Minnesota Timberwolves vs. Golden State Warriors
Date: January 24th, 2026
Time: 4:30 PM CST
Location: Target Center
Television Coverage: ABC
Radio Coverage: Wolves App, iHeart Radio
It’s one thing to break your New Year’s resolution when the calendar creeps into late January. That’s normal. That’s human. That’s “I’ll start dieting again Monday” culture. It’s another thing to look that resolution dead in the eyes, and decide to binge eat your way through the Pizza Hut buffet like breadsticks are going
out of style.
That’s where the Minnesota Timberwolves are right now.
Because whatever that early-January version of the Wolves was, the one that came out of the Nets/Hawks embarrassment like a team that finally got tired of hearing its own excuses, it has vanished. Those Wolves played like they had a shared password to the same brain: intensity, ball pressure, rotating on a string, moving the ball, making the extra pass, making the extra effort, turning games into suffocation chambers. They were stacking wins and building actual credibility. It felt like a pivot point.
And then the last week happened.
Four straight losses. It has been a self-inflicted wound festival, the kind where you watch the tape afterward and it’s just a highlight reel of bad decisions, like you’re watching a horror movie and the teenager is walking into the basement again.
You can almost memory-hole Houston and San Antonio if you’re feeling generous. Houston was without Ant, San Antonio was without Rudy, and those are the exact two players who give the Wolves their identity on both ends. Missing your best offensive player and then your best defensive player in back-to-back games against elite West competition is a legitimate obstacle. Fine. The problem is those games were still there. Minnesota could’ve stolen the Houston one if they had simply treated the free throw line like something that matters in professional basketball. And the Spurs game became a case study in “how do you give up 48 points in a quarter and still convince yourself you’re a serious team?”
But the real slide started when the injuries stopped being the headline and the effort became the story.
Utah was the line in the sand game, the “get right, handle business, be a pro” game, and Minnesota treated it like a casual open run. Double-digit lead, rested legs, opponent on a back-to-back… and then they got outscored by 17 in the fourth and folded like they had somewhere better to be. You want to know how teams end up in the play-in even though they have top-four talent? It’s nights like that. You want to know how fans start making April bracket scenarios with dread instead of excitement? It’s nights like that.
Then came Chicago at Target Center, and they somehow topped Utah in the most Wolves-possible way: by blowing multiple double-digit leads, turning the intensity switch on and off like a teenager flicking the light in the hallway just to be annoying, and losing the game in the exact moments that separate grown-up teams from teams that are still trying to figure out who they are.
They had it. They had it. That corner three by Jaden to go up four in the final minutes is the kind of shot that’s supposed to be the turning point. That’s the moment you’re supposed to feel the opponent’s shoulders slump. And then… a weak closeout gifts Kobe White a three to cut it to one. In that situation, you absolutely cannot allow the three. If they score a two, you’re still up two and you can live with it. A three changes the entire math problem. And Minnesota just… let it happen.
Then the turnover came. Then the interior breakdown. Then Ant went into hero mode, clanging threes while the rest of the offense stood around watching. I don’t even want to bury him for it because he’s bailed them out so many times this season it’s basically become a personality trait. But this wasn’t one of those nights where the “Ant saves everyone” script made sense. There were multiple instances where ball movement, actual basketball, could’ve gotten them a better look and a better chance to win.
So now the Wolves are where they swore they wouldn’t be: entrenched in the play-in neighborhood, staring at the West standings like they’re watching their phone battery hit 3% with no charger in sight. And the worst part is that a week ago, we were talking about the two seed chase like it was a real thing. Not a fantasy. A real thing.
Now they get a two-game home stand against Golden State, a team they’re suddenly jockeying with, a team that’s wobbling a bit itself, especially with Jimmy Butler’s injury hanging over everything. But here’s the thing about the Warriors: even in their messy eras, they still have Steph Curry and Steve Kerr. They still have a built-in competence level that punishes teams who show up half-awake. And if Minnesota brings the same sleepy, lazy, “we’ll turn it on later” energy we’ve seen the last two games, Golden State will absolutely take their lunch money.
This is not optional anymore. They cannot let the losing streak hit five. Not with the West this tight. Not with April consequences looming.
So yeah, maybe a familiar rival, a team with postseason history, a team that tends to pull emotion and feistiness out of Minnesota… maybe that’s the kick in the ass they need.
Keys to the Game
1. Play defense. No, really — play defense.
Not “run back and point at someone.” Not “funnel everything into Rudy and hope he cleans it up.” Not “let’s gamble for steals because rotating is hard.” Actual defense. Ball pressure. Staying attached. Getting through screens like they’re being paid to do it (news flash: they are). The Wolves have become this bizarre team where the defense sometimes looks like a top-two unit and sometimes looks like a preseason scrimmage where everyone’s trying not to get sweaty. That can’t happen against Steph Curry, because Curry doesn’t need you to make five mistakes. He only needs one. And if the Wolves are going to win this, it has to start with their wings deciding that resistance isn’t optional. Rudy can anchor the back line, but he cannot be a security blanket for lazy perimeter effort. If you’re getting beat off the dribble and then shrugging because “Rudy’s there,” you’re not playing defense. You’re outsourcing it.
