They weren’t supposed to be the story. Not in a Game 7 loaded with stars, pressure, and playoff scars. Everyone was watching Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, the young king stepping into his throne. Jokic, the three-time MVP trying to defend his mountain. But somehow, in the middle of all that noise, two names snuck into the frame; quiet, unnoticed, until they dropped a hammer on the defending champs.

OKC walked into this win-or-go-home showdown with youth on their side. But experience, not talent, usually decides these. And early on, Denver threw the first punch. Up 21–10 in the opening frame, the Nuggets smelled blood. But then… a spark. A swing. And suddenly, the Thunder didn’t just respond; they swallowed the game whole. A 39–20 second quarter flipped everything. But the craziest part? It wasn’t SGA or Jalen Williams driving that run. It was them. The unlikeliest duo in the building.

Enter Alex Caruso and Cason Wallace. The defensive demons behind Denver’s unraveling. Yup. That’s who turned a tough series into a horror movie for Jokic and now, a real nightmare for Anthony Edwards and the Wolves. Caruso, the vet with a chip and no chill, and Wallace, the rookie with bounce and bite. Together? They wrecked Denver’s rhythm.

Bill Simmons said it best on his podcast: “But that Caruso-Wallace combo, which I think is gonna be a real problem for Minnesota, too.” He’s not exaggerating. Wallace was everywhere; flying around screens, detonating on fast breaks, and oh yeah, posterizing Nikola Jokic with a vicious dunk that pushed OKC to a 78–57 lead and had the entire arena losing its mind. Caruso? Man, he straight-up bodied Jokic. Fronting him, hugging him, picking his pocket, and starting fast-breaks with no mercy.

Now this is where things get weird. Russell Westbrook, the ex-OKC icon, was on the other side in Denver colors, trying to give the Nuggets bench a spark. Instead? He ended up a -34 in just 21 minutes. Wallace and Caruso outscored Denver’s entire bench by themselves. And that dunk on Jokic? That wasn’t just a highlight, it was a message.

Simmons even said it plain: “I guess Caruso guarding Jokic, I feel like it’s a slight hit for the Jokic legacy that Caruso was able to do that.” And he’s got a point. Jokic finished with 20–9–7, but he turned the ball over five times and couldn’t deal with OKC’s small-ball switch-up. The same player who made AD look mortal, getting fronted by Caruso and flustered into bad passes. That’s going to stick.

And yet… there’s more. Because this isn’t just about defense or dunks. This is about who’s coming next: Minnesota. Anthony Edwards. A team riding just as high. But now, they’ve got to deal with this, a duo no one prepared for. You stop SGA? Cool. J-Dub? Sure. But Wallace and Caruso? If they’re going to play like this again, it might not matter what Ant-Man does.

“He don’t give a damn”: Jokic shrugs off NBA heat like it’s nothing

Game 7 felt cursed before it even tipped. One team blazing, the other barely holding together, and somehow, everything played out exactly how fans feared. Because 54 minutes before the game ended, the NBA’s own playoff graphic on Facebook showed Shai Gilgeous-Alexander alongside Anthony Edwards, Brunson, and Haliburton. Jokic? Nowhere. Almost like the league knew. Like they chose.

But that wasn’t all. The same referee crew that called Game 2. Scott Foster, Josh Tiven, James Williams, and Pat Fraher; was reassigned to Game 7. Fans saw it coming. And so did Jokic. In his postgame, he calmly said, “I mean this game was basically similar to second game… two same officials as the second game, so it’s kind of similar.” That’s not just reflection. That’s confirmation. Even Jokic knew the deck felt stacked.

And the thing is, Simmons had his back. “To defend Jokic, which I have to because I love Jokic; I really did feel like they were getting away with a lot with how they were pounding him physically. Which they should have, because they were getting away with it all series.” It’s wild when Bill Simmons starts pointing fingers. But he’s right; OKC hit Jokic with a full-court press, literally and figuratively. The officiating let physicality go unchecked, and the Nuggets crumbled under it.

Scott Foster’s reputation as “The Extender” wasn’t just a meme anymore. It became prophecy. And with every whistle, every missed call, that prophecy got louder. Jokic knew. Fans knew. Now? The NBA can’t pretend they don’t. And the Thunder? They didn’t just win. They surged into the conference finals, while Denver unraveled. Edwards and the Timberwolves better hope history doesn’t repeat. Because if Wallace and Caruso show up again? That legacy Jokic fought for might not be the only one taking hits.