The Wolves Didn’t Come This Far to Only Come This Far
You can count the truly great Timberwolves seasons on one hand and still have fingers left to point at old scars. 2004’s Big Three run. The Ant-KAT breakthrough that torched Phoenix and toppled Denver.
Last spring’s sequel where a disjointed regular season suddenly turned into a sledgehammer April and May. That’s basically it. Which is why 2025–26 feels different. Not “cute upstart different.” Not “win-a-series-and-we’re-happy different.” This is pressure-cooker, banner-or-bust, we’re-on-the-perch-now-jump different.
Two straight Western Conference Finals gets you a parade of compliments. The third year is when you either break the ceiling or get labeled “that fun team from the mid-2020s.” The Wolves didn’t crawl out of two decades of purgatory to become a historical footnote. It’s time to finish the trilogy.
Anthony Edwards, Franchise North Star
Ant’s annual evolution should be taught in AP Bio.
Year 1–2: nuclear athlete who could bully his way to 25.
Year 3–4: the defense arrived, the reads sharpened, and the shot diet got smarter.
Last year: he put in the lab hours, led the league in threes made, and looked like the best player in multiple playoff games… while still being 23.
Now comes the cruelest tier: the best-player-every-night tier. That’s where Jokic lives. That’s where SGA dipped last spring. It’s not just 31-7-6 — it’s the daily ruthlessness. No random 6-for-18 Tuesdays, no drifting for a quarter while the opponent steals the rope. If the mid-range package he teased all summer is real (and the 3% body fat legend is more than gym-rat folklore), he’s an MVP dark horse and the tip of a Finals spear. Every champion has that guy. The Wolves have theirs.
Julius Randle, From Awkward Fit to Perfect Co-Star
Talk about walking into a Minnesota snowstorm in a T-shirt. Randle arrived as the human face of the KAT trade—beloved franchise pillar out, ball-dominant All-NBA forward in—and the PR barometer immediately spun to “blizzard.” Early on, the fit looked clunky. He pounded the air out of a few possessions, stared down double-teams like they’d personally offended him, and carried the extra baggage of contract talk and the “You’re Not Karl” chorus from a fan base still in mourning. Rough sledding is putting it kindly.
Then something clicked. Instead of trying to be a one-man bulldozer, Randle started operating like a 250-pound hub.. The ball stoppages turned into ball starts. On a bunch of playoff nights, yes, playoff nights, Randle was Minnesota’s most important player, outshining even the Ant supernova by bending defenses, living at the line, and dictating tempo without hijacking it. He went from “wrong guy, wrong time” to “perfect second banana,” the big who makes your best player’s life easier.
That’s the blueprint now. If Randle keeps the quick decisions, defends his matchup with grown-man pride, and picks his bully-ball spots instead of living in them, the Wolves have a championship-caliber co-pilot. The chemistry with Ant is real, and and the Twin Cities suddenly feels like a place where Julius can write the ring chapter. Last year was the transformation. This year has to be the confirmation.
Rudy Gobert, The Identity
Basketball’s most polarizing seven-footer is back to do what he does better than just about anyone on Earth: erase mistakes and make a trip to the paint feel like going through airport security. Say what you want about the trade, but Gobert changed the Wolves’ identity overnight with his size, length, top-shelf defense, and a nightly invitation for opponents to take 18-foot prayers. Heading into Year 4 in Minnesota, the job description hasn’t changed: anchor everything, talk everyone through coverages, and let Ant and Jaden fly knowing there’s a French safety net behind them.
Yes, there are warts. You don’t throw him the ball 18 feet out and ask him to invent jazz. But when Finch parks Rudy in his sweet spots, deep seals, rim rumbles, vertical spacings, he flips from “offensive limitation” to “efficient cheat code.” Remember Game 5 in L.A. last spring, when he bullied the Lakers’ bigs and led all scorers? That’s the template: screen like a snowplow, dive like a hammer, finish everything with two hands, and live at the line enough to make teams pay for hugging shooters.
The swing stat is health, specifically, the back. When Rudy’s upright and moving, the Wolves have a puncher’s chance against anyone, anywhere. When he’s stiff or a step late, the margin shrinks in a hurry. Keep him right, keep the role simple, and the math tilts your way: elite defense plus just-enough offense. If Minnesota gets “Lakers Game 5 Rudy” from April to June, you can start planning parade routes down First Avenue.
