The roar inside Little Caesars Arena on Monday night was not the sound of simple celebration; it was the sound of disbelief, of catharsis, and of an entire franchise finally embracing the defiant, unyielding, and sometimes messy nature of its new superstar. When the final buzzer confirmed the Detroit Pistons’ chaotic, adrenaline-drenched 137-135 overtime victory against the Washington Wizards, the box score that emerged was unlike anything the modern NBA has witnessed. It was a statistical testament to sheer willpower, an anomaly that simultaneously validated the Detroit Pistons’ leader, Cade Cunningham, and sparked a furious, necessary debate about the very definition of heroic basketball.
Cunningham finished the night with a career-high 46 points, a monumental triple-double (12 rebounds, 11 assists), and a disruptive 5 steals and 2 blocks—a defensive and offensive stat line so unique, it had never been achieved in NBA history. This was the narrative of a young leader putting a team, currently leading the competitive Eastern Conference with a 9-2 record, on his back and refusing to let it lose. But there was another, far more sensational number attached to his performance: 45. Cade Cunningham attempted 45 field goals, hitting only 14 of them, which meant he missed a staggering 31 shots. That single figure, 31, was a historic landmark—it shattered the NBA record, tracked since 1983, for the most missed field goals in a single game, surpassing the infamous mark of 30 set by the late, great Kobe Bryant in 2002.
This juxtaposition of brilliant creation and statistical inefficiency makes the game a profound microcosm of the Detroit Pistons’ identity under Cunningham: raw, tough, unrelenting, and perfectly comfortable with fighting through the noise. It was a performance defined not by its smoothness, but by its glorious, gritty resolve.
The Anatomy of a Polarizing Masterpiece
The Pistons, riding a six-game winning streak and looking every bit like a contender, walked into a trap. The Wizards, despite their 1-10 record and nine-game losing skid, played with the freedom of a team with nothing to lose. Led by the magnificent 42-point explosion from veteran CJ McCollum, Washington kept the game tight, capitalizing on the Pistons’ struggles to find an offensive rhythm outside of Cunningham’s individual brilliance.
The game swung violently in the third quarter when the Wizards’ attack started humming, pushing their lead to double digits. By the fourth quarter, the atmosphere had gone from electric to anxious. With just over four minutes remaining in regulation, Detroit trailed by eight, 117-109, and the momentum felt irretrievably lost.
Then came the moment that crystallized the night’s sheer emotional stakes. Cunningham, attempting to inject some urgency with a fast-break dunk, was chased down and fouled hard by Cam Whitmore. The collision sent Cunningham tumbling through the air and crashing hard onto his lower back. The stadium held its breath. Cunningham, clearly in significant pain, writhed on the floor before finally being helped off, a chilling moment that threatened to derail the entire comeback.
But great leaders don’t just score; they inspire. When Cunningham returned after a brief, tense interlude, something fundamental had shifted. The pain was etched in his eyes, but it seemed to have refined his focus. He attacked the basket with renewed ferocity, not just for points, but for free throws, converting on 16 of his 18 attempts from the stripe, a crucial element of his final 46 points that validated his aggressive approach. The team, spurred by the sight of their leader fighting through obvious discomfort, raised their defensive intensity to a fever pitch.
The Miracle and the Mayhem of the Final Seconds
Cunningham led a furious 15-7 run that clawed the Pistons back into the game. With 1.9 seconds left in regulation, the Pistons were down 127-124. The play drawn up by Coach J.B. Bickerstaff was designed for Cunningham, the designated hero. But as often happens in the chaos of a clutch moment, the play broke down. Jalen Duren slipped while setting a screen, forcing Cunningham to improvise with the game clock ticking down to zero.
Instead of forcing a contested, impossible shot, Cunningham did something even more remarkable: he trusted a teammate. He zipped an improvisational pass to rookie guard Daniss Jenkins in the corner. Jenkins, who had been a non-factor in the previous three games, received the pass, elevated over the Wizards defender, and drained the game-tying three-pointer as the buzzer sounded. The shot was a collective heart-stopping release, a ‘miracle’ that sent the game to overtime and proved that Cunningham’s leadership was not just about his shot attempts, but his willingness to empower others when the moment demanded it. Jenkins’ 24-point performance off the bench was itself a heroic effort, but that final shot was the stuff of Detroit legend.
Overtime was a breathless, back-and-forth street fight. The Wizards, stunned but not defeated, continued to rely on McCollum’s scoring. But the Pistons now had the emotional advantage. A key three-pointer from Duncan Robinson, assisted by Cunningham, put Detroit ahead for good, 134-133. The final, decisive blow came from an aggressive offensive rebound by Duren, who immediately fed Javonte Green for an emphatic dunk that pushed the lead to three with 25 seconds left. Cunningham’s fingerprints were all over the final sequence, orchestrating the offense, dominating the glass, and forcing the defensive errors that swung the final margin.
The Kobe Comparison: Volume, Will, and the Virtue of Shooting
The 45 shots, and the subsequent record for missed field goals, will undoubtedly become the headline, drawing inevitable comparisons to Kobe Bryant, the undisputed king of volume scoring and relentless shot-taking. Bryant’s ethos—that you have to be willing to miss twenty-five times to make the twenty-sixth shot—is embodied in Cunningham’s performance.
In the context of this game, the 45 shots were not the sign of a selfish player; they were a function of necessity. The Pistons were missing key personnel, playing on the second night of a back-to-back, and facing an opponent who refused to back down. Cunningham’s high usage rate was a direct response to the offensive vacuum on the court. His 11 assists and commitment to the defensive end—becoming the first player ever with 40+ points, 10+ rebounds, 10+ assists, and 5+ steals in a single game, joining Michael Jordan as the only players with 40+ PTS, 10+ REB, 10+ AST and 5+ STL—proves his intent was holistic, not merely personal. He was shooting for the win, leading on both ends of the court, a true superstar performance.
Cunningham’s night was not a lesson in efficiency; it was a masterclass in persistence. He embodied the ‘Detroit Grit’ that Coach Bickerstaff continually praises—the unwillingness to give up, to shrink from the moment, or to stop believing that the next shot would fall. The fact that the Pistons won, stretching their improbable win streak to seven games and solidifying their place atop the Eastern Conference, validates the sheer force of Cunningham’s will.
The box score for Cade Cunningham was a mess of extremes—a historic triple-double juxtaposed with an unprecedented number of misses. But in the end, the only number that truly mattered was 137. The Pistons won. And in the crucible of this chaotic, polarizing overtime victory, Cade Cunningham proved once and for all that he is a force capable of carrying a team through a fire, no matter how many shots it takes. The legend of the 45 shots will be debated, but the win will endure.