2. Make Steph uncomfortable.
Every team says “we have to locate Steph” like it’s a cute little checklist item, but it’s not a checklist item. It’s a lifestyle. It’s 48 minutes of paranoia. It’s knowing where he is in transition, knowing where he is when the ball swings, knowing that he’ll relocate after he gives it up, knowing that the shot can come from anywhere if you relax for a second. With Butler out, the Warriors’ margin for error shrinks. If the Wolves can keep Steph from going full nuclear, then suddenly Golden State is asking a lot from their secondary guys. But that only matters if Minnesota also stops gifting layups and back cuts like they’re handing out party favors. You can’t be locked in on Curry and asleep everywhere else.
3. Use the size advantage.
This is the simplest advantage in the world: Minnesota can put Rudy, Naz, and Julius on the floor and still have Beringer waiting in the wings like a change-up pitch. Golden State, especially without Butler, is not built to deal with that kind of bulk for 48 minutes. So make them deal with it. Swarm the glass. Own the paint. Turn missed shots into second chances and turn defensive rebounds into control. If Minnesota gets punked on the boards in this matchup, that’s not “bad luck,” that’s malpractice. The Wolves have to impose themselves physically and make Golden State feel it over time, not with dirty stuff, not with nonsense, just with relentless possession-winning basketball. The Warriors want flow. They want pace. They want you scrambling. Rebounding and interior scoring are how you put sand in those gears.
4. Run a real offense — not the “my turn, your turn” show.
This is the big one because it’s the one that’s been quietly killing them. When the Wolves are good, they move the ball and the defense has to react. When they’re bad, it turns into Ant dribbling into a contested step-back while everyone watches, and Julius turning into a black hole on the left block where the ball goes in and sometimes never comes out. They’re both talented enough to score that way in bursts, but building an offense around it is how you end up with those dead fourth quarters where every shot feels hard, every miss feels heavier, and then your defense starts sulking. Ant and Julius need to get theirs within the flow: downhill pressure, quick decisions, kick-outs, cutting, the extra pass. Make Golden State guard multiple actions. Make them rotate. Make them communicate. Because if Minnesota’s offense turns into iso sludge again, the Warriors will happily defend it, run off your misses, and suddenly you’re in that familiar spot where you’re trying to “flip the switch” with five minutes left.
5. Ant has to win the headline matchup — but he has to do it the right way.
We all know the resume gap between Curry and Ant historically. Curry’s a living artifact of the modern NBA. But time comes for everyone, and Ant is barreling toward his prime like he’s late for a flight. This is one of those statement spots where Edwards can remind everyone: “Yeah, that era isn’t over yet, but mine is here.” If Ant outplays Steph, Minnesota probably wins. It’s not complicated. But “outplays Steph” can’t mean “takes 12 threes because he’s feeling it.” It has to be smart aggression: attacking the rim, bending the defense, making the right pass when the trap comes, picking his moments from deep instead of settling. If Ant plays connected basketball, scoring and creating, it pulls everyone else into the game. And when everyone else is engaged offensively, they tend to actually defend, too. That’s the whole chain reaction Minnesota has been missing lately.
The Finish
There’s no more room for the Wolves to treat games like optional experiences. They’ve given away too much ground, and the West is too unforgiving to let you casually bleed losses and then “make it up later.” Later becomes April, and April becomes “why are we the seven seed again?” and suddenly you’re sweating a play-in game because you couldn’t close out Utah on a Tuesday or defend a three against Chicago on your home floor.
This Warriors mini-series is exactly the kind of moment that can either snap a team back into seriousness or push them deeper into the fog. Golden State is wounded, but they’re still dangerous. They still have the structure and the championship DNA that punishes teams who play cute. If Minnesota shows up with that tired, complacent energy again, the losing streak is going to hit five. At that point, you’re not “slumping,” you’re spiraling.
So this has to be it. This has to be the point where they stop bleeding themselves out. Defend. Rebound. Move the ball. Play with purpose. The Wolves don’t need a miracle. They need professionalism. They need urgency. They need the version of themselves that showed up in early January, the one that looked like it actually cared about what it could become.
Because the Wolves are still good enough to climb. They’re still talented enough to scare anybody. But talent without effort is just a fancy way to lose games you should win.
And if they can’t figure that out at home, against a banged-up Warriors team, with their season starting to wobble? Then we’re going to have to start having the conversation nobody wants to have, not about the two seed, not about a deep run… but about whether this team is sleepwalking its way into the play-in on purpose.
