Who Sits On the Throne: Thunder’s New Dynasty, Nova Knicks Dilemma, Celtics Tank Temptation & Lakers Succession

By Vince Carter

The Center of the NBA Universe Runs Through Oklahoma City”

I live in Los Angeles. I hear the Lakers noise every day.
Seven-game win streaks hit and suddenly it’s “we’re back,” parade routes mapped out in the group chats, confetti in the Twitter bio.

Meanwhile, in Oklahoma City, the defending champs are 20–1… and nobody over there is acting like anything is finished.

Sam Presti is on a preseason podium in September talking about a “process of improvement,” calling a title team “all beginners again,” warning them not to imitate last year’s version of themselves. That’s the gap.

Out here, people are trying to relive a moment.
Out there, they’re quietly building something they expect to last.

And that’s why on FRPC I said it plain:

“The center of the NBA universe runs through Oklahoma City.”

I meant it. Let’s walk through the receipts.

The 20–1 Wagon

The basics are already disrespectful:

• 20–1 record

• Top-3 in scoring at around 122 a night

• 18th in pace – they’re not just running kids off the floor

• Best defense in the league – roughly 103–107 points allowed per 100 possessions depending on which split you use

• Net rating around +15 – that’s historic territory

[Pre-Production] Dominant scoring + elite defense + normal pace = no gimmicks. That’s classic contender math, not a cute hot streak. (source: team stats)

They’re not front-running, not playing pickup track meet basketball, not living off one weird lineup. This is a professional, repeatable formula.

And they’re doing it while one of their three best players, Jalen Williams, has barely been upright. A second-team All-NBA, second-team All-Defense guy has basically missed the story so far… and they’re still on a 70-win trajectory.

Shai: When 30 Points Feels Like a Bad Night

There’s a moment in Season 2 of Starting Five that tells you everything about where Shai Gilgeous-Alexander is mentally.

“There was a point where I got 30 and thought it was a good game.
Now if I have 30, it’s a bad game… it’s below my average.”

That’s not an IG caption. That’s how he’s actually living.

Right now:

• 32.5 points per game in about 33.5 minutes

• Around 11 free throws a night, plus 6.6 assists

• True shooting: .674

• Usage: 33.4

• Offensive BPM: 9.8

• Total BPM: 13.2

• WS/48: .381 – that’s “only Jokic and the ghosts are up here” territory

Shot profile? It’s disgusting in the best way:

• About 74% of his attempts are 2s

• 0–3 feet: ~20% of his shots, hitting around 73%

• Midrange (3–10, 10–16, 16–3P): he lives there and still shoots in the 50s

• Threes: ~26% of his attempts, 41% from deep, about 40% from the corners

• Only ~17% of his 2s and 20% of his 3s are assisted

Translation: this isn’t a system baby. This is a self-created, three-level problem who gets to his spots whenever he wants and cashes them.

[Before the mics are hot] High-usage, high-efficiency, mostly self-created buckets = true MVP profile. That’s not opinion, that’s advanced metric language. (source: advanced stat table)

And then you zoom the camera out.

Over the last calendar year:

• 93 straight 20-point games – second-longest streak in NBA history

• Only Wilt has a longer run, with 126

• During this stretch he’s flirting with 65% true shooting, near 39% from three

• Leads the NBA with 1,800+ drives, outpacing the field by hundreds

• Over 1,400 points on drives, the only guy over 1,000 in that window besides Cade Cunningham

• Over 1,000 points on pull-up jumpers, shooting about 49.8% on pull-ups overall and 44.7% on pull-up threes

If he averages 30+ again, that’ll be his fourth straight season at that level, putting him in the company of Iverson, Kareem, Dantley, Jerry West. Above them? Only Jordan, Wilt, Oscar.

So when I call him “a quiet assassin” and say the league’s best player might live in OKC, it’s not vibes. It’s because the numbers and the film are both screaming the same thing.

SGA isn’t having a hot year. He’s building a career arc we normally only see from the names engraved in the arena rafters.

Chet, Hartenstein, and the Role Player Oppression Program

The scariest part of OKC is that Shai could be “just” a normal superstar and this team would still be a problem. The front office has stacked functions around him, not just names.

Chet Holmgren – One Body, Two Problems

• FG%: .555, TS%: .650

• Roughly a third of his attempts from three, hitting about 37.5%

• At the rim (0–3 feet): over 80% finishing

• Stretch big spacing and real rim presence in one package

He isn’t some skinny floor-spacer you can push out of the paint. He’s finishing like a lob threat, shooting like a wing, and anchoring a top-tier defense.

