The LIED to us About the Timberwolves…

MINNEAPOLIS — For two straight seasons, the Minnesota Timberwolves have lived in the same box: elite defense, Anthony Edwards superstardom, and just enough offense to survive the Western Conference gauntlet. That storyline made sense when the Wolves were climbing.

It doesn’t make sense anymore.

Because what’s happening this year doesn’t look like a repeat. It looks like an upgrade.

The league spent the offseason debating whether Minnesota’s window was peaking, whether the roster had enough creation, whether the offense could keep up with the new era of spacing and five-out pressure. But through the first stretch of this season, the Wolves are answering with something far more convincing than one star going nuclear:

Depth.

The version of Minnesota we’re watching now is built to win multiple styles of games, built to absorb foul trouble, built to survive cold shooting nights, and—most importantly—built to swing playoff series with three different “role players” who are playing like they could start almost anywhere else.

And yes, it still begins with Anthony Edwards.

But it no longer ends there.

The Anthony Edwards Leap: This Isn’t Hype Anymore, It’s a Peak

If you want one sentence to summarize the Wolves’ season so far, it’s this:

Anthony Edwards is playing like a top-tier MVP candidate, and Minnesota is deep enough to take advantage of it.

Edwards’ scoring profile has been the headline—because it’s not just volume, it’s quality. The numbers in your clip paint the picture of an Ant season that forces defensive coordinators into uncomfortable choices:

roughly 29 points per game
efficient 50% from the field
scorching 41% from three on high volume (around eight attempts per game)
plus the defensive disruption (stocks, pressure, physicality)

That’s the kind of statline that normally belongs to heliocentric superstars: the guards who bend a defense so far that the floor becomes a math problem.

And Edwards is doing it with a toolkit that’s now complete. He can:

walk into pull-up threes without needing a complex action
punish bigs in drop with confident step-ins
use screens to get to a preferred spot even against elite point-of-attack defenders
finish through contact when the lane collapses
and, crucially, make the right pass when the third defender arrives

That last part is what changes Minnesota’s ceiling. A “star scorer” can win you a round. A “star scorer who consistently punishes extra help” can win you a title—because playoff defenses don’t play you honestly. They scheme to break your habits.

Ant’s growth is making those schemes expensive.

The Wolves’ One Problem Wasn’t Talent — It Was Consistency

Minnesota hasn’t struggled to “show up” against big opponents. They’ve shown they can beat anyone. In the clip, the pattern is clear: the Wolves can win statement games, then turn around and drop games they shouldn’t lose.

That type of inconsistency is common for teams that are still learning how to win at a championship pace. They have the top-end punch, but the nightly discipline comes and goes.

What’s changed recently—and what’s driving optimism around Minnesota’s title viability—is that the Wolves appear to be addressing that weakness with:

multiple 25+ point wins
a win streak
and cleaner execution in the half court

That’s not just “they’re playing harder.” It’s usually a sign of two deeper things:

the rotation is stabilizing
the team’s offensive structure is becoming more automatic

And that leads directly to the next point.

Chris Finch’s Quiet Argument: Minnesota Is Winning on Both Ends

Coaching narratives in the NBA are often lazy. If a team wins, the coach is a genius. If they lose, the coach is “out of ideas.” Real coaching impact shows up when you can identify actions that repeatedly generate the same advantage.

This Wolves team, as described in the clip, is getting advantages through structure, not just shot-making.

The highlights weren’t just “Ant hits a three.” They were:

misdirection sets that look like one action, then morph into another
split-post looks that force switches and create mismatches
sequences that begin with down screens to get movement, then flow into attacks
corner shooters being positioned so the help defender gets punished every time

That’s the difference between an offense that survives and one that scales.

The clip points to Minnesota being:

top-tier in points per game
top 10 in offensive rating
and near the top in defensive rating

If that’s your profile—top offense and top defense—you’re not “dangerous.”

You’re a championship template.

The Julius Randle Factor: A Second Engine Changes Everything

A lot of teams have a star. Fewer teams have two players who can bend the defense in different ways.

In the version of Minnesota described here, Julius Randle has become a central piece—not as a simple “second scorer,” but as a pressure point that changes how opponents are allowed to guard the Wolves.

Randle’s value comes from one brutal concept: the middle of the floor.

When Randle gets to his middle iso or catches at the nail and starts backing down, you are forced into a decision:

single coverage: he punishes mismatches with strength and footwork
double team: he has become a good enough passer to hit the exact seam the double came from

That’s why the clip emphasizes that if you double from anywhere, “he’s going to throw it right behind where that double came from.” That’s not just a highlight—it’s playoff geometry.

Because if you double Randle and he consistently makes the “simple” pass, Minnesota’s shooters get clean looks, and Minnesota’s bigs get lobs or dunks.

And when you combine a passer like that with a guard like Ant, your help principles start to collapse. You can’t load up on both. You can’t over-help without giving up something efficient.