Jaden McDaniels, The Swing Vote
We already know: top-tier wing defender, arms for days, mean-mug connoisseur. When he’s on the floor with Rudy and Ant, the geometry changes. Wings stop testing middle, drivers pull up early, and your favorite scorer starts calling for a screen like it’s DoorDash. He’s already one of the best point-of-attack + help hybrids in basketball: rear-view contests, chest-up without fouling (most nights), late-clock erasures on jumpers that looked open a beat ago. That length next to Gobert means Minnesota can live at the rim defensively without sending the fire department every possession.
The swing factor is the other end. Every few weeks Jaden turns into the version you brag about to your non-Wolves friends: corner threes drop, he rips baseline like a paper cut, and he finishes through arms like they’re pool noodles. Then there are the vanish nights. Some of that’s usage and design. Finch has to put him in position to attack instead of asking him to stand in the corner and manifest, and some of it’s Jaden deciding it’s a “hunt the mismatch” evening, not a “ghost in the corner” one.
Bottom line: the floor is nasty, snarling, lanky lockdown guy (which is already worth his contract). The ceiling, the one that nudges this team from “contender” to “favorite”, is the nights he adds 14 efficient points, three corner makes, two cuts, and zero “why, man?” fouls to all that defense. When Jaden’s cooking, the Wolves feel unsolvable.
Mike Conley Jr., The Adult in the Room
Minnesota’s designated adult, the human weighted blanket for fourth quarters. We all feel it. There are only so many tours left on the odometer. Two straight springs ended a couple wins shy of the Finals, and nobody in the room understands that clock louder than Conley. Last season wasn’t peak “Utah Mike” or even “Memphis Mike”; the burst dipped, the minutes needed curating, and the back-to-back plan had more guardrails than a Mario Kart track. And yet every time he checked in, the chaos stopped. The offense organized. Ant got the ball where he wanted it, Rudy got fed on time, and the turnover gremlins got evicted. You could feel the temperature drop: dribble handoff into a pocket pass, angle screen, swing-swing three. Simple, adult basketball.
This year is about precision over volume. Manage the miles, keep him fresh for the 8:12 p.m. moments in May. He doesn’t need to be 18-and-8; he needs to be right when it matters and present enough from October to April to teach the kids where the buttons are. Give him a sensible minutes plan, a second-unit off-ramp when he sits, and one more crack at the stage he’s earned. If there’s basketball karma, it’s cashing the “Get Mike a ring” ticket.
Two Words: Naz. Reid.
Undrafted to Sixth Man to full-blown cult icon, Naz is the rare bench guy who gets his own towels, chants, and at least a few impulsive tattoos across the Upper Midwest. The twist is why it hits so hard: on most rosters, Nazs is a no-brainer starter. On this one, he’s spent years wedged behind All-Star bigs (first KAT/Rudy, now Julius/Rudy) blocked by team chemistry and pecking order more than talent. A lot of players in that spot peek over the fence. Naz doubled down on Minnesota, stayed with Ant and Jaden, and said “give me the smoke” here. Then Tim Connelly backed it up with five years and $125 million as proof the franchise sees what the fanbase has screamed: this guy matters.
It’s also been a heavy summer. The life-changing contract landed, and then the gut-punch loss of his sister had grief and gratitude sharing the same calendar. If you’ve watched Naz the past two years, you can already picture the response: show up, lean on teammates, let the game be the outlet. The basketball case remains simple and loud: instant offense, lineup elasticity, a second unit that actually scares people. But the reason he’s become the beating heart of the building is bigger. He chose Minnesota when it would’ve been easier to go somewhere he’d start; he carried the love right back when it would’ve been easier to leave. That’s why the towels fly. That’s why the chants hit different. And that’s why, on a team with title expectations, Naz isn’t just a luxury. He’s the hinge.
Donte DiVincenzo, The Chaos Valve
Donte DiVincenzo: the “sweetener” who showed up with a blowtorch. When the KAT-for-Julius swap dropped in the middle of the night, many in Wolves Nation felt that DDV would be the reason that Minnesota would be declared the “winner” of the deal. We all remembered Dallas in 2024 and how the offense seized up in fourth quarters. A certified flamethrower sounded like oxygen. Year 1 was a mixtape: some nights he looked like he’d swallowed the Splash Brothers’ playbook; others he drifted like a cameo. But once the calendar flipped to March/April, the rhythm locked in: catch-and-shoot confidence, relocation threes, the sneaky back-cut when teams top-locked him. That late surge was a not-so-subtle reminder: on a team that can defend anybody, one 6-for-10 from deep outing changes an entire series.