Isaiah Hartenstein – The Cleanup Crew With Star Efficiency

• FG%: .671, TS%: .678

• Distance: 4.7 feet – almost everything is in the paint

• Over 50% of his shots at the rim, hitting around 82%

• Advanced board work: ORB% 13.7, DRB% 27.8, TRB% 21.1

• PER: 21.1, WS/48: .248, BPM: 4.2

He barely gets plays called for him. He just:

1. Screens

2. Rebounds

3. Scores on everything that falls off the rim

And he does it with the efficiency of a guy who makes All-Star ballots when his name is bigger.

The Guards They Grow on Trees

• Ajay Mitchell:

  • TS% .566, usage 24.7, AST% 20.5

  • 72% of his shots are 2s, heavy volume at the rim and in floater range, ~38% from three

• Cason Wallace:

  • TS% .555

  • 55% of his attempts are threes, hitting 46% from deep

  • Strong defensive metrics, positive defensive BPM

• Isaiah Joe:

  • TS% .656

  • 79% of his shots are from three, over 42% from deep

  • Basically lives beyond the arc and still grades out as ultra-efficient

[Before the mics are hot] This is why the “depth” talk hits different here. These aren’t warm bodies. The advanced numbers treat half the rotation like underpaid starters. (source: shooting + advanced tables)

On most teams, Wallace or Joe is starting and playing 32 minutes. In OKC, they’re part of a never-ending wave of plus players in that 6’4” to 6'7" range cycling in with energy and discipline.

Presti’s Process vs. Everybody Else’s Panic

This is where the Succession part of the story kicks in.

In L.A. and the Bay, you’ve got billionaire owners throwing money at the problem like Roy siblings trying to buy one more news cycle. Supermax here, aging core there, picks shipped out like they’re allergic to draft nights.

In Oklahoma City, Sam Presti’s been sitting in the same chair for years, quietly stacking margins:

• 14 of the 15 standard contracts are holdovers from the title team

• The only new standard deal? Thomas Sorber, a 6'10"–6'11" center recovering from an ACL tear

• Nikola Topic, a first-round guard with real lead-guard skills, hasn’t even been unleashed yet because of testicular cancer

They’ve already built a champion. They’re already posting a net rating that makes history pages. And they haven’t even scratched the lottery tickets from last June.

Then there’s the Clippers tax.

• Years ago, L.A. pushed their whole future middle of the table for Kawhi and Paul George.

• OKC took the picks.

• Now, with the Clippers stumbling out to an ugly start and all the PG fallout in Philly, that pain is rolling downhill straight into Presti’s war chest.

If the Clips land in the top of the lottery, the Thunder are right there with them.
You’re talking about a defending champion with:

• An MVP

• Two rising near-stars in Jalen Williams and Chet

• A bench full of “would start for you” guys

• Plus a real shot at a top-3 or top-4 pick in a draft scouts believe has legitimate franchise pieces near the top

And that’s before mentioning the pile of other first-rounders they still control over the next five years.

Presti’s September sermon about “discipline and humility to turn the page” hits different when you realize how much future he’s holding while other teams are paying for the past.

Sustained Dominance, Not a Cute Arc

You can nitpick anything:

• “They’re young, they’ll hit a wall.”

• “Somebody will get hurt.”

• “Nobody wins 70 anymore.”

But here’s what the sport is actually saying:

• Last year: 68 wins, 54 double-digit victories, second-youngest champion ever.

• This year: 20–1 start, best defense, best net rating, and their second-best player has barely been around.

So when I call this sustained dominance, it’s not premature. It’s recognizing the moment before the banners and the documentaries do.

Until somebody beats them four times out of seven, this is the standard.
Everybody else, including the fun little heaters in L.A., is chasing them.

Your Turn

I ended the pod with this, and I’ll end the blog the same way:

If you’re an OKC fan, what’s the first thing that actually scares you about this team?

If you’re a Lakers, Clippers, Nuggets, or Rockets fan, how honest are you about a series against this group right now?

Hit us on X:

• @FrontrunnerPC

• @Socially_FRPC

Tag it with:

• #OKCIsAWagon

• #ChallengersToOKC

• or #NoChallengeToOKC

And we’ll bring the best replies back onto FRPC. Because if the numbers keep looking like this, the conversation is going to run through Oklahoma City whether the league is ready or not.

The resume is real

On paper, this is not your father’s Knicks squad. This rendition comes with plenty of offensive weaponry!

