If you turned on Game 5 hoping to see a defiant Timberwolves squad storm into Oklahoma City like they were auditioning for the next “Last Dance” documentary, let us save you the heartbreak: the only thing dancing were the Thunder fans in the stands. What unfolded at Paycom Center was less of a Western Conference Finals clash and more of a basketball clinic hosted by Shai Gilgeous-Alexander and the OKC defense, with Julius Randle awkwardly wandering around like he took a wrong turn into the arena.

This wasn’t just a loss. It was an unraveling. A collapse. A “someone unplug the controller” moment. The Timberwolves—trailing 3-1 in the series and fighting for their season—showed up flatter than a deflated Wilson Evolution. The final nail? A first quarter so ugly it might’ve set basketball back to the peach basket era.

The Timberwolves opened the game like they had just been told defense was optional. The Thunder got out to a 26–9 lead in the first quarter, limiting Minnesota to just three made field goals and four turnovers. To be clear, that’s more turnovers than buckets. By the time halftime rolled around, the score was 65–32, and unless your name is Scott Foster with a whistle, there was no coming back from that.

Julius Randle—who was supposed to be the veteran presence, the playoff-experienced steadying force—looked like he’d downloaded the wrong pregame update. Three points in the first quarter, on 1-of-4 shooting, and virtually invisible thereafter. Anthony Edwards, trying to shoulder the load, could only do so much, scoring six in the opening quarter and watching helplessly as the rest of the team combined for just three more. Not since that one season where the Lakers thought Smush Parker was a long-term solution have we seen offensive execution this disastrous.

Chris Finch got a technical trying to spark something, anything. But OKC wasn’t interested in drama—they were there to take names, punch tickets, and head to their first NBA Finals since 2012. With Shai putting up 20 in 19 minutes and Chet Holmgren throwing down dunks like he’s trying to make a Top Shot comeback, the Timberwolves looked like they forgot this was an elimination game.

Fan reactions pour in — and so does the sarcasm

“Julius Randle can be a scorer, but he’s just not that good of an all-around basketball player. Neither is Naz Reid. Until Anthony Edwards gets anything close to a running mate, this team is going nowhere. To me, Edwards and McDaniels are the only players that are untouchable.” Let’s just say this one hit with the precision of a Steph Curry heat check. Randle’s Game 4 was a disaster: five points, 1-of-7 shooting, and one lonely assist. In a playoff series where every possession matters, Randle’s all-around contributions have been more mythical than real. When the Timberwolves needed a wingman for Edwards, Randle decided to cosplay as a ghost.

“Julius Randle still being allowed on the court is coaching disaster. Chris Finch one of the more stagnant coaches in the league.” Hard to argue. In Game 2 and Game 4, Randle combined for 11 points. Eleven. That’s the number of points Nick Young used to score before he celebrated mid-three. And yet, Coach Finch kept him out there like he was prime Dirk. The criticism isn’t just about Randle, it’s about Finch’s stubbornness—why keep forcing square pegs into round rotations?

“Julius Randle actually contributed to this game.” Okay, this one’s laced with some Grade A sarcasm. It’s probably referencing his Game 3 showing—a solid 24-point night during a 143–101 blowout. But that felt like an oasis in a playoff desert. In Games 2 and 4, he was about as helpful as an expired Gatorade. Consistency? Not even close. And that’s the issue—he has the tools, but the toolbox only opens once every three games.

“The Old Julius Randle would’ve shot this anyway. The new Julius Randle…. shot this anyway.” Nothing like a self-own disguised as evolution. All the chatter about Randle adapting to the Timberwolves’ system, taking smarter shots, and moving the ball quicker? Apparently, none of that made it past the pregame interviews. In Game 4, the shot selection was straight out of a 2017 Knicks rerun—long twos, forced isos, and those lefty drives that defenders are practically selling popcorn for at this point.

With this Game 5 implosion, the Timberwolves’ fairytale run has morphed into a cautionary tale. No matter how stacked your defense is, if your offense is shooting 12-for-39 from the field and scoring 62.7 points per 100 possessions, you’re not just going to lose—you’re going to get run off the court. And that’s what happened. This wasn’t a chess match; this was OKC playing speed checkers while Minnesota tried to solve a Rubik’s cube blindfolded.

Only 13 teams have ever come back from a 3-1 series deficit. The Timberwolves clearly won’t be number 14. Their 2025 postseason will be remembered for Anthony Edwards’ ascension and… well, the Julius Randle mystery saga. One game he’s channeling Playoff Jimmy, the next he’s bricking like it’s Home Depot’s Black Friday sale.

It’s unfair to pin everything on Julius Randle, but that doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. This series exposed the limits of Minnesota’s depth and the volatility of banking on a player still figuring out who he is in May. Randle’s highs were momentary. His lows? Season-ending.

Now, OKC’s marching to the Finals with a squad full of firepower, youth, and balance. Minnesota, meanwhile, heads into the offseason with a stack of “what ifs” and one particularly loud one involving Randle’s role moving forward.

As for Randle himself, well, Game 5 might not have been a rude awakening. It might’ve just been reality knocking.