That’s how high-level offenses become unguardable: not through one unstoppable player, but through two players who make the defense wrong in opposite directions.

The Rudy Gobert Fit: Better Than People Wanted to Admit

The immediate reaction many fans have when they see certain frontcourt pairings is “spacing.” It’s a valid concern—until the team builds a system that makes the spacing issue irrelevant.

In this Wolves setup, Gobert’s value isn’t in “shooting” (it never is). It’s in:

screen quality
vertical gravity
rim pressure without dribbling
and defensive control that fuels transition

The clip’s examples—Gobert screens leading to Ant downhill attacks, and the weakside help leaving corner shooters unattended—are exactly how a non-shooting center becomes a positive on offense. Gobert doesn’t need to space. He needs to force rotation.

And if Randle is drawing attention at the nail, Gobert’s cuts and lobs become even cleaner. Suddenly, the defense is protecting against Ant’s pull-up, Randle’s bully-ball, and Gobert’s vertical threat—all while trying not to lose shooters.

That’s the trap.

The Real Reason Minnesota Can Win It All: The “Role Player Big Three”

Every contender is judged in the playoffs by a simple truth:

Stars get you there. Role players determine whether you survive.

What makes Minnesota feel different is that their best “role players” don’t look like role players. They look like series-swingers.

1) Jaden McDaniels: When He Scores, Minnesota Wins

If you’ve watched playoff basketball, you know the type: a long defender who can guard multiple positions, disrupt actions, and then punish you when you hide a weaker defender on him.

The clip frames McDaniels as having:

a career year
efficient scoring (including a big leap in three-point accuracy)
plus the defensive impact (“stocks”)

The key detail: when McDaniels contributes offensively, the Wolves become extremely difficult to beat.

Why? Because it means the opponent can’t “cheat” defense by treating him as a non-threat. If McDaniels is cutting, hitting corner threes, and finishing at the rim, then:

help rotations are slower
doubles on Ant/Randle are riskier
and Minnesota’s lineup has fewer weak points to target

In a seven-game series, that matters more than almost any bench statistic.

2) Naz Reid: A Starter-Level Player in a Bench Role

Every team wants a big who can:

stretch the floor enough to matter
defend well enough to stay on
pass just enough to keep the ball moving

Naz Reid checks that box, and the reason he’s so valuable is role flexibility. He can play in lineups that:

go bigger
go smaller
switch more
or emphasize spacing

He’s the kind of player who can flip a series simply because he allows Minnesota to match styles. If the opponent goes small, Reid can punish. If the opponent stays big, Reid can drag a big out of the paint.

That versatility is a playoff weapon.

3) Donte DiVincenzo: Volume Shooting + Competitiveness

Shooting is not just percentage. It’s willingness, gravity, and timing.

DiVincenzo’s profile in the clip is basically:

high-volume threes (around eight attempts)
secondary playmaking (assists)
and defensive activity (steals)

Even if the percentage isn’t perfect, a shooter who launches confidently changes your spacing. Defenses react differently to “maybe shooters” than they do to “that guy might take 10 threes tonight.”

In the postseason, that can be the difference between a late-clock contested jumper and a clean corner three created by one extra half-step of gravity.

Minnesota’s Rotation Advantage: More Answers Than Most Teams

Beyond the “role player big three,” the clip points out something contenders covet:

functional depth at point guard.

Whether it’s Mike Conley in a reduced role, or another guard providing spark minutes, the point is this: Minnesota can survive different matchup problems without forcing Ant to carry every possession.

That matters because postseason series often break down into:

“Can you create a good shot late?”
“Can you protect the ball?”
“Can you execute after timeouts?”

Depth gives you more solutions when one solution gets schemed out.

The Scary Part: What If These Guys Had Bigger Roles Elsewhere?

One line in the clip hits like a warning siren: a player who used to sit behind this depth chart is now putting up big numbers elsewhere. The exact name and team don’t matter as much as the point:

Minnesota’s ecosystem is talented enough that players who can thrive elsewhere may not even be primary options here.

That’s what happens when your “supporting cast” is legitimately playoff-level and your stars are strong enough to command the defense’s attention.

In other words: Minnesota is not thin. Minnesota is not fragile. Minnesota is not a one-injury collapse team.

They look like a roster that can take punches.

What Has to Improve for a Title Run?

Even if you buy the championship argument, there are still two concerns that show up in the clip—and they’re real for any contender.

1) Late-game execution and consistency

The Wolves have had stretches where they beat top opponents, then lose games they should control. In the playoffs, you can’t afford that mental slippage. A title team closes.

The good news is that the recent trend—bigger wins, streaks, cleaner offense—suggests Minnesota is building the habit.

2) Shooting variance

Even good shooting teams have cold nights. The question is whether Minnesota can win those nights with defense, rebounding, and rim pressure. This roster is built to do that—but it still has to prove it in four rounds.