It’s a strange thing to see Andrew Nembhard and Chet Holmgren on opposite sides of the NBA Finals. Both are thriving in their post-Gonzaga careers—Nembhard averaging 14.6 points and 6.8 assists this postseason with a 3.1 assist-to-turnover ratio, Holmgren posting 12.4 points, 7.8 rebounds, and 2.3 blocks while shooting 53% from the field. They look like the players Zag fans believed they would eventually become.
But it’s also a slightly painful reminder of just how good that 2021–22 Gonzaga team really was. Holmgren, Nembhard, Drew Timme, Julian Strawther, Rasir Bolton, Hunter Sallis, Anton Watson, and Nolan Hickman finished the regular season 26–3, ranked No. 1 in the AP Poll, and led the country in points per game. Then came the Sweet 16 and one of the most gut-wrenching tournament losses in program history: Arkansas. Eric Musselman. Jaylin Williams. Foul trouble. Trainwreck.
I recently rewatched that whole Sweet 16 showdown for this article, which probably qualifies as a new kind of psychological derangement. It was as excruciating as I remembered—like volunteering for that weird ancient execution method where they tie you down and let bamboo shoots grow through your body over several days. Instead of dying, you’re forced to watch Arkansas’ JD Notae go 9-of-29 and still be the best player on the floor in a game that prematurely ends one of the most promising seasons in program history.
The whole thing was ugly. The officiating, the shot selection, the turnovers, the pace, the environment—everything. And by the time Holmgren fouled out with 3:29 left to play, the game was already slipping. When the final buzzer sounded, Arkansas had somehow pulled off the upset: 74–68.
Gonzaga shot just 37.5% from the field against Arkansas (24-for-64), 23.8% from three (5-for-21), and committed 15 turnovers (compared to 8 for Arkansas). Andrew Nembhard, who averaged 11.8 points and 5.8 assists on 45% shooting that season, scored 7 points on 2-of-11 shooting with a season-high five turnovers. Holmgren finished with 11 points, 14 rebounds, and 2 blocks—but only took nine shots and played just 23 minutes before fouling out.
Arkansas’ plan was clear: target Holmgren in the paint and pressure Nembhard full court. It worked. The Zags scored just 28 points in the first half, 11 below their season average. The pace slowed to a crawl, and Arkansas turned the game into a wrestling match Gonzaga wasn’t built for.
Arkansas’ 6’10” center, Jaylin Williams, put up 15 points, 12 rebounds, and drew his 45th charge of the season. He defended Holmgren, walled off Timme, and initiated contact on nearly every drive. Williams was everywhere—hedging high, boxing out, taking hits. It was one of the most dominant defensive performances of the tournament. Now, he plays 10 minutes a game off the bench for the Thunder, sets screens, hits the occasional corner three, and mostly stays out of the way. But in that Sweet 16, he played like the second coming of Ben Wallace with a jump shot. He was one of many reasons Gonzaga couldn’t get anything easy.
Watching the 2025 NBA Finals brings all of it back. In Game 3, Indiana outscored Oklahoma City 32–18 in the fourth quarter, held the Thunder to 38.7% shooting overall, and allowed just 10 paint points in the second half. Holmgren scored 20, but 13 came in the first quarter. From there, Indiana’s defensive strategy—built around Myles Turner’s size and physicality—ground him down.
They doubled early, bodied late, and relied on the refs to swallow their whistles. And they did. As the Pacers stormed back in the fourth, two things became clear: 1) Oklahoma City looked absolutely exhausted, and 2) Musselman’s strategy for dismantling the most efficient offense in college basketball might still work at the next level.
Most expected Holmgren to thrive in the NBA, but it’s Nembhard’s rise—his poise, his otherworldly defensive stopping power, his ability to control games—that forces Zag fans to reexamine his final college game through a different lens. That loss to Arkansas didn’t require brilliance, but it required stability. Someone to settle the offense, slow the pace, and guide the team through the storm.
Instead, Nembhard was bottled up, neutralized, bullied off his spots, and run ragged. Holmgren got buried in the paint and saddled with calls that still don’t make sense on replay. And just like that, Gonzaga’s season was over.
Now, the same fault lines are showing up again—only this time, from opposite ends of the floor.
Three games in, the NBA Finals feel balanced but brittle. Indiana leads 2–1, but both teams have a path.
For Oklahoma City to even the series, they have to protect Holmgren—not just from foul trouble, but from being neutralized altogether. His ability to space the floor, seal deep, and block shots without fouling is essential to OKC’s halfcourt offense. When he disappears, so does their rhythm.
Indiana’s formula is simpler: win the margins. They’re outscoring OKC 42–26 in second-chance points through three games and have a +19 rebounding margin. They’ve turned the Finals into a possession battle. When they slow the pace and let Nembhard orchestrate, they grind out wins, even without shooting lights-out. They’ve shot under 33% from three in two of the three games and still came away with wins. It’s eerily reminiscent of what Arkansas did in 2022: don’t outscore the opponent, outlast them.
For Nembhard, this run is vindication. He’s become a surgical late-game decision-maker. For Holmgren, it’s a proving ground. He’s no longer the protected freshman buffered by veterans. He’s the linchpin. He has to be durable, assertive, and ready to take hits. In last night’s fourth quarter, he looked anything but durable in the low post.
For Zag fans, it’s complicated—but not bleak. As frustrating as that Arkansas loss was, this Finals is proof that the talent was real, the hype was earned, and the story isn’t over. These guys didn’t peak in college. They leveled up. And now they’re starring on the biggest stage in basketball, going head-to-head in the kind of series that shapes legacies.
The 2022 run ended in heartbreak. That’s locked in. But seeing Nembhard and Holmgren shine now, starting in the NBA Finals, pushing each other every game, feels like a bonus chapter you didn’t expect. It’s not closure. It doesn’t fix what happened. But it’s something. A bit of redemption, maybe. The kind of sports give you in strange, roundabout ways, long after you stopped looking for it.
Whether the ring ends up on Nembhard’s hand or Holmgren’s, one thing’s clear: the Zags didn’t fade. Gonzaga’s had champions before—Morrison with the Lakers, Austin Daye with the Spurs—but those were bench guys on deep rosters. This is different. This is two former Zags playing heavy minutes in the NBA Finals, shaping the series on both ends. Whoever comes out on top won’t just win a title, they’ll be the first Zag to do it as a core piece of the team that got it done.
Which makes it easier, in the end, to stop asking what went wrong in 2022—and start appreciating what came next.
