Is the Grizzlies LOSS on Mitch!?

SAN ANTONIO — The San Antonio Spurs walked off the floor after another loss that felt avoidable — the kind that stings not just because of the final score, but because of how many small decisions and missed opportunities piled up in the closing minute.

This time, it was a 106–105 defeat to the Memphis Grizzlies, a one-point game that turned on a late jumper, a missed chance to reset the offense, and a final possession that ended with De’Aaron Fox, the Spurs’ preferred closer, getting his potential game-winner blocked.

The result has ignited a familiar discussion in San Antonio: how much of this is on the players, and how much is on head coach Mitch Johnson? With the Spurs still in the middle of a season defined by development, injuries, and a constantly shifting rotation, fans are asking whether Johnson’s late-game management — particularly in this matchup — cost the team a win.

The short answer is that this loss had fingerprints everywhere: roster limitations, execution mistakes, and inexperienced decision-making all played roles. But as the final seconds unfolded, several coaching choices — and one non-negotiable medical decision — became impossible to ignore.

How the Final 40 Seconds Unraveled

The last half-minute played out like a checklist of “what ifs.”

With 37 seconds left, Memphis guard Cam Spencer knocked down an 18-foot jumper to give the Grizzlies a 106–105 lead. It was a simple shot in the midrange, but it flipped the scoreboard and tightened the air in the building instantly.

San Antonio’s next trip ended with a shot that raised eyebrows: a Jeremy Sochan three-pointer with around 26 seconds remaining. The Spurs didn’t convert, and in a one-point game, the selection mattered. Not because Sochan should never shoot — he has to stay willing — but because Memphis’ defense was clearly comfortable letting him take it. The Grizzlies weren’t scrambling to contest. They were daring.

After the miss, the Spurs intentionally fouled, sending former Spur Jock Landale to the line. Landale missed both free throws, keeping the score at 106–105 and handing San Antonio a rare gift: a chance to win without needing a three.

Then came the final possession — and the sequence that will dominate film sessions and radio calls for days.

San Antonio pushed the ball up without calling a timeout. Fox, a former Clutch Player of the Year and the Spurs’ most trusted late-game creator, got to his spot to attempt the winner. Memphis forward Santi Aldama rotated into the play from behind and blocked the shot. Game over.

Memphis survived. San Antonio left with another “should-have-had-it” loss.

The Victor Wembanyama Question: Why Was He Not Closing?

The loudest and most emotional part of the conversation after the game centered on Victor Wembanyama — not his talent, not his impact, but his availability.

Wembanyama was on a minutes restriction, and he ended up playing roughly 21 minutes total, including only about nine minutes in the second half. In those limited second-half minutes, he produced 19 points, a stretch that captured the contradiction of the night: the Spurs had the best player on the floor by an enormous margin at times, and still couldn’t access him when the game was decided.

Fans pointed to a moment that looked like proof he was feeling fine: Wembanyama was seen kicking a ball stuck in the net late in the first quarter — not a medical diagnostic, of course, but a reminder of how physically comfortable he appeared.

The frustration is understandable. When your best player is dominating, it’s natural to ask: Could he not have played 30 seconds? One final minute? Just the closing possession?

That question, however, sits at the intersection of competitive urgency and organizational caution.

Minutes restrictions aren’t always “coach’s choice.” Often, they are medical directives tied to injury management, workload planning, and risk evaluation — the kind of internal decision teams treat as a hard line, not a suggestion. And even if a player looks fine, the Spurs may be following a plan that prioritizes the season and long-term health over one January win.

Still, from a basketball standpoint, the optics were brutal: a one-point game, final possession, and Wembanyama on the bench.

If the restriction truly had no flexibility, that’s one thing. If there was room to manage it differently — earlier minutes distribution, a slightly shorter stint elsewhere, a brief closing appearance — then the backlash will only grow.

The Timeout That Never Came — and Why It Matters

Even if you accept that Wembanyama could not re-enter, the most direct coaching criticism from this game centers on something simpler:

San Antonio did not call timeout after Landale missed both free throws.

Coaches are always balancing tempo. Not calling timeout can preserve a chance to attack a defense before it sets. It can prevent substitutions. It can allow your best creator to flow into a favorable matchup.

But there’s a tradeoff: you lose the ability to draw up a set that creates your best shot, and you risk exactly what happened to San Antonio — a possession that becomes predictable, crowded, and vulnerable to a timely help defender.

The film angle fans keep pointing to is that other options may have been available. On the play, Julian Champagnie appeared open on the wing, and there were moments where a quick reversal or a designed action could have forced Memphis to rotate in a different pattern.

Instead, San Antonio trusted Fox to make a play in semi-transition. That isn’t inherently wrong — Fox is the guy you want with the ball late. But if you’re going to waive the timeout, you need spacing, clear lanes, and strong off-ball organization. The Spurs didn’t get any of that, and Aldama’s block was the punishment.

In late-game basketball, “we trust our closer” can’t be the only plan. Not when defenses load up and long athletes are waiting to collapse from behind.

Rotations and Spacing: When Two Non-Shooters Turn Into a Defensive Blueprint

The Spurs’ spacing issues weren’t limited to the final possession. A recurring point from the postgame discussion was the discomfort created by lineups featuring Carter Bryant and Jeremy Sochan together.