The Knicks are 13–6, with a +7.5 net rating that ranks fourth in the league. They score 120.4 points per game, fifth in the NBA, and sit third in offensive rating at 121.5. They’re not doing it by playing at 105 possessions a night and outrunning people; their pace is 99.1, down in the low 20s league-wide. Opponents are scoring 112.9 a game, and the defense grades out 13th in defensive rating at 114.0.

[Before the mics are hot] That’s inner-circle adjacent: elite offense, strong overall margin, and a defense that’s respectable, if not quite ring-ready.

If you zoom out and pretend you don’t know the logo, this looks like a team that should be talking about conference finals, not whether they’re “for real.” The fact that we’re still asking that question says more about New York’s history than it does about what’s actually happening on the floor.

Brunson’s prime is the clock on all of this

Everything starts and ends with Jalen Brunson. That’s not sentiment, that’s structure.

Brunson is sitting on a 21.8 PER and a .594 true shooting percentage. His usage is just under 32 percent, and his assist percentage is basically 30, which means he’s both the offense’s primary scorer and its main decision-maker. When he’s on the floor, the Knicks feel like an organized attack; when he sits, you can feel everyone searching for that same rhythm.

The shot profile matches what your eyes have been telling you. About two-thirds of his attempts are twos; he lives in the middle of the floor, dipping into the paint, pivoting, pump-faking, and pulling up from exactly the spots defenses are built to take away. The threes are there in moderation, with roughly a third of his shots coming from deep and around league-plus accuracy, just enough to keep everyone honest. Almost all of this is self-created. He is not being spoon-fed.

This is the version of Brunson Nova dreamed about and Dallas probably regrets letting walk out the door: a true offensive engine who can carry you in a playoff series. He is 29. This is the window. Everything that follows, continuity, trades, Nova nostalgia, is really about what you want to do with these two or three peak seasons.

Bodega KAT and the geometry of the offense

Karl-Anthony Towns is the most polarizing piece of this puzzle, and he might also be the one that’s easiest to misunderstand.

In New York, KAT is sitting at a 20.5 PER with .586 true shooting and a 26.3 percent usage rate. He rebounds like a real center, near 10 percent on the offensive glass, over 30 percent on the defensive boards and still takes a big chunk of his shots from three, with a 3-point attempt rate around .344. The raw field goal percentage doesn’t pop the way it did in some of his Minnesota years, but the context is different: he’s not being asked to be the stand-alone franchise scorer. He’s asked to make the floor make sense for Brunson.

And that part is working. KAT’s gravity at the arc yanks opposing bigs away from the paint in a way Knicks guards simply haven’t enjoyed in the Thibs era. That space is why Brunson’s pivots look so clean. It’s why drives don’t always feel like a pileup of three bodies in the restricted area. Towns’ presence turns New York’s offense into something closer to what every elite modern team is chasing: five guys you have to guard, spread across the floor, with one conductor in charge.

Are there KAT moments that make you want to throw the remote? Of course. The 30-foot fouls still show up. There are still possessions where he seems to drift out of the action. But at a macro level, it’s hard to argue that the offense isn’t better with him. In the numbers, he’s giving you over 20 a night with real rebounding and strong efficiency, on a shot diet built to open doors for your point guard.

That’s why, when I went through my checklist on the podcast—“Do you trade Karl-Anthony Towns?”, I landed on a simple answer:

No.

There are only so many stretch bigs on the planet who can shoot, rebound, and keep your spacing honest. You don’t casually ship that out the door because the defense is sitting 13th instead of eighth.

The Mitch question: trust vs reality

The more honest version of the center conversation is the one that makes Knicks fans queasy: Mitchell Robinson.

On the nights he’s right, you can feel why every coach in the league wants their own Mitchell Robinson. He’s at an 18.0 PER with .568 true shooting, and the rebounding numbers are cartoonish: 27.3 percent on the offensive glass, 26.2 percent on the defensive, nearly 27 percent overall. Ninety-plus percent of his shots come right at the rim, and he hits over 60 percent of them. He cleans up everything.

Defensively, his presence changes how teams attack you. They hesitate at the rim. They think twice on lobs. Guards funnel drives toward him because they trust he’ll be there. You feel that in the game even when you don’t have the tracking data in front of you.

But there’s the other reality: his body keeps betraying the script. The injuries aren’t about effort, they’re not about conditioning, they just keep happening. And for all the love he rightly gets from this fan base, you cannot ignore how fragile it feels to pin your championship ceiling on a guy whose availability has been this volatile.

