Much has been made of the arid state of NBA rivalries, a parched climate that owes itself to, depending on who you ask, player empowerment, AAU culture, the parity era, or the internet's anti-geographic effects. There's something to this, though all but the most committed Celtics-Lakers nostalgists would admit to at least one current exception: Nuggets-Timberwolves. These two teams are perfect stylistic and temperamental foils for each other, and they're currently three games into their third playoff series in the last four years. The present go-round is as laden with spite and loathing as the last one, a seven-game second-round slugfest in 2024, delivering reliably great theater and occasionally great basketball. As I was watching the Wolves dominate Game 3 on Thursday night, which they won 113-96 to grab a 2-1 lead in the series, I was struck by the impression that the emotional center of both the Wolves and their rivalry with the Nuggets is the brilliant, irrepressible Jaden McDaniels.
Each of the past two postseasons, Minnesota has reached the Western Conference Finals, somewhat against the expectations of many experts, though the Wolves' style makes them the most obvious group of playoff risers in the NBA. The issues that plague them in the regular season—drifting focus, weak backend rotation, a tendency to play down to inferior competition, Julius Randle all but sleeping on the court—are of a sort that burn off in the playoff crucible. Their strengths—indomitable physicality, a rock-solid top-seven, autarkic anchors on both ends of the court—matter way more. The guy that makes it all work is McDaniels. The wiry Seattle native is the ideal complementary wing player, in terms of both his skillset and the edge he gives his team as a leader.
McDaniels can guard up and down the lineup, he's a good rebounder, and he's figured out exactly how to play as a third and occasional fourth option. The consensus theory of this sort of player is that they are best left in the corner to provide a release valve for those responsible for dribbling the basketball. McDaniels has done a good deal of that in his career, though this year especially he has elevated Minnesota's offense by greatly improving his offensive game. He's now way more comfortable attacking closeouts and finishing in the lane, and he's figured out that when his drives get stopped, he can pass the ball to a teammate. The trick with McDaniels is that he's comfortable playing like a higher-usage player in a supporting role. He's not waving off Anthony Edwards to go one-on-one; he's found the right balance of aggression and deference.
But his calling card is defense, which brings us back to Thursday night's Game 3. It was Minnesota's from the jump. McDaniels had Jamal Murray in hell, an echo of the Wolves' stunning performance in Game 2 of that 2024 meeting, when he and Nickeil Alexander-Walker held Murray to 3-for-18 shooting. So much of Denver's offense depends on Murray getting space, typically around Nikola Jokic but often with his dribble. McDaniels's physical advantage over Murray is significant, as he's shifty enough to stay with Murray on the perimeter and so much taller and longer that Murray really cannot get free without help from a screener. Even when he has one, McDaniels is one of the hardest guys to screen in the league.
In Game 3, McDaniels kept the Nuggets from ever establishing a rhythm. While much has been made of Rudy Gobert's tremendous one-on-one defense on Jokic, he is only in position to play Jokic straight-up because McDaniels is preventing Denver from really even running any of its actions. While Jokic is amazing, when he's only getting the ball in bad positions and at a standstill, with no cutters to hit, he's going to struggle against both the bigger Gobert and the Wolves' cadre of terrifying help defenders.
The most prominent thing McDaniels has done in this series is talk shit. After Game 2, he delivered the quote of the playoffs so far, when he answered a question about his team's offensive strategy by saying that the plan was to go at their bad defenders, a group that included every member of the team. "Go at Jokic, Jamal, all the bad defenders," McDaniels said. "Tim Hardaway (Jr.), Cam Johnson, Aaron Gordon, the whole team — just go at them. They’re all bad defenders." He then did just that in Game 3, confidently attacking rotations and even running pick-and-rolls directly at Jokic.
The through-line between the pesky defense, the smart, insistent offense, and his deadpan manner is that McDaniels is one of the most intense players in the NBA. Opponents clearly hate to play him, because he never, ever lets up, talks shit on every possession, and can't be cowed. That intensity is slightly unsuited to the grind of the regular season, and McDaniels infamously missed the 2023 series against Denver after punching a wall and breaking his hand. That galvanized him, and he made a vow to his teammates he'd never let them down like that again.
"He’s crazy," Donte DiVincenzo said after Game 3. "We love him." His coach Chris Finch agreed. "Jaden is one our intense and most ornery competitors," Finch said. My only quibble was the qualifier. There is nobody as intense as McDaniels in this series, and maybe in these playoffs.
Every team needs someone like this. In order to keep putting your body on the line, fighting on every possession, committing the physical and emotional energy required to play hard defense and mount comebacks, you need someone with McDaniels's sort of unstoppable psycho energy. How could you give any less than full effort when this particular guy is going nuts?
McDaniels is nearly always stonefaced, the picture of calm terror, but he let the mask slip last night. Late in the fourth quarter, he punctuated the win by driving hard and dunking all over the Nuggets frontline. Even he had to feel good about that one.