The complaint is blunt but reflects a real strategic problem: when two players on the floor are struggling from three, defenses stop guarding them. That changes everything.

In the clip described, both Bryant and Sochan were left eight to ten feet of space on the perimeter while Wembanyama was drawing multiple defenders inside. The result is the nightmare version of modern NBA offense:

the paint is crowded
driving lanes disappear
post touches become contested
kick-outs go to players the defense wants to shoot

This isn’t a personal indictment of any one player. It’s a roster and lineup math problem. If your perimeter threats aren’t respected, the opponent can shrink the floor, load the paint, and turn your stars into passers to low-percentage outcomes.

The Spurs have seen this pattern before: a possession begins with advantage, ends with a reluctant three by a player the defense is ignoring.

That happened again in this game, and it’s the kind of issue that is partially on roster construction, partially on player development — and partially on coaching lineup choices.

The Sochan Shot Selection Debate: Three Threes in 14 Minutes

Sochan’s night became a lightning rod, not because he didn’t play hard — he reportedly had strong defensive moments, grabbed rebounds quickly, and brought energy — but because the shot profile continues to be a challenge.

He took three three-pointers in 14 minutes, including one with 28 seconds left in a one-point game. That’s the kind of stat line that triggers fans immediately, especially when the opponent’s defense is openly conceding those shots.

The critique is about efficiency and timing. According to the commentary in your transcript, Sochan hadn’t made a three since November 18, and he was 0-for-his-last-16 from deep. When a player is in that kind of stretch, opponents will dare him — and they did.

This is where coaching and player responsibility overlap:

Players need to make reads and understand late-game priorities.
Coaches need to guide those priorities with clear shot hierarchy and late-game play calls.

If the Spurs are going to win close games consistently, they have to eliminate possessions where the defense successfully funnels them into the least efficient shot on the floor at the most important time.

Execution Errors: It Wasn’t Only the Coach

While the postgame reaction focused heavily on Johnson, the truth is that San Antonio’s mistakes weren’t limited to the sideline.

The transcript points to Stephon Castle repeatedly attacking into heavy traffic and getting blocked multiple times in the paint. That’s a young-player pattern — aggressive, fearless, but sometimes unaware of how quickly NBA defenses collapse.

Those are teaching moments. They’re also the kinds of possessions that swing one-point games.

Fox getting blocked on the final attempt isn’t “a coaching error” in isolation. It’s a basketball play. Sometimes a defender makes a great rotation and wins the moment. But the Spurs’ overall late-game organization — from spacing to timing to whether a timeout should have been used — did contribute to how vulnerable that shot became.

The loss, in other words, wasn’t purely on Johnson. It wasn’t purely on the players. It was the combination that makes rebuilding teams lose close games even when they “should” win: thin margins, inconsistent shot-making, and late-game structure that isn’t fully matured yet.

Is Mitch Johnson to Blame? The Real Answer

The direct question Spurs fans asked after the game — “Is this loss on Mitch?” — doesn’t have a clean, satisfying answer, but the fairest evaluation looks like this:

What is reasonably on the coach

Not calling timeout after two missed free throws to set a final play
Lineup choices that created spacing issues at critical moments
Late-game shot hierarchy not being clear enough to avoid low-value attempts

What isn’t fully on the coach

A player missing open shots the defense concedes
A good final look getting blocked by a great help defender
Young players making aggressive but flawed decisions in traffic
Medical restrictions that may be non-negotiable

If the minutes restriction was truly rigid, the staff’s hands may have been tied on Wembanyama. But the timeout decision was not medical. That one belongs to the bench.

The Bigger Picture: A Young Team and a Young Coach Learning the Same Lessons

There’s an important context point that got lost in the anger: Mitch Johnson is new to this seat.

If this is his first real season carrying head-coach responsibility, he’s going to have learning nights too — and close-game management is often the last area to stabilize. Veteran coaches have scars from dozens of endings like this. Young coaches collect those scars in real time.

San Antonio’s season has also been shaped by injuries and constant lineup reshuffling. That complicates everything from spacing to late-game combinations. One night the Spurs close with one group; the next night it’s different because availability is different.

That doesn’t excuse a late timeout decision. But it does explain why the Spurs can look brilliant one week — beating strong teams, competing above expectations — and then look disorganized in crunch time the next.

Development isn’t linear. It’s messy.

What the Spurs Have to Fix Before the Next Close Game

If San Antonio wants to start flipping these one-point losses into wins, three themes stand out:

End-of-game structure
If Fox is taking the shot, create the best version of that shot: spacing, decoys, and a plan for the second option.
Spacing lineups
Avoid closing groups where multiple perimeter players are being ignored. If defenses can camp in the paint, the offense becomes predictable.
Shot hierarchy clarity
In late-game possessions, the Spurs can’t drift into “open equals good.” They need “open for the right player equals good.”

And if Wembanyama’s minutes are going to be managed tightly, the Spurs also need to plan for those final moments: who closes, what actions are run, and how the team compensates for not having its best rim pressure and gravity on the floor.