That’s the real “intrusive thought” buried inside the trade-machine tab. Not “get KAT out of here,” but:

Is there a world where you could upgrade the center spot, keep KAT at the four, and raise your defensive ceiling into the top ten… without blowing up the Nova core in ways you regret for five years?

You may decide the answer is no. But the question is fair.

Nova Knicks, OG, and the cost of any big swing

So what’s actually on the table if you go hunting for that upgrade?

The heart of this team is obvious: Jalen Brunson, Mikal Bridges, Josh Hart, the Nova Knicks, and OG Anunoby sitting right next to them, like a plus-size version of the same DNA.

Mikal is quietly putting together one of the most efficient scoring seasons in the league. He’s at .636 true shooting with 41.6 percent from three and a high three-point attempt rate, all while posting a 18.7 PER and nearly .200 win shares per 48. He’s not hijacking possessions, but every time you need a grown-up shot, he seems to find one. The on/off and impact metrics say he’s helping on both ends; the defensive side just hasn’t fully looked like the Phoenix menace that used to hound stars across 94 feet.

OG’s line doesn’t scream superstardom in the regular season, .601 true shooting, with strong league-adjusted numbers, but you felt what he did to series last year. His steal and block rates are both over three and two percent, respectively, and the advanced defensive metrics love him. He is exactly the kind of player who looks “pretty good” in January and absolutely essential in May.

Josh Hart, meanwhile, might be the best 6'4" rebounder in the sport. He’s sitting on a 15.1 total rebound percentage, which is big-man territory, while still giving you over 23 percent assist rate and a .606 true shooting. He does everything. He’s the connective tissue between the stars and the schemes. Every good team has a guy like Josh Hart. Most of them wish their version was this good.

[Before the mics are hot] Between Brunson, Bridges, OG, and Hart, you already have a wing/guard room that looks suspiciously like what contenders pray for when they close their eyes in June.

And that’s what makes any hypothetical trade so painful. If you’re not touching Brunson and you’re not and you decide KAT is more solution than problem offensively, then the pieces other teams will ask for live in that Nova-plus-OG grouping. It’s easy to say “Mikal’s untouchable” or “OG doesn’t move.” You might be right. It just narrows the paths you have to meaningfully move that defensive rating from 13th into the historical championship sweet spot.

The East isn’t waiting for you

Even if you never see the Oklahoma City Thunder in June, the conference you actually live in is getting tougher quietly and in a way that targets your exact weak spot.

The Detroit Pistons are 17–4, sitting first in the East. They score 118.8 a night (12th in the league) but lock up at a 111.5 defensive rating, second in the NBA. Their net rating is +5.5, sixth overall. This is a young group with a grown defense already. If that offense climbs even one or two spots, you’re dealing with a real problem.

Cleveland is 13–9 and only sixth in the East, but the profile is there: 119.5 points per game (seventh), a top-10 offense at 117.6, and a defense just inside the top 12 at 113.9. The net rating is +3.7. That’s a team that, if health and chemistry snap into place, can stand toe-to-toe with you in a seven-game series.

You can throw Boston and Philly into that mix, too, depending on how you want to stack resumes. The point is: the field is not static. If Detroit is real, and if Cleveland steadies, and if one of those groups makes their own version of the trade you’re daydreaming about, the path to even getting to the finals gets narrower.

And beyond all of that waits OKC, the wagon we just spent a whole blog talking about. I said it there and I still mean it:

“The center of the NBA universe runs through Oklahoma City.”

If that’s true, then every move you make in New York has to be in conversation with that reality. Can this version of the Knicks beat that version of the Thunder four times out of seven? And if not, do you trust this front office enough to touch the Nova core without pulling the city into the Upside Down?

Tinkering with Nova and the Stranger Things problem

This is where the Stranger Things comparison makes a little too much sense.

Right now, the Nova Knicks era feels like Hawkins on a good day. Familiar faces. Shared history. The group chat runs a little too hot, sure, but everybody knows who they are and what they’re playing for. You finally have stability.

The Upside Down shows up when the trade-machine screenshots hit the timeline.

In one timeline, you make the perfect adjustment: you find a sturdier center, keep KAT at the four, and somehow hold on to enough of Mikal, OG, and Hart that the culture stays intact. The offense stays top three, the defense climbs into the top eight, and suddenly you are not just “a tough out,” you are a legitimate title threat.

In the darker version, you outsmart yourself. You ship out one of the guys who quietly makes everything work, whether that’s Mikal’s two-way glue, OG’s playoff gear, or Hart’s do-everything engine and discover, too late, that the version of the Knicks you were trying to upgrade was actually the best version you were going to get.

