Knicks vs. Spurs NBA Finals: Victor Wembanyama and San Antonio may have arrived ahead of schedule, but the pain did as well — and it can last

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SAN ANTONIO — A few hours after the biggest collapse in NBA Finals history, Felix Wembanyama, accompanied by a pair of associates, rolled his jet black suitcase through the glass sliding doors at LaGuardia airport in New York. He approached an airline desk and spoke briefly with the attendant, then retreated to a nearby seat to collect himself.

As he stood up to continue his journey, an attempt was made to chat with the father of the most compelling figures to enter the NBA in decades.

Felix stopped in his tracks. His face told the tale of a man in the midst of a roller coaster of emotions. A long night. An early morning. The highest of highs and lowest of lows at the same time. A flight to catch. Instead, he chose at that moment to smile, politely declining the request. “No time for dialogue,” Felix said cheerfully, motioning toward the security gates.

He ultimately reached his final destination. His son, Victor, and the Spurs did not. On Saturday night, San Antonio fell to New York 94-90, ending its audacious Finals run in just five games.

“It's over,” head coach Mitch Johnson said. “So there will be plenty of time for reflection…We weren't ready to win an NBA championship. The better team won. We did a lot of good things, and we didn't finish the job. That's what it is.”

As a distraught Johnson repeatedly had to lean forward from his podium seat, unable to hear postgame inquiries clearly due to the booming “Who let the dogs out?” Knicks chants erupting from the Frost Bank floor, the locker room told a depressing, somber tale. A space that served as a home for euphoria and jubilation for months had been reduced to a quiet murmur.

Keldon Johnson and Julian Champagnie, two of the loudest, most exuberant voices all year, sat in their respective seats, hands resting against their heads while staring into their phones. Others shuffled around, some discussing plans to get back in the gym, some gathering their belongings in silence.

De’Aaron Fox, sitting by himself with a towel draped over his shoulders, was greeted by Lindy Waters III, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Then, another staff member did the same. Champagnie, who had been in the process of removing his uniform, rose from his stall to offer words of encouragement to the veteran guard. The sharpshooter’s uplifting spirit was called on a few moments later as Stephon Castle, with one locker separating them, stood motionless. Champagnie locked eyes with his teammate.

“I just wanna see you smile, man,” Champagnie said. “That’s it.”

The postmortem on a Finals requires an examination of what truly represented this matchup at its core, which was a social experiment at its apex. This wasn’t simply a matchup between the two most deserving representatives of the Western and Eastern Conferences. What originated as a basketball bout evolved into a socio-economic, political and cultural conversation — an emotional conjoining of two distinct ecosystems forced to share the same spaces for nearly two weeks.

For the Spurs, Game 5 unfortunately told the tale of how they ultimately fell short in this series. San Antonio surrendered leads of 14, 12, 29 and 16 in Games 1, 2, 4 and 5, respectively, a jarring and glaring sign of a young team — and coaching staff — failing to adjust and account for playoff experience. The Spurs’ inability to hold onto the rope became their undoing, a lesson in leverage. The other aspects of Game 5 — stellar rim protection, less-than-stellar halfcourt execution, starting backcourt offensive struggles and a muted Wembanyama in the second half — offer insight into pressure points that must be addressed moving forward. But the closing argument, as it pertains to a flurry of furious Knicks comebacks, remains the Spurs’ lack of control in the games’ tightest moments, exposed on basketball’s biggest stage under bright lights. Throughout the playoffs, San Antonio registered a minus-10.8 net rating in the clutch, an efficiency on par with the 29th-ranked Brooklyn Nets.

“Yeah, there's a lot that goes into it,” Johnson said. “The simple consistencies, we didn't deserve to win the games. There's a lot of level of execution. There can be rebounding. There can be end-of-game details. There can be starting the game where you get the lead and then you don't sustain that. NBA games are long, it happens during the regular season, too. Everything is much more on stage during the Finals when everybody's watching.”

