By Jesse Marx
By Chris Parker
By Jake Rossen
By Jesse Marx
By Michelle LeBow
By Alleen Brown
By Maggie LaMaack
By CP Staff
Two months into the 2000-01 season, the Minnesota Timberwolves were, to quote my last column, "a deeply flawed ball club with about a 50-50 chance of falling out of the playoffs for the first time in five years." Since then, of course, the Wolves have amassed a 13-3 record, including a franchise-record ten straight wins, and as I write this are just one and a half games behind Utah in the battle for a number-two seed in the NBA playoffs. The obvious question: What has the team done to make my forecast so wrong?
The conventional wisdom is to credit the team's offense. The Wolves generate a greater proportion of their points through mid-range jump shots (instead of lay-ups, free throws, or three-pointers) than any other team club in the NBA. So the thinking is that Minnesota flounders or, as in recent weeks, thrives based on the accuracy of those j's. There is evidence to support this theory. Through the end of January, the median shooting percentage in the NBA was 44.1 per cent. In games where the Wolves' shooters were better than average, the team's record was 26-9.
But a stronger case can be made that the team's hot streak is primarily the result of an improved defense. During the first two months of the season, when the Wolves were losing nearly as often as they won, the team's shooting percentage was already among the half-dozen best in the NBA. At the same time, Minnesota was allowing the highest field-goal percentage in the 29-team league. When the Wolves' hold their opponents to a shooting percentage below the 44.1 per cent median, their record (a splendid 18-3) is even better than when they are shooting well.
Put simply, while the team's offense has been sharper in recent weeks, the more dramatic and significant improvement has taken place at the other end of the court. There is an assortment of interrelated reasons for this upgrade.
During his brief NBA career, the six-foot-three Billups has never been known as a staunch defender, even when matched up against smaller point guards. Asked to start as an off-guard--where he had to play against taller, generally more scoring-oriented players--the first-year Timberwolf not only had to learn a new system at a relatively new position, he was physically overmatched. The Wolves wisely replaced Billups with Anthony Peeler, who is only an inch taller, but knows the position, understands Saunders's defensive sets, and, quite frankly, seems to take more pride in shutting down his opponent.
The Billups alibis don't apply to Nesterovic, a seven-footer who has been with the Wolves for more than a year and a half now. If anything, Rasho seems even more bereft than he was last season trying to parse Saunders's defensive rotations. Schooled in Europe--where simplistic, lazy zone-oriented defenses predominate, and where the game is less rugged--he lacks the instincts, toughness, and tenacity to be an effective defender. In particular, his half-assed switches when defending the pick-and-roll play leave him and his affected teammate in no man's land while opponents decide which of their unguarded players should sink an open shot.
Nesterovic remains a starter only because the Wolves can't afford to let his fragile confidence plummet any further. But when the team needs a lift in the second quarter or is trying to close out a victory at crunch time, Saunders invariably relies on LaPhonso Ellis to man the center position. Compensating for his lack of height with a synergistic mix of savvy and bruising aggressiveness, the six-foot-eight Ellis is a perfect fit for the Wolves' quick, disruptive defensive rotations. It's no coincidence that the team's lack of interior toughness along with its vulnerability to high-low pick-and-rolls were minimized once Saunders began extending Phonse's playing time.
The stoic Brandon, enigmatic throughout his tenure with the Wolves, claims he is playing no differently, a patent absurdity to even casual fans. The more plausible explanation is that he has had difficulty playing hurt. A week into January, Saunders let it slip that Brandon told the coach his chronic ankle injuries were feeling better than they had in five years. Brandon, who took heat from both the media and Saunders after publicly expressing frustration with his ankle problems in December, now refuses to discuss the issue. But whether it is the absence of pain or his fiery, classy response to all the trade rumors that had him going to the Knicks for Allen Houston, Brandon's defense has never been better. Using his quick hands the way a poke-checker wields his stick in hockey, he has risen to the top of the league in steals, dodging and fighting his way through picks--providing pressure on the perimeter that simply wasn't there earlier in the season.