[Before the mics are hot] That’s the real fear in New York: not that you’ll never be good, but that you’ll be good and impatient at the same time.

So... do you have enough?

Right now, you have:

• A top-three offense with a true number-one in Jalen Brunson.

• A defense hovering just outside the top 10, anchored by a brilliant but fragile center and supported by a switchable wing room.

• A stretch big in KAT who gives you scoring, rebounding, and the exact spacing your star guard needs.

• A Nova-based culture that clearly matters to these guys on and off the floor.

That is not nothing. That is not a fluke. That is not “just happy to be here.”

The question isn’t whether this Knicks team is good. It is. The question is whether “good” quietly becomes the ceiling if you never address the parts of the roster that keep you at 13th in defense while Detroit and Cleveland start creeping up the board.

Does continuity win out? Does the magic of Madison Square Garden, plus another year of reps for this core, turn a 13th-ranked defense into something more in late April? Or is there a move, painful, risky, emotionally expensive, that turns this from a great Nova story into a banner-level roster?

That’s what’s rattling around in my head when I open the trade machine.
Not hate. Not panic. Just the reality of a clock that started when Jalen Brunson became that guy.

You tell me.

Hit us on X at @FrontrunnerPC and @Socially_FRPC and let us know where you land:

Is this the group you want to ride with as-is, or are your own intrusive thoughts telling you something you don’t want to say out loud about the Nova core and the road that runs through both the East… and that wagon out in Oklahoma City?

Boston, you know this song already.

Every other commercial break there’s that hook in the background, “you can get with this, or you can get with that, and it low-key feels like it was written for the 2025-26 Celtics.

On one side, you’ve got the intrusive thought that hit the minute the Jason Tatum Achilles news came out:
slow-play a fall down the standings, grab a blue-chip kid, reopen the window when he’s back in 2026-27.

On the other, you’ve got what the season has actually been:

• 11–9, eighth in the East

• An offense that grades 5th in the league at 119.7 points per 100

• A defense that’s messy by Boston standards (16th at 115.5) but still allows only 110.9 points per game because you walk the ball up like it’s 2004 (30th in pace at 96.0)

• A net rating of +4.2, 11th in the NBA, with no Tatum on the floor

This isn’t a broken roster pretending to be plucky. It’s a retooled group that accidentally proved it’s good.

So now the question for Boston isn’t “are you cooked?”
It’s: which path are you choosing on purpose?

This… or that.

The Profile says “bridge team,” not “bottom out”

It would be a lot easier to argue for a full-blown tank if the Celtics looked like a fake .500 team being held together by vibes and nostalgia. They don’t.

They score 114.9 points a night, which looks average until you remember they play the slowest game in the league. Possession by possession, this is a top-five offense. The spacing, the movement, the shot diet, it’s all still there. And on the other side of the ball, even with the defensive rating slipping to 16th, opponents are only putting up 110.9 per game. You feel the old habits every time they string together three straight stops.

That’s why this 11–9 start felt so surprising. On paper, you’re supposed to be in six-seed purgatory without Tatum. On the floor, you’ve been closer to a dangerous 4–6 seed with a real identity.

This isn’t a team accidentally stumbling into wins. This is system basketball still working with a different lead singer.

Jalen Brown as the solo act

This version of the Celtics lives and dies with Jalen Brown stepping into the full weight of “franchise guy” while his running mate rehabs.

He’s got a 22.3 PER, .578 true shooting, and a 36.4% usage rate. The shot profile is classic Jalen and somehow still growing up, about 72 percent of his attempts are twos, and he’s living all over the midrange while quietly hitting 45.5 percent from three on modest volume. He’s drawing contact (FTr .316), rebounding his position (16.7 defensive rebound rate), and shouldering real playmaking load with an assist percentage north of 25.

This is the version of Brown people always wondered about: can he be the offensive driver, not just the co-star? The answer through 20 games is “yes, mostly… and the work is obvious.” There are still turnovers, still drives into traffic, but the math is honest. You don’t fake that level of usage and efficiency for a quarter of a season.

The backcourt around him has quietly been excellent, too. Payton Pritchard has turned “nice backup” into “real starting guard” numbers, (.587 TS), heavy three-point diet (3PAr .578), and a 21.6 assist rate that says he’s doing more than just bombing. The ball isn’t dying in his hands.

