EL SEGUNDO, Calif. –– The anger had dissipated, leaving behind only the hard, flat light of a Saturday gym and the grim work of repentance.
Two days after Los Angeles Lakers coach JJ Redick’s seismic public rebuke, after he declared his team’s effort a debacle, the promised “uncomfortable” practice commenced.
There were no bloody lips, swollen eyes, and profanity-laced tirades.
Rob Pelinka paced in his office overlooking the practice court, talking on the speaker phone of his cell phone.
The championship banners hung in the rafters, the championship trophies perched in their place.
The session was a stark tonal shift from Thursday night’s volcanic postgame comments. Gone was the heat of immediate fury. In its place was the chilled, deliberate focus of a group performing an autopsy on its own season.
“Truth is uncomfortable,” Redick said. “So you have to put everything out there. That’s all it is.”
What was put out there on the practice floor were the raw, failing mechanics of a team in regression.
The numbers are a cold testament: a defensive rating ranked 26th since LeBron James’ return from injury, a plummet from 14th before his comeback.
The Lakers have lost six of their last ten games, each defeat by double digits, the latest a 23-point Christmas dismantling by Houston where they were outrebounded by 23 boards.
Saturday was about rebuilding from the studs; it’s about returning to the blueprint.
“It’s those three things,” Redick said. “Defensive clarity, role clarity and offensive organization.”
Redick shouldered the blame for the offensive disarray that has followed James’ return 13 games ago.
“Since we’ve gotten Bron back, we haven’t been as organized offensively. Too many random possessions. So that’s on me.”
The practice that embodied this recalibration was described as lengthy, physical and relentlessly fundamental. It was a practice devoid of the usual lively chatter, replaced instead by the stark sounds of instruction—shoes screeching on stops, hands clapping for close-outs, coaches’ voices cutting over the tunes of NBA Youngboy on the speakers.
For center Deandre Ayton, whose two-rebound performance against Houston’s 48-board barrage symbolized the lapse, the day was about vocal penance.
“Holding my guys accountable, especially starting with me,” Ayton said. “No matter how the game is going, we stick to these principles no matter what… This is how we’re going to play on defense — hard and [with] second efforts.”
Ayton dissected the Christmas failure with tangible frustration.
“That’s a simple error. It’s just really simple mistakes, as in boxing out, second effort. We just weren’t that focused on really trying to lock in and do the little details.”
Forward Rui Hachimura, who had declined to speak after the Houston game, echoed the theme of a group that had lost its way.
“We had a good stretch in the beginning, and now we kind of… we relaxed,” Hachimura said. “Or we kind of got tired of winning. But we just stopped doing what we’re supposed to do.”
His personal mandate was simple: “I have to be more focused on bringing the energy, being physical.”
The shadow of absence loomed over the gym. The energy of starting guard Austin Reaves, who will miss the next four weeks with a strained calf, was missing.
His 17.2 points and 5.1 assists per game leave a tangible void, but his connective spirit leaves an intangible one.
“Somebody has to step up,” Hachimura said. “We have to focus on us right now.”
Redick framed the entire day as “recalibration and reconnection.” He spoke of an early morning staff meeting in the dark, followed by a player meeting built not on lecture but on listening.
“It was also for our staff, myself, to listen to the players and what they need,” Redick said.
What emerged was a focus on the fundamentals of basketball. Drills were stripped back. Shell defense was emphasized. Rotations were walked through, then run, then drilled again. It was less about installing new schemes and more about restoring eroded habits—the championship habits that propelled Los Angeles to an early 15-4 start.
The uncomfortable part, it seemed, was not confrontation but confrontation with reality.
The reality that their early success may have been fragile.
The reality that integrating a legend like James has disrupted both rhythm and resistance.
The reality that talk of care is meaningless without the daily, grinding choice to execute.
“I challenge myself every day,” Redick said. “This is a position where you’re constantly absorbing information. You’re absorbing what is happening on the court.”
What happened on the practice court Saturday was an absorption of blame, a commitment to basics and a quiet, collective decision to stop the slide. The loud anger of Thursday was gone, metabolized into the silent, sweat-drenched work of repair.
“It’s adversity, it’s going to happen,” Ayton said. “And I just can’t wait to see how we bounce back from this.”
Whether that practice sticks and how the Lakers bounce back are questions entirely separate.
The truth is uncomfortable. The truth is also undefeated.