The twist this season is responsibility. With no true vet behind Mike Conley, Donte’s the break-glass ballhandler when Minnesota Mike sits. We’ve seen the messy version (hello, OKC traps), but with a full summer and camp to rep the reads, the job description is clear: keep the offense on the rails, punish help with quick-trigger threes, and be the chaos merchant in second units. He doesn’t need to be Chris Paul; he needs to be Donte—screen-reject into a pull-up, 30-foot heat check when the arena gets sleepy, one surprise take-charge on a star driving left. On a roster built to win 94–90 rock fights, he’s the volatility lever. If the Wolves finally crack the Finals, don’t be shocked if there’s a night in May where everyone’s writing the same sentence: DiVincenzo swung it.
Terrence Shannon Jr., The NAW Successor
NAW earned every shred of love he got here. Now TSJ inherits the slot: bigger minutes, real defensive chores, and the green light when he beats a bent defense. He’s older than your typical second-year guy, which is a feature, not a bug, on a contender. You saw it in the February OKC comeback and in the Western Finals cameo: the moment doesn’t scare him. If he delivers 18 sturdy minutes most nights, the Wolves add a downhill gear they sometimes lacked.
Rob Dillingham, The Wild Swing
Minnesota traded up to crown him heir apparent to Mike Conley. The tools are obvious: shake, burst, vision, touch. The reality of Year 1 was predictably bumpy. This year the coaching staff is asking him to be reliable. Steer second units. Survive defensively through strength and guile. There will be jitter nights; the assignment is to make the good nights frequent enough that Finch doesn’t need to velcro Donte to the wheel every second Conley sits. If Rob pops, this team’s ceiling changes zip codes.
Jaylen Clark, Quiet Killer
Last year started with towel-waving. Then the defense popped, the minutes grew, and suddenly there were lineups (Clark + McDaniels + Ant + Rudy) that felt like a prison sentence for opposing guards. If he hits 36% on corner threes, he’s a rotation lock who lets Finch toggle into five-alarm perimeter pressure without sacrificing sanity on offense.
Joan Beringer, The April Insurance Policy
Call him “Baby Gobert” if you want, but you’ll be underselling the touch. The reads are raw; the instincts around the rim are not. Behind Rudy, Julius, and Naz, the minutes will be selective, and that’s fine. The model here is “Lively II in Dallas two springs ago”: two playoff games swing because the rookie gives you 10 honest minutes, 3 contests at the rim, and 2 putbacks when your bigs are gassed or whistled.
What Has to Change from 2024-25
- No more first-half coasting. Last year’s disjointed start made sense post-trade; this year it doesn’t. Bank wins. Push for the 1-seed.
- Offensive lulls must shrink. You can’t live in the mud for four straight minutes against OKC or Denver. TSJ’s rim pressure, Donte’s movement threes, and a more cohesive first-unit are the antidotes.
- Health. It’s boring until it isn’t. Keep Rudy right. Build a responsible schedule for Conley. Give Ant the “you don’t have to be Superman in December” memo.
The Bar (And Why It’s Fair)
Two years ago, the mission was “win a series.”
Last year, the mission became “prove it wasn’t a fluke.”
This year, the mission is “take the next step.”
Is the West loaded? Absolutely. Are there eight landmines in the first round? You bet. But the Wolves built for this: elite defense, a top-five guy ascending, a co-star who finally fits, a cult-god sixth man, switchable wings, and a front office/ownership group that (imagine typing this five years ago) looks competent and aligned.
There’s a version of this season where Minnesota wins 60, grabs the 1-seed tiebreaker, and finally gets to carry home court into a West Final. There’s also a version where the non-Conley minutes wobble, the offense hiccups, and they wind up fighting uphill from the 5–6 line again. The difference lives in October–January habits and the development curve for Dillingham/Shannon/Clark.
But the window is open, and it’s not a drafty crack — it’s a wide-angle view of June.
Final Word
No more arriving. It’s time.
Watch Timberwolves games with FanDuel Sports Network free for 30 days
- First 5,000 using the code SBNFALL30 get a free month
- Never miss a Timberwolves game. Stream all season long with FanDuel Sports Network
We’ll be here all season at Canis Hoopus — previews, recaps, overreactions, underreactions, and everything in between. And if you somehow don’t have access to Wolves broadcasts yet, FanDuel Sports Network North still has that 30-day free trial we’ve been pointing to. Use it, sample everything for a month, and then lock in so you don’t miss the climb.
82 steps. One mission.
Let’s go.