Anfernee Simons, the name you used on the pod as a kind of archetype, is giving you .586 TS on a 23.1 usage rate off the bench, with most of his attempts coming from deep (3PAr .562) but enough midrange and rim pressure to keep him from being a one-note spacer. Derrick White’s efficiency has dipped (.492 TS, 36 percent from the field), but he’s still piling up playmaking and defensive activity, over 21 percent assist rate, steal and block numbers that hold up, and a positive overall impact on most advanced scales.

For a team that lost its best player before the year really got started, that’s not a bad guard/wing core to roll into a season with. That’s a group that can absolutely go into Madison Square Garden on a Tuesday and expect to win.

Joe Mazzulla cannot, will not, does not tank

And then there’s the head coach.

Everything about Joe Mazzulla’s personality points in one direction: if he’s coaching the game, he’s trying to squeeze every ounce of performance out of whoever’s available. Development, to him, happens at full speed. You feel it when he’s barking about box-outs in a 20-point loss. You see it when he yanks a kid after two blown coverages even in a “gap year.”

His religion is simple: shoot a ton of threes, guard like grown men, and if you skip steps you sit down. That’s why this team is 30th in pace but fifth in offensive rating, they’re not out there freelancing. They’re playing the system, slowly, deliberately, and they’re winning their minutes more often than not.

If the front office ever tried to sell a tank, it would look like this: Mazzulla still red-faced about late closeouts while the team “accidentally” wins 38 games anyway. It would be the least stealthy stealth tank in history.

You love that about him.
You just have to account for it when you talk about where you want to land on the “this or that” spectrum.

Brad Stevens, the CBA, and the “this or that” year

This is where the GM lens kicks in.

You have two franchise players on or about to be on, massive supermax deals. Tatum’s contract is going to live north of $60 million per year. Jalen Brown is already hovering in the high 50s. In a second-apron world, that means the only way to build depth without tripping every restriction in the CBA is to stack cheap, productive role players and hang onto your picks like gold.

The good news? You already have the beginnings of that in Minott, Queta, Walsh, Scheierman, Hugo. The question isn’t whether you should burn the house down.

The question is whether you should take this Tatum-less season and:

Get with this:
Treat it like a pure bridge year. Keep White, Pritchard, Simons, the whole group together. Push for a 4–6 seed. Bank real playoff reps for Brown and the kids. Trust that when Tatum walks back in healthy, this exact infrastructure plus a mid-teens pick is enough to go chasing banners again.

Or get with that:
Ease off the gas just a little. Not bottoming out, not throwing games, but being intentional about which vets you ride. Maybe you explore the market for someone like Derrick White is beloved, still really good, but on the wrong side of 30 and heading toward expensive territory. Maybe you look at Simons as a movable salary rather than a long-term lock. Maybe you selectively choose rest days, skew late-season minutes toward the kids, and try to slide from “first-round lock” into “lottery with real odds” for one more premium talent.

Not a franchise-savior, not another number one. A number three. A future Mikal Bridges type. A big you absolutely love in the 5–12 range. The kind of player who could walk in, by the time Tatum’s all the way back and Brown is still in his prime, and be the third head of a three-man monster you grow, not buy.

Brad Stevens knows this playbook. We’ve all watched OKC weaponize it. The Thunder never stopped competing; they just timed when to lean into youth, when to quietly accumulate extra rolls of the dice, and when to cash in.

Boston is staring at a softer version of the same fork in the road.

So, Boston… which reality do you actually want?

If you’re in Coolidge Corner or Roxbury or Waltham right now, double-fisting a Dunkin and reading this on your phone, you probably feel the same push-pull the front office does.

On one hand, you didn’t sign up to watch the Celtics punt seasons. You like that they’re competitive. You like that Joe Mazzulla loses his mind over possessions in November. You like that Jalen Brown is playing like a real number one and that the kids are contributing to wins, not just highlights.

On the other hand, you know what the cap sheet looks like in 2026. You know what a healthy Tatum and Brown cost together. You know how hard it’s going to be to find another high-end starter without either getting very lucky in the draft or trading somebody you love.

There’s no perfect answer here. There’s just a choice.

Do you want this: a bridge-year contender that keeps stacking competitive habits and trusts internal growth to close the gap when Tatum returns?

Or that: a soft, strategic step back, a few tough decisions on vets, and one more swing at adding a high-end, low-cost piece to the core through the draft?

Either way, the fun and the fear, is that this is the first season in a long time where Boston’s decision isn’t about whether they’re good enough.

It’s about what kind of good they want to be when the real window reopens.

You can get with this.
You can get with that.

