Michael Malone didn’t just shorten his bench. He strangled it.
Christian Braun played a valiant 20 minutes in that scarring, jarring Game 7, much of it spent badgering the heck outta Anthony Edwards. After that, though, the alms dwindled. Justin Holiday got nine minutes for the Nuggets; Reggie Jackson, five.
The Timberwolves, meanwhile, received 22 minutes and 11 points from Naz Reid, a stretch-4-type post who gave Aaron Gordon and Nikola Jokic more real estate to defend. Nickeil Alexander-Walker played 17 minutes.
Hindsight makes geniuses of us all, granted. But while Jokic huffed and Gordon puffed Sunday, Peyton Watson became more noticeable — by his absence. As Minnesota chipped away at a 20-point Nuggs lead, one of the best defenders on the roster was nowhere to be found.
Now in a do-or-die, win-or-else Game 7, you could understand Malone’s reluctance to trust his second-year wing in a pinch. P-Swat was 0-for-7 from the floor in this series going into Sunday night. The Nuggets lined up the chess pieces as if they could afford only one true defense-first option down the stretch — and again, Braun brought plenty of juice.
Malone said before Game 5 that this was about matchups, and that Minnesota’s defense demands shooters at every spot. That’s not in P-Swat’s arsenal right now, and Holiday brought flashes of brilliance, on the road, when Denver needed it most.
Mind you, Watson also posted a plus-15.9 net rating over 23 minutes against the Wolves in a seeding showdown at Ball Arena last month, blocking six shots and grabbing four boards.
Because as the eulogies are read and ballads sung and postmortems written about where a repeat run at an NBA title went sadly off the rails, P-Swat feels like something of a nexus point. Not just for what happened. But for where the Nuggets go from here. And how.
Nuggets general manager Calvin Booth raised eyebrows this past October when he told The Ringer’s Kevin O’Connor that he “want(s) dudes that we try to develop, and it’s sustainable. If it costs us the chance to win a championship (in 2024), so be it. It’s worth the investment. It’s more about winning three out of six, three out of seven, four out of eight than it is about trying to go back-to-back.”
Booth walked back those comments (among others) later, but it sure did very neatly explain an off-season of attrition — no more Bruce Brown or Jeff Green, thanks CBA — that came on the heels of the first title in franchise history. If ’22-23 was the masterpiece, then ’23-24 would be the experiment. Namely, can we replace Brown and Green with kids and still reach the NBA Finals?
Well, no. Heck, no. Not this year, at any rate.
Booth’s stated masterplan was also curious given that Malone, a stickler for eternal verities such as defense and selflessness, suffers neither fools nor rookies gladly. If Malone doesn’t trust you, you don’t play. Period. The Minnesota series, which started with the Nuggets dropping Games 1 and 2 at home, threw development out a 35-story window.
I’m not suggesting Malone and Booth aren’t on the same page here, although it’s fair to wonder. However, I would humbly advise the powers that be to pick a lane and stick with it going forward. For the window’s sake. For Joker’s sake.
The MVP needs help. Now. Jokic, owner of the greatest hands in modern NBA annals, snatched 15 boards in the first half. He finished with 19. Following one misfire in the third quarter, what looked like four Minnesota bodies went up for the carom while No. 15 was stranded at the top of the arc. The Joker seemed positively crestfallen.
Since April 1 through Game 7, the Big Honey logged 732 minutes in 19 games, or 38.5 per game. From April 1 through the end of the Suns series last spring, he’d played 467 minutes in 13 appearances (35.9 per tilt).
The Nuggs danced with history last week. And landed on the wrong side of it, face-first. Malone’s had better days. He’ll have better ones in the future. But Game 7’s epic collapse felt an awful lot like coaching not to lose. Which, more often than not, gets you beat on this stage.
The Wolves, meanwhile, were built by Tim Connelly to dethrone the dynasty he’d started in Denver. See KAT? See Ant, waving and mugging for the cameras? They’re the bar now.
It’s on Booth and Malone to volley Connelly’s serve. Together. Because the Joker has a ton of MVP seasons left in him. But only so many springs of what-ifs. And only so many summers of doubt.
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