There’s a storm brewing in the Western Conference Finals, and it has nothing to do with Oklahoma’s unpredictable spring weather. The Timberwolves are down bad, the Thunder are rolling, and a certain someone, known for yelling on TV with the passion of a preacher and the volume of a malfunctioning fire alarm, has something very specific to say about it all. So, buckle in. This isn’t just another playoff recap; this one’s got drama, data, and a whole lot of Julius Randle.

Let’s set the scene. The Minnesota Timberwolves are trailing the Oklahoma City Thunder 3-1 in the Western Conference Finals. Game 4? Pain. Anthony Edwards and Julius Randle combined for 21 points, less than what a locked-in Duncan Robinson could do blindfolded. Edwards finished with 16 on 5-of-13 shooting, and Randle had… let’s just say, a shooting night so cold it had frostbite. 1-of-7 from the field for just 5 points. That’s not just a slump—that’s a full-blown shooting recession.

And now, with elimination staring them dead in the eyes like Tim Duncan in a clutch free-throw moment, the Timberwolves have to win three straight. In other words, they need a miracle—and maybe a new game plan.

Enter Stephen A. Smith. You already know that when this man starts a sentence with “My lord,” it’s about to get real. Before Game 5, he delivered a sermon directly aimed at Julius Randle’s basketball soul. “Shoot the three or be in the paint and play bully ball… Stop putting the ball on the floor… Everybody knows you’re going left. They’re just going to wait for you. Don’t do it.”

This wasn’t an analysis. This was a passionate intervention. It’s as if Stephen A. was trying to save Randle from himself, like Obi-Wan trying to stop Anakin from going full Sith. And honestly? He’s not wrong. Randle’s dribble drives have become so predictable, defenders are probably setting their clocks by them. It’s 8:15? Oh yeah, Randle’s going left again.

From Gotham to the North Star

Let’s rewind. Randle was traded from the New York Knicks to the Timberwolves in midseason—a move that shocked Knicks fans and delighted Minnesota’s faithful. Since arriving, he’s been on a redemption arc that would make any anime protagonist proud.

In the Western Conference Semifinals against the Warriors, Randle was lights-out. Game 3? Triple-double: 24 points, 10 boards, 12 assists. First Timberwolves playoff triple-double since Kevin Garnett. Game 4? Playoff career-high 31 points. Over the last 4 games of that series? Averaged 27 points, 7.8 assists, 7.5 rebounds. That’s a box score buffet.

But then came OKC. Game 1: Strong start with 28 points, game 3: A 24-point bounce-back in the franchise’s highest-scoring playoff game ever (143–101). And game 4: Fell back to Earth with just 5 points. Like a Space Jam Monstar stole his powers overnight.

Here’s the thing—Randle isn’t the alpha dog in Minnesota. That title belongs to Anthony Edwards, whose swag is so strong he probably wakes up in ice baths. Randle’s role has evolved. He’s no longer the guy who has to take 25 shots a night. In fact, head coach Chris Finch has simplified things: pass, shoot, or drive within 3 seconds. No dribbling contests. No solo dance moves. Just hoops.

But this is playoff basketball. And as much as the numbers matter, so does presence. Julius Randle needs to stop hesitating and start hammering. Use that 250-pound frame like a fully-charged Zion Williamson in NBA 2K. SAS’s comments are clear — it’s time for some basketball barbarism.

If Minnesota doesn’t steal one in OKC, their playoff dreams go poof like the Suns’ chemistry after a big trade. The Thunder are averaging 115.3 PPG in the series, and Jaden McDaniels even admitted they’re letting OKC “control the early momentum.” That’s like letting Steph Curry heat up in the first quarter—you’re just asking for pain.

Veterans like Mike Conley have called for stronger starts. The defense needs a revival, but so does Randle. He can’t be the guy who shows up with 5 points when the lights are the brightest. He’s gotta be the player who bullied the Warriors, not the guy getting clamped by the Thunder’s long wings like it’s the opening round of “America’s Got Lockdown Defense.”

Stephen A. may yell a lot, but sometimes, the man spits gospel. Julius Randle has the size, the skill, and the smarts to turn this series around. He just has to stop trying to be Kyrie Irving with the handle and embrace being Karl Malone with the grit. If he does, Minnesota might just live to fight another day.

So here’s hoping Randle’s next performance doesn’t make Stephen A. start another segment with, “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.” Because at this stage, disappointment would be far worse than defeat.