And if you’re Brad Stevens, you don’t have the luxury of pretending that choice isn’t on the table anymore.

House Lakers, Game of Zones, and the Austin Reaves Succession Question

If Bleacher Report ever brought Game of Zones back, this 2025-26 Lakers team would already have its storyboard pinned to the wall.

You’ve got House Laker, still one of the great dynasties in the realm. You’ve got a new dragon in Luka Dončić torching everything in sight. You’ve got the old king in LeBron James, still dangerous, still sharp, but very much in the late chapters of his saga. And then there’s Austin Reaves, the undrafted guard who somehow woke up sitting much closer to the Iron Throne than anyone planned.

The question in Lakerland right now isn’t just “Can this team win a title?”

It’s: who actually sits second in the pecking order behind Luka in this new era of House Lakers?

Is Reaves really the Hand of the King now?
Or are we getting way too eager to write the last chapter on LeBron?

The box score doesn’t care about your banners

Let’s strip the banners off the ceiling and talk about what’s happening on the floor.

Through the first 20 games, the Lakers are 15–5, sitting second in the West with a top-6 offense (119.5 offensive rating) and a defense that’s… let’s just call it “work in progress” (116.2, 17th). They score 119 a night, give up almost 116, and live in that +3.2 net rating zone where your stars have to carry you across the finish line every night.

Those stars, by the numbers:

• Luka Dončić (26) – 35.3 PTS, 22.9 FGA, 37.9% usage, .627 TS

• Austin Reaves (27) – 28.1 PTS, 16.6 FGA, 28.2% usage, .680 TS

• LeBron James (41) – 15.2 PTS, 12.6 FGA, 22.2% usage, .529 TS

This isn’t a vibe check. This is the offensive hierarchy laid out in ink.

Luka is the unquestioned king: almost 23 shots a night, a usage pushing 38, and efficiency that shouldn’t even be legal at that workload. That’s your dragon.

But look at the rest of the rotation. Reaves takes more shots than LeBron, Ayton, or Rui. He lives in true second-star usage. And he’s scoring almost twice as many points per game as LeBron. The gap between Reaves and LeBron (about 13 points) is nearly double the gap between Luka and Reaves.

If you were watching this season as a Game of Zones episode with no names on the jerseys, you’d see one main character, one emerging co-star, and one legendary figure sliding into a more selective role.

The credits would read: Starring Luka. Co-starring Reaves. Featuring LeBron. Disrespectful towards the All Time Leading scorer in the NBA!

[Before the mics are hot] At some point, “undrafted” stops being a plot twist and starts being a prequel. What matters is who’s carrying episodes now.

Austin Reaves: from background character to Hand of the King

Reaves arc is the part that feels most like premium HBO writing.

He started this story as the guy just trying to stay on the roster. Two-way deal, fight for minutes, do the dirty work next to LeBron and AD. Somewhere along the way, the role flipped. He got a real contract, a shoe deal, a Team USA cameo, and now the keys to the offense when Luka bends the floor.

This season he’s at 28.1 points and 6.6 assists on a ridiculous .680 true shooting with 28.2% usage. That’s not “scrappy role player” math. That’s “we built part of the offense around you” math.

The shot profile looks like a guy who knows exactly who he is:

• More than half his attempts coming inside the arc, living in that in-between space where he can decelerate, draw contact, and manipulate angles.

• Efficient enough from three (around 41.7%) that you can’t duck under screens or cheat off him in space.

• Living at the line with free throws and converting them at .883 like every trip is a quiz he already studied for.

On top of that, he’s functioning as a true secondary creator. Luka calls the set and draws two. Once that double hits, Reaves becomes the Hand of the King: picking apart 4-on-3s, hitting Ayton on dives, finding Rui in the corners, snaking into that floater zone when the defense scrambles too hard.

He’s averaging 6.6 assists with an assist percentage near 28 in an offense that already has Luka and LeBron on the ball. That’s the job description of a modern No. 2: not just scoring, but reliably turning your primary’s gravity into easy offense for everybody else.

On Game of Zones, this is the episode where the upstart guard gets a new cloak and his own throne-side chair. Not because of prophecy. Because the whole realm can see he’s doing the job.

LeBron’s new role: the old lion on the small council

Now we get to the part that makes people uncomfortable: LeBron’s place in all this.

The résumé is untouchable. Four rings, the all-time scoring record, more big-game tape than an entire streaming service could host. But this season’s early numbers tell you he’s finally settling into a different seat at the table.

