The Minnesota Timberwolves did something impressive in Game 1: they made Nikola Jokić work. Rudy Gobert shadowed the three-time MVP with tenacity, forcing him into contested touches and limiting his usual rhythm. For stretches, the Wolves’ anchor appeared to have Jokić in check.
Denver, however, will take that trade every night. While Gobert contained the superstar, Jokić responded by dragging him away from the rim, neutralizing Minnesota’s elite rim protection and cracking open driving lanes for the rest of the Nuggets’ attack. The Wolves survived thanks in part to uncharacteristically poor shooting from Denver. That formula, head coach Chris Finch knows, is not a sustainable path to victory—especially not in a series where falling to 0-2 would be catastrophic.
The problem is structural. Minnesota no longer has the perfect Jokić antidote it once possessed in Karl-Anthony Towns. With Towns now wearing a Knicks uniform, neither Julius Randle nor Naz Reid possesses the blend of size, mobility, and basketball IQ required to harass the Joker without collapsing the defense behind him. The Wolves need Gobert back at the rim, dominating the paint, rather than chasing Jokić into the mid-range and three-point line. To achieve that, Finch may have to reach into an unconventional—and seemingly forgotten—part of his roster.
Enter Kyle Anderson.
Quietly, almost invisibly, “Slo-Mo” has become the Timberwolves’ hidden dagger. At an age when many wings are slowing down, Anderson has carved out value in small-ball lineups as a de facto five. His minutes have been brief, but the defensive impact has been outsized—especially when paired with Gobert. The two bigs together create a layered, suffocating defense that few offenses can solve on the fly.
Anderson’s game is an odd, almost hypnotic blend of size, strength, deceptive athleticism, and elite basketball intelligence. He does not overpower opponents with flash or athleticism; he frustrates them with positioning, timing, and a methodical patience that feels tailor-made for Nikola Jokić. Nobody expects Anderson to “shut down” the MVP. That is not the assignment. The goal is more subtle: make Jokić hesitate, force him to expend extra energy on every possession, and ultimately provoke him into the kind of brute-force takeover that plays directly into Minnesota’s hands.
Because while Jokić is hunting, Rudy Gobert will be waiting at the rim like a coiled spring.
It is a high-risk, high-reward adjustment. On paper, it looks desperate. In practice, it could be the very disruption Denver least expects. The Nuggets have grown accustomed to attacking a drop-coverage big or a traditional power forward. They have not yet faced a 6-foot-9, 230-pound chess piece who moves like a slow-motion wrecking ball—smart enough to stay in front, strong enough to absorb contact, and disciplined enough to funnel everything back toward the help.
Anderson played just seven minutes in Game 1. He posted a neutral net rating in a contest his team lost by 11. Most observers barely noticed him. That anonymity is exactly why Finch can deploy him as a surprise weapon. If the Timberwolves roll out Slo-Mo as a primary Jokić defender early in Game 2, the Nuggets will be forced into an unfamiliar rhythm—precisely the kind of discomfort that can rattle even the most unflappable offense in the league.
Will it work? Maybe not. It could backfire and hand Denver easy switches or open threes. But the alternative—relying on the same Gobert-Jokić chess match that Denver has already solved—is a slower death. With the series on the line before it has truly begun, the Wolves are reaching deep into their bag of tricks.