It was one of those nights that can only be described as one of those nights. The wrongs flood through the evening like a tidal wave and the rights are mere fleeting glimmers that pass by in an instant. One of those nights where the free-flowing beauty of liquid basketball feels like it couldn’t be further away for one team and barely ever leaves the grasp of the other. A night where the victims are deafened by a cacophony of errors and the victors traipse along to the sounds of smooth jazz without ever missing a beat. One of those nights.
The game ends 117-94. Games against the Philadelphia 76ers feel fraught, and maybe no more so than right now. They’re loaded with talent, including Joel Embiid and his deep pouch of scoring blades and razors, and they’re percolating on a near-nightly basis. Minnesota had to find the same level of intensity, shot-making and venomous defense possessed them in their three-game California win streak if they were to compete — and then some.
None of those traits turned up for long enough, however. After a first quarter that saw the Wolves hold a minor lead and the early beginnings of the second period that signaled they could build on it, they crumbled under the weight of Embiid’s mastery and Philly’s ability to stretch the floor around their gigantic axis. A 15-point unanswered run from the Sixers in the closing minutes of the first half dug Minnesota’s grave and Philadelphia spent the rest of the night calmly heaping the dirt over their opponent’s lifeless corpse.
It was just one of those nights.
Mike Conley: 2/10
Ghostly. You knew he was there, his apparitional form floating around the court, but you could never tangibly feel him. He makes a single field goal from six attempts, fails to help power up Minnesota’s broken offense with any of the sweet playmaking we’ve seen of late, and there was nothing on the other side of the ball to redeem his night.
He wasn’t alone in the fiery pits of Hades, either, as the majority of his team were floundering there for the majority of the evening.
Finished with 6 points (41% TS), 3 assists and 2 steals in 24 minutes — -33.8 net rating.
Anthony Edwards: 9/10
It’s hard to hold up the deadweight of a team who hasn’t turned up. It’s heavy and burdensome and it seems fucking exhausting. From the first minute until he was mercifully rested in the fourth, he was the lone warrior spraying bullets from the frontline. While the rest of his squad huddled in cowardice deep in the trenches, he was fighting fury without a lick of armor.
When he wasn’t knocking down treys in a variety of ways, he was blowing by closeouts and finishing at the rim with gnarling efficiency. He even gave Jalen McDaniels a fucking hellfire bath at the rim in front of his little brother. And, while the rest of his team seemed content to stand and watch the bombs drop on them, Edwards was pretty consistently sitting down and attempting to make a difference defensively.
His greatness will wash away in the tide of the result, but he played the part of a true leader in this one. A force who showed up even when the rain was pouring.
Finished with 32 points (62.1% TS) and 7 rebounds in 34 minutes — -22.1 net rating.
Jaden McDaniels: 3/10
His brother got baptized in the holy waters of Lord Ant, but it was Jaden who walked away with the stench of sin. He’s the world’s best fucking defender, so even on an off-night he still had a smattering of defensive wonder-plays, but he was largely beaten by the eccentric Tyrese Maxey. Throw in a big fat fucking stinker offensively and you have a night to forget for Minnesota’s nickname-less phenom.
Finished with 3 points (25% TS), 3 rebounds and 3 blocks in 34 minutes — -33.1 net rating.
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