Five games in, he’s putting up 15.2 points and 7.2 assists on .529 true shooting with a 22.2% usage rate. The shot diet has shifted: fewer attacks straight through chests, more jumpers, more “pick the right pass and live to fight the next possession” possessions.

He’s still capable of seizing an episode. He’s still one of the smartest players to ever touch the court. But if we’re being honest, he looks more like the Hand who’s held the throne before than the guy who needs to wear the crown every night.

That doesn’t have to be disrespect. In Game of Thrones terms, this is Tywin Lannister energy: the older lion whose presence, intellect, and occasional show of force still shape the realm, without asking him to fight in every battle.

The version of this Lakers team that scares everyone isn’t the one where LeBron fights Reaves for touches and shots into April. It’s the one where he leans all the way into being the nastiest No. 3 in basketball:

• Seventeen-ish points.

• Eleven rebounds.

• Seven assists.

• A defense built around the idea that a 6'9", 250-pound genius is freelancing behind your schemes instead of carrying your usage.

If House Lakers can get that version of LeBron, calling Reaves the second option isn’t a coup. It’s good governance.

So... are we putting LeBron in the crypt or just updating the seating chart?

This is where the Thrones/Game of Zones analogy really matters.

No one’s burying LeBron next to the old kings. He’s still on the board. He’s still impact, gravity, and leadership all wrapped into one person. But a smart house doesn’t let nostalgia write its depth chart.

Right now:

• Luka is your unquestioned ruler.

• Austin Reaves is playing like the Hand of the King, second in shots, second in usage, second in playmaking, first in efficiency among the stars.

• LeBron looks like the overqualified council member who can still swing a battle when he decides it’s time, but shouldn’t be asked to wage every war like he did at 28.

From a front-office lens, the most responsible move isn’t to trade Reaves for “some guy” because it feels cleaner to leave LeBron labeled as No. 2. If you’re moving Reaves, it has to be for a true all-world wing in his mid-20s, not just a name.

Otherwise, in a second-apron world, you already have the thing everyone else is trying to draft or trade for: a max-level second option you’re not paying like a max second option yet, who can coexist with multiple superstar archetypes.

The realm is telling you who the succession line is. The question is whether House Lakers listens.

The Suns episode: when the cracks in the wall showed

Of course, no season-long arc comes without its bottle episode of horror.

The Suns loss was that moment for this group. On the surface, it’s one game in December. Underneath, it exposed the structural weaknesses:

• 22 turnovers, leading to 32 Phoenix points.

• A 28–13 fastbreak explosion in spirit, with the Suns flying every time a pass got picked.

• 56 points in the paint allowed on a night when Phoenix played without Devin Booker for most of the game.

• Twelve more field goal attempts surrendered (92–80), which is what happens when you never finish your possessions properly.

It wasn’t just that role players on the other side went nuclear. It’s that the Lakers played like a team that still isn’t sure how to protect itself when the stars are a little off and the pace spikes.

Against New Orleans’ skeleton crew, everything looked like the script: Reaves detonated for 33 and 8 on elite efficiency, Luka controlled the tempo, and the role guys walked through open doors.

Against Phoenix, every turnover was a dragon flying the wrong way. Every slow defensive transition was a gate left open. That’s what a 17th-ranked defense and a middle-of-the-pack net rating look like when they meet a team that runs hard and doesn’t care about your names.

The Suns didn’t rewrite the story. They just made it impossible to ignore this part of it: if turnovers and transition defense keep leaking points, the margin for error gets tiny. And when the margin is tiny, you can’t waste shots trying to protect feelings.

You have to give the ball to the guys who bend the game first—Luka and Reaves—and let the old lion pick his spots around that.

The real question for Lakers fans

So here’s where we land.

If this season got the full Game of Zones treatment, the final scene of the Lakers arc wouldn’t be a funeral for LeBron. It would be a council meeting.

Luka at the head of the table.
Reaves sitting to his right, quill and sword ready.
LeBron just to the left, amused, a little annoyed, but fully aware that his mind and his presence still move the room.

The question isn’t, “Is it disrespectful to call Austin Reaves the No. 2?”

The question is:

Do you want the version of this team that looks right on a poster…
or the version that actually gives you the best chance in a seven-game series?

Because the box scores, the usage, and the film are already chanting the same thing in the background:

Luka. Reaves. LeBron. What is best for the realm? Bron or Reaves as the number 2?

In that order.

If you’re riding with House Laker this season, you don’t have to love how that sounds.
You just have to decide whether you’re ready to admit it’s already happening.