SAN ANTONIO — Victor Wembanyama walked off the Frost Bank Center court sporting something every great player eventually wears.
Not the glow of heroism. Not a defining moment of glory.
But a wound.
Wembanyama’s was fresh and gaping by the end of the night Friday. A colossal gaffe. A jumper too strong. A defeat sure to burrow into his psyche.
The anointed one didn’t just lose Game 2 of the NBA Finals, but was the conductor of the Spurs’ crushing defeat, a 105-104 loss that ties their championship hopes to the tracks of a New York subway. And the hubris driving Wemby to become the face of modern basketball crashed into the inevitable humbling of superstardom.
“Am I going to regret it?” Wembanyama asked aloud. “Yes, of course. Am I going to use that to fuel me and to fuel us next game? Absolutely.”
Wembanyama proved his viability by lifting the Spurs to these NBA Finals in his first postseason. But even at home, he couldn’t fully scale the wall he seems to have crashed into. Couldn’t thwart the mojo of New York.
Now his Spurs face an upset of historic proportions, down 2-0 and heading on the road to an arena with an unsettling mystique and with an atmosphere that rattles its guests. And it makes perfect sense.
Because the road to being legendary is paved with hard lessons and heartbreaks. Karl-Anthony Towns and these Knicks are proving to be qualified and willing teachers to Wembanyama. The young must learn.
The Eastern Conference champions’ penchant for comebacks and late-game brilliance heaps pressure on opponents. New York’s spread-out attack and variety of options are certainly measuring Wembanyama’s stamina, his consistency, his poise.
And this has come after Towns outplayed Wembanyama through the first three quarters of both games, schooling Wemby like an uncle would a talented nephew.
Unlike OKC’s Chet Holmgren in the Western Conference finals, and Minnesota’s Julius Randle in the series before that, Towns approaches the matchup certain he’s better than Wembanyama. Towns said it even, caught on camera in 4K.
A motivated, confident Towns represents a much larger challenge. He might not be a household name. He lives well outside of MVP conversations, and it took 11 seasons for him to make the league’s biggest stage. However, everyone who laces ‘em up knows Towns can destroy any foe on any night. He has off-the-charts talent and more than a decade of experience. Towns came into this series determined to highlight the expanse between potential and proven.
Through two games, he has more rebounds (25) and assists (eight) than Wembanyama (21 and four). Towns has also been a more efficient scorer with 39 total points on 55.5 percent shooting, compared with Wemby’s 55 points on 40.1 percent shooting.
Towns’ defense on Wembanyama has been a revelation. He’s conceding the 3-pointer to Wemby — who is 4 of 15 — and backing off to thwart the Knicks’ pick-and-roll scheme. Towns goes under the screen and reattaches with Wemby, keeping his chest in the path of the Spurs’ center. The intentional gap also takes away Wembanyama’s first step, giving Towns time to recover on drives. And when Wemby decides to attack the rim, the Knicks make sure he feels them.
So Towns, a player not regarded for exceptional toughness, has been testing the thickness of Wemby’s resolve.
It looked solid in the second half of Game 2. Wembanyama, finally, came alive after taking four shots in the first half. He took 17 in the second half, scoring 22 points. His driving layup over Towns, plus the foul, gave the Spurs a 104-102 lead with a little less than a minute remaining. Wembanyama had come alive enough that Knicks coach Mike Brown turned to specialist center Mitchell Robinson to defend Wemby.
The Frenchman seemed headed for his latest declarative statement. But greatness gets crafted with unexpected ingredients. With mistakes that force reflection. With weaknesses preyed on by opponents. With failures that raise questions, and questions that prompt reflection.
They stir in Wembanyama now. The baseline jumper he settled for over Robinson with 30.3 seconds remaining. The outlet pass he threw to Stephon Castle’s back, the most untimely turnover of his career.
“That’s the most frustrating thing,” Wemby said. “To throw it away. After all that work.”
He later added: “I threw that one away. I messed up.”
He had a chance for redemption, down a point with 7.5 seconds remaining. Wembanyama ran a pick-and-pop with Fox that led to an open look from just above the right elbow of the paint, before Robinson’s 7-foot, 240-pound frame could eclipse the view of the rim. Wemby pulled it without a dribble. He settled for the clean jumper over the coarse drive.
And when it missed, he bit his fist. Then, untucked his jersey and walked off the floor, frustration on his face.
“Yeah, of course I liked the shot,” Wembanyama said. “I feel like at this moment you need to shoot to score. In moments like this, results matter more than process. We just needed to score. I just needed to score.
“That’s the whole point.”
None of the all-timers have avoided what’s now assuredly gnawing at Wembanyama. Before they were mentioned among the greatest of all time, they spent long nights as a goat.
Magic Johnson. Michael Jordan. Kobe Bryant. LeBron James. All of them. Hidden in their careers, filled with championships and triumph, are games they won’t forget. Possessions they replayed while staring at the ceiling. Summers spent working away flaws that emerged in suboptimal moments. They became who they became because failure refused to leave them alone.
Wembanyama has lived most of his basketball life as a phenomenon. A marvel. A basketball extraterrestrial. He has been spoken about in the future tense since he was a teenager. But basketball doesn’t care about prophecy — only possessions, execution and performance.
Maybe that’s the real purpose of Game 2 for Wembanyama. For failure to reveal what he needs. To strip away the comforting illusion that talent alone is enough. To remind the 22-year-old he still has work to do.
No one will remember the valiant response he made in the second half. The box score won’t explain how fatigued he looked, uninspired even, until he didn’t. History chisels massive games into its most memorable moments, and sometimes those are unforgiving.
Game 2 will be remembered for Wembanyama’s shortcomings. And when the cameras left and the consuming roar of Knicks fans faded, he had to sit with the reality of his rare futility. He will replay them in his mind because the best are wired that way. And if his career becomes what so many believe, the memories from this clash with the Knicks won’t disappear. They will travel with him.
Because the players who change the game are never spared from agony. They learn how to carry it. They make sure the disappointment sharpens instead of softens.
The heartbreak of a night like this doesn’t guarantee greatness, but the greatness Wembanyama pursues guarantees heartbreak.
And as the series shifts to Madison Square Garden, and with the Knicks still due for a peak performance, his biggest heartbreak might still be on the way.
