It was a night that will haunt the Minnesota Timberwolves for weeks to come. The kind of loss that sticks in your craw, a bitter taste that no amount of mouthwash can rinse away. In the heart of Sacramento, inside the Golden 1 Center, the Timberwolves didn’t just lose a game; they experienced a full-blown, gut-wrenching collapse, falling 117-112 in overtime to the Kings.
This wasn’t just any loss. It was déjà vu of the cruelest kind. Just days after fumbling away an eight-point lead in the final minute against Phoenix, Minnesota did it again. They held a seemingly comfortable 10-point advantage with only three minutes left on the clock. The win was there for the taking. It was in their grasp. And then, it slipped through their fingers like sand.
The air in the arena was thick with tension as the final moments of regulation unfolded. You could feel the collective gasp of the 16,957 fans as DeMar DeRozan, a seasoned veteran with ice in his veins, stepped to the free-throw line. Swish. Swish. He calmly sank both shots, tying the game at 101 with 34 seconds remaining. The Timberwolves’ lead, once a fortress, had crumbled into dust.
Edwards Shines, But Can’t Carry the Timberwolves Alone
Anthony Edwards was nothing short of spectacular. The man was a walking bucket, a human highlight reel, pouring in 43 points with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. He attacked the rim, pulled up for jumpers, and fought with every ounce of his being to drag his team across the finish line. He was a warrior on an island, a solo act in what was supposed to be a team sport.
But as the clock wound down, the weight of the entire franchise seemed to rest on his young shoulders. With the game on the line, he took the shot—a jumper that could have been the game-winner. It rimmed out. The basketball gods can be cruel, and on this night, they were downright merciless to Minnesota.