When confronted with Nikola Jokic at his most overwhelming, longtime habitués of pro hoops have exhibited a tendency to assume inevitability. The numbers stand out first, and then the highlights, and finally the recognition that the National Basketball Association has once again found itself hosting his peculiar genius. That said, the Nuggets’ 125-113 victory over the Timberwolves in Game Five of their first-round series was not merely about the three-time Most Valuable Player awardee reminding all and sundry who he is. It was about survival. It was about the blue, yellow, and red; hampered by injury, fatigue, and the growing suspicion that their championship window is no longer open, they managed to summon enough collective force to postpone the reckoning for at least another match.
Head coach David Adelman called for “all hands on deck” before tipoff, and the Nuggets responded accordingly; never mind that starter Aaron Gordon was unavailable due to a calf injury. To be sure, the Timberwolves were likewise diminished, missing vital cogs Anthony Edwards and Donte DiVincenzo. In circumstances like these, playoff battles cease to approximate the polished look of April marketing campaigns. They become rawer, stranger, and more dependent on role players who are not expected to matter deeply, or at all. Spencer Jones delivered a playoff career-high 20 points. Christian Braun supplied force and provided connective tissue. Jamal Murray, alternating between creator and scavenger, wound up being liberated by the added ballhandling support around him. And through it all stood Jokic, assembling yet another triple-double with the detached calm of a nine-to-five office worker doing routine paperwork.
Certainly, Jokic’s stat line of 27, 12, and 16 was historic; he joined Oscar Robertson in exclusive postseason territory, erecting another mile marker in a career increasingly measured against basketball mythology. It was about time. Through Games Two to Four, the Timberwolves had dragged him into uncomfortable terrain; defensive standout Rudy Gobert was particularly effective against him, turning his every catch into arduous labor and every pivot into physical negotiation. He shot poorly, not to mention appeared impatient, and, for extended periods, mortal. And against that backdrop, Game Five became his counterpoint.
Perhaps this is why the Nuggets remain dangerous even while still trailing in the series. They already own a singular relationship with elimination games, having twice climbed out of 1-3 deficits in recent memory. And, needless to say, those pieces of history linger in every possession, even if the roster and circumstances have evolved.
Make no mistake. The Timberwolves still have control, and deservedly so in light of stifling coverage that has spent much of the series injecting uncertainty into the Nuggets’ hitherto fluid offense. As they know only too well, however, closeout contests carry their own psychology. What seemed inevitable at 3-1 can become fragile at 3-2, especially when the competition has Jokic at the helm and can tap institutional memory to plod on against the odds.
For the Nuggets, then, the series lies in the gap between exhaustion and belief. The Timberwolves remain younger, longer, and more agile. In contrast, they stay tethered to the one advantage that matters most in the crunch: certainty in who they trust when the season is on the line. Jokic may not dominate every game in conventional fashion, and they may no longer possess the invulnerability they once projected. Even so, as long as he remains capable of orchestrating the proceedings like no other, the door stays open, and wide enough for them to walk through.
Anthony L. Cuaycong has been writing Courtside since BusinessWorld introduced a Sports section in 1994. He is a consultant on strategic planning, operations and human resources management, corporate communications,
and business development.
