You can find talent all over the NBA. What you don’t find often is a player who makes the court feel smaller for the other team on one end… and bigger for his own team on the other.

That’s what Victor Wembanyama has done to the league this season.

The standings are the quickest way to cut through the noise: the Spurs are 41–16, sitting second in the West, and they’ve been playing like a group you don’t want to run into in a seven-game series. They’ve been top-10 offensively and near the very top defensively for most of the year — the exact formula every serious contender is looking for.

And the craziest part is, Wembanyama isn't even at his ceiling yet — but he’s already good enough to pull a young roster into the Finals.

The Case Isn’t Complicated: Two-Way Dominance Wins In May

When you call a team a contender, you’re really saying two things:

1. They can win in multiple ways.

2. They can survive the ugly parts of playoff basketball.

That’s where Wembanyama changes the whole conversation.

He’s giving you 24 points and 11 rebounds per game, shooting over 50% from the field, and still blocking shots at a rate that doesn’t feel real. He’s sitting at 2.8 blocks per game — the gap between him and second place is as wide as the gap between second and 20th in the league.

In the playoffs, a lot of stars get dragged into the mud. The pace slows. The whistle changes. Possessions turn into half-court wrestling matches. That’s usually when the “fun regular season team” gets exposed.

Wembanyama is the opposite of that.

The things that travel in the playoffs — rim protection, shot deterrence, rebounding, versatile help defense, and the ability to create something late on the offensive end — are literally the core of his game.

The Spurs aren’t just “ahead of schedule.”

They’re here.

The League Still Hasn’t Found A Way To Guard Him

Every great player has a certain style of opponent that gets to them. There’s always something. Some guys struggle with length. Some hate physicality. Others get uncomfortable when the floor shrinks and every closeout feels like it’s right on top of them before they even catch the ball.

But the most dangerous teams for stars are usually the ones that can overwhelm you offensively — the ones where if you’re not giving your team 35 every night, you’re already playing from behind.

Wembanyama breaks that mold. He can dominate defensively and still give you real offense on the other end. And more importantly, his defense doesn’t just slow those avalanche teams down — it shuts off the part of the floor they rely on most.

When an offense is built on rim pressure, quick decisions, and living in the paint, having a 7’4” athlete waiting there changes everything. It forces teams to completly rethink who they are. Drives turn into floaters. Layups turn into kickouts.

And that’s where he becomes different.

You can try to match size, but you're always going to come up short. (Pun fully intended.) You can go small and try to outrun him, but when you’re dealing with someone who plays above the rim on both ends, that isn't as easy as it sounds. You can crowd him and send help, but this roster has enough shooting and decision-making that he’s more than willing to make the simple read and let everyone else eat.

That’s why it’s so hard to find a true “bad matchup” for him. The usual answers don’t stick. They just buy you time.

The Biggest Threat in the West: OKC

If you’re going to pick a team in the West that can actually make this uncomfortable, it’s the Thunder.

Not because they’ve solved Wembanyama. Nobody has. But because they can do the one thing that gives even elite defenses problems: beat you with all five players on the floor.

OKC doesn’t rely on one guy to crack you. They rely on pressure from every angle. The spacing, the pace, the constant movement, and the reality that Shai is still going to be Shai no matter what you throw at him — that forces you into quick (and usually bad) decisions.

Wembanyama can’t guard all five at once.

When the Thunder are playing at their best, every possession becomes a test:

• Are you helping at the rim?

• Are you showing extra attention to Shai?

• Are you staying glued to shooters?

There’s no perfect answer. If you help too much, they move the ball and find a clean look. If you stay home, Shai gets downhill. If you hesitate for even a second, the play is already over.

That’s the one style that can make even a defensive force like Wemby look human. Not because he’s getting exposed, but because the game shifts from one dominant defender to five defenders needing to be perfect, connected, and disciplined for 48 minutes.

Denver, Boston, And The “Can You Beat A Champion?” Question

Boston is the East’s version of the OKC headache — the same basic idea, just with more playoff scars. They don’t need one guy to take 30 shots to break you. They can beat you with all five, and they do it with spacing that feels endless.

If you get sloppy on a rotation, they punish it. If you overhelp at the rim, you’re giving up a clean look. If you try to guard them straight up for 48 minutes, you better be perfect, because they’ll make you defend action after action until somebody cracks.

The good news for San Antonio is that they wouldn’t have to see that until the Finals.

Denver’s a different conversation. They’re battle-tested. They’re former champs. And if Nikola Jokic is playing like Nikola Jokic, you’re going to have a real problem on your hands.

But I believe the Spurs would and should feel confident in a matchup against the Nuggets.

Denver is still extremely Jokic-centered — not in a selfish way, but in a “this is the hub of everything we do” way. The ball finds him, and once it finds him, your defense starts choosing between bad options.

That being said, if you had a draft of players for the specific purpose of slowing down Jokic possessions, Victor Wembanyama would be the consensus #1 pick.

Jokic is still going to get his — he always does. But I’m not sure how much he’d enjoy a series where every shot in the paint feels contested and every “easy bucket” has to be earned.

This Still Isn't His Final Form

This is where the conversation really changes.

The reality is, the player you’re watching right now is already elite — and still figuring things out in real time.

He’s playing bigger. He’s living around the rim more. He’s cutting down on the bailout jumpers. They’re putting him in actions where he’s moving — rolls, designed plays, sprinting the floor — because when he’s coming downhill, the defense has no real answer.

So the real next step isn’t about adding a thousand moves. It’s about making the most out of each opportunity.

1) Faster Reads Against Help

Playoff defenses don’t just double. They load up early. They shrink the floor. They rotate before you even make your move. Everything feels crowded and rushed.

He’s already starting to look more comfortable in those moments, but there’s still another level there. When those reads become quicker and more instinctive — the kick to the corner, the drop-off to a cutter, the immediate re-post before the defense resets — teams will start to hesitate before collapsing the paint.

2) Shot Balance That Can’t Be Baited

Right now, teams still try to bait him. They want the tough jumper. They want the early three. They want him drifting into shots that look smooth but don’t actually put pressure on the defense. And hes done a good job of making a lot of those shots — he's shot over 35% from three each of the last two years. 

But you can already see the change. He’s attacking the paint first. He’s getting to the line more. He’s forcing rotations. He went from nine three-point attempts a game last year to just five this season. And when that shot profile fully locks in, he's going to have more answers than opponents have questions.

Great Players Get Comfortable. He’s Getting Hungrier.

A lot of guys come into the league with rare physical tools. What separates the few that actually take over the league is the mindset that comes with it.

That’s where Wembanyama has really stood out to me.

He’s been great at the podium all season, not because he’s saying anything flashy, but because he never sounds satisfied. He sounds like someone who’s irritated when he misses a read, when he settles for the wrong shot, when he knows he left something out there.

"It's also just the beginning, you know? Because there's so much more I want to add to my game... but some things take time."

That’s the scary part. Because he already plays like someone who belongs at the top of the league, but he talks like someone who’s still chasing it.

And you saw that again at All-Star Weekend. A lot of stars treat that weekend like a break. Defense becomes optional, effort comes and goes. He didn’t approach it that way. He competed. He defended. He took pride in it.

“I want to push the great players of this sport to play in the All-Star game just as hard as I will. We’ll see how it goes, But if they don’t play hard, I’ll do it without them.”

That tells you everything you need to know.

All stats courtesy of NBA.com.

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