I feel like I had three different versions of this article completed in my head over the course of the game, and all of them fizzled out by the end just because of the whole *waves hand* Wemby thing. You know, that thing where the guy who’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen on a basketball court simply takes over, blots out the sun, and then the game ends? It’s really disruptive to the narrative my brain automatically builds while watching.
In one version, I’m expounding on a pretty electric first quarter.
The Spurs were pushing the pace and executing in basically every facet of the game. I’m talking about how getting De’Aaron Fox back in the lineup seemed to have brought a sense of order and control to the unbridled energy explosion that defined the early efforts of this team. Everyone was in their lane and doing their job. They didn’t need Wemby to do everything because the whole team was flowing in transition, attacking the rim, and moving the ball. That first quarter had me as excited about the Spurs as I’ve been in almost a decade. That was a vision of the best this team could look.
Another version of this recap is spent staring in to the abyss of that 2nd quarter. The one where all the good from the first melted away like so much cotton candy in the hands of a lovable raccoon. What was that? For one, they couldn’t hold onto the ball to save their lives. Then they took their foot off the gas defensively, and it felt like the Bulls could get any look they wanted from anywhere on the floor. They also stopped moving the ball and reverted back to the worst version of the offense, which is basically “throw it to Vic and see.” And what we saw was that nothing was falling. Honestly, it was like going to someone’s beautiful house, remarking on how tidy it was, leaving, and then coming back a minute later and realizing they’d just stuffed all their crap into various closets and pantries that had now exploded all over the floor.
The third version exists in a weird netherworld where it’s bad, but there’s enough of a glimmer to provide hope. Or maybe it’s good, but there’s enough bad stuff to make you consider despair. Honestly, the third one is where it’s hard to pin down precise feelings about this game because it’s, you know, a netherworld. A limbo between two realities. A place where the positive and the negative coexist together and team up to make sure whatever you say sounds wrong as soon as you’ve said it.
The Spurs were bad in the second half. They were better, but they were bad. They still couldn’t stop turning the ball over. They still couldn’t quite find that same rhythm from the first quarter. They still couldn’t lock in defensively enough to stymie a shorthanded Bulls squad that was more than happy to exploit easy looks and open shots. Yet they endured. They weren’t good, but their effort was. They hustled, they pushed, they fought, and they stayed in it. Like a dogged, overmatched hero in a sci-fi movie being chased by a monster, they fumbled around in the dark just long enough to find the button that unleashed the bigger monster. With about seven minutes left in the game, they finally let the monster out.
It was a methodical takeover. Wemby didn’t do anything exceptionally alien, and he didn’t physically punish the Bulls the way we’ve seen him do at times. He stayed within himself and just calmly executed everything that he tried. He grabbed rebounds like you’d grab an orange at the grocery store. He brought the ball up the court like there was no one else out there with him. He spun and flung shots at the rim as casually as if he were just messing around in a driveway. The threes he hit? I mean, those weren’t very good shots. We know that, right? Like, at the end of the day, the Bulls and everyone else on the planet are probably content with the idea that the best offense the Spurs could muster in those moments was a 7’5” guy dribbling out the clock and firing from long distance.
Didn’t matter. Victor was feeling it in the way that great players do. He was in rhythm and played accordingly. If everything is going to go in, it makes sense to play that way. Every fiber of my being wants to shout out something like, “you can’t just count on Victor being great all the time,” but here’s the thing… maybe you can? Maybe this whole Spurs team is designed around the concept of Victor Wembanyama being the best player on the planet. What if the job of this team is to put him in positions to be great and then let him simply go out there and do that?
He is that great, and the Spurs are counting on it. That’s kind of what it comes back to. No one ever really wins in this league without their best players being the best player. Bailing them out when the team doesn’t have it. Filling in the gaps. Pushing them over the top.
Maybe you’re only as good as your worst player, but you’re only as great as your best one.
Takeaways:
- So, like, I understand the irony of complaining that the worst version of the Spurs offense is “throw it to Vic and see” while at the same time concluding that, like, you know, the Spurs sometimes just need to let Vic be great and that will solve all their problems. I get it. Ok? I understand the contradiction and, frankly, I don’t care. I’m just calling it like I see it. The worst version of the Spurs offense is when they just stop what they’re doing and let one person, be it Wemby or Fox or Castle or whomever, try to just do stuff. I hate watching that, and its success rate is not the best. The problem with being rational and smart about things like this is that it rarely takes into account things like “magic” and “vibes.” Sometimes things are just special and we should appreciate them as such. The second quarter was bad. The fourth quarter was magic. They were similar ingredients with different results. I don’t know what to tell you. You’re welcome to stand over someone’s shoulder and watch them do math if this concept upsets you.
- Luke Kornet simply must stay healthy. He simply must! He’s too important to my overall well-being, and I think it should be designated a crime and that everyone in the league should have to pay a fine any time he has to sit out. I’m not irrational, you are. He’s just everything I want. I could spend all day watching him do those little pick-and-roll alley-oops where he quickly pops toward the basket, jumps up in a statue pose, and glides along to the hoop before dropping it in. It’s a perfect basketball snack. It delights me every time. My guy was literally perfect last night. Protect Luke at all costs.
- I had a realization during the game that I really love the depth of this team. Basically every combination of players, whenever they’re on the floor, is something I’m interested in seeing. I love our starting lineup, but then Kornet will come in and I’m like, “hell yeah.” Then Julian Champagnie and Keldon Johnson will check in and I’m like, “oh, hell yeah.” I always want to see what Sochan is going to do. I’m fascinated by Lindy Waters’s whole deal. I’m always curious to see a few minutes of Carter Bryant. Kelly Olynyk? Sure, bud, come on down. My point is, this is a very fun team. We’ve got a good one on our hands. I’ll make an effort toy stop complaining so much.
WWL Post Game Press Conference
– It’s cool when your analysis involves some version of the phrase “I don’t care.” I heard audiences really love to be told that you don’t care about their feedback.
– I’m sensing a healthy dose of, like, I dunno, raw sarcasm in here. Aren’t you supposed to be a reporter?
– That was definitely how this bit started back in the day, but I think I’ve evolved into something more like your conscience. Or maybe just, like, a general ombudsman.
– Got it. So you, what, just address audience complaints?
– I think you use me as a cudgel against any perceived criticism you think you might get when people finally read what you write. You’re anticipating what they’re going to be mad about and trying to take the bite out of it by having me say it. Then you get to do a little wry aside about it, and they feel bad for even thinking to complain in the first place.
– Yeah, well, I think any time you can take the wind out of the sails of your haters, you’re doing something right.
– What haters, though? People, largely, really like this stuff. You’re not rolling in here every couple of games and doing a Skip Bayless impression. If anything, your opinions are too down the middle. You’re not saying anything new, anything exciting, anything fresh. You’re not getting people riled up enough to even feel anything in the first place, much less be mad about it. The thesis of your piece today was that Victor Wembanyama is great. Congrats. Find a new slant, my dude.
– This bit I’ve conceived to prevent me from getting my feelings hurt has started to sort of hurt my feelings.
– Same ingredients, different results.