More importantly, the Finals offered a window into the ever-evolving Wembanyama equation, what was learned about the Frenchman and how the supporting cast relates to him. The juxtaposition of Brunson’s 45-point offensive avalanche at the season’s most critical juncture with Wembanyama’s pedestrian showing highlights the gap that still remains to be shortened. At various points in this series, the Knicks were able to construct halfcourt schemes to either drain Wembanyama’s energy with numerous pick-and-rolls, or draw him out away from the restricted area. The rapid difference in Wembanyama’s ability to erase Thunder big Chet Holmgren and the cat-and-mouse game with Karl-Anthony Towns — wrapped in New York’s overall scheme — proved to be the tipping point.

From a defensive standpoint, Wembanyama remains the most menacing act in sports, evident by his five blocks Saturday night, each denial coming with a dissertation. By nature, San Antonio’s rim protection had become a religion over the course of the year, something the Spurs devoutly believed in. By Game 5, Wembanyama’s looming presence became the oxygen attempting to give life to a team struggling to catch its breath. New York was limited to just 37.5% shooting at the rim, its worst efficiency over any regular-season or playoff game this season. But there still remains a series of levels at the other end the 22-year-old has yet to reach.

“I think that compared to anything before, this is the biggest lesson of my life,” Wembanyama said. “The biggest learning moment. I can't tell you exactly what the lesson is, but we're learning from that, for sure. I'm learning more than any other time in my life before. … What I'm pissed about is that there's probably a hundred games before we can be back in Finals. I don't know how to say it in English, but I'm going to have to hold that inside of me and slow down and wait and execute for a hundred games.”

Two months ago, moments before the Spurs took the floor for this particular squad’s first playoff game, against the Portland Trail Blazers, Johnson, the emotional thermostat of this tight-knit group, urged his teammates to come even closer before marching through the tunnel.

Johnson, this team’s longest-tenured component, had seen just about every possible facet of the organization — from a rebuilding unit to an exciting bunch and a lethal, viable contender. But before the team could storm the court to a sea of adoring, cheering fans, Johnson needed to remind everyone of their central theme.

“Whatever we do, we gonna do this s*** together,” he said, putting his fist in the air while others followed suit.

As Fox, Castle and Champagnie addressed a gathering of reporters in the locker room Saturday night, still visibly working through emotions, it was evident that there was an understanding, an expectation, even, of a return to the top. The lessons learned, the accolades achieved and the pain suffered were all collective. Such is the rising and falling action of NBA franchises that dare to buck the trend, that dare to dream big.

If recent history serves as a guide, nothing is promised. The last four editions of the Finals have featured eight different teams, a celebration of competition but a reminder that the path to contention can be thwarted by any number of unforeseen circumstances. There’s a certain level of maturity, emotional intelligence and processing power necessary to navigate those waters.

“I think you have to look at it for the season it’s been,” veteran forward Harrison Barnes told Yahoo Sports. “The pain of losing in the Finals, and ultimately you have to accept that. There’s no guarantee that this group will ever have the opportunity to achieve that. Some players in this room may be able to get back to the Finals, some players in this room may be able to win a championship. I think accepting what this moment has been, where we come to as a team, and hopefully as guys continue on in their careers — whether it’s five, 10, 15 years — they’ll use this as a reference point.”

The inflection point Barnes speaks of is an interesting one, simply because of the trickle-down effects one game — of the umpteenth magnitude — can have on the future of a franchise. There will be questions posed internally and externally about roster makeup, flexibility and holes and roles that may need addressing.

Fox, who finished 3-of-15 from the field and 1-of-8 from 3 heaped a ton of praise on rookie Dylan Harper, but what does the future hold? Harper, who led the team in scoring with 25 points and added 5 rebounds and 4 assists, looked anything like an inexperienced 20-year-old. His entire playoff run, putting together one of the most impressive stretches in league history for a downhill-driving guard, certainly puts him in the driver’s seat for some tough conversations moving forward, especially hearing how Harper was apparently frustrated with his usage in his first year in San Antonio.

“It meant a lot,” Harper said of his rookie stint. “Whole lot to grow on, whole lot to learn. At the end of the day, it’s my first year — can’t keep moving forward without a positive attitude. Obviously we lost, and I wanted to win that but gotta believe we’ll bounce back.”

There’s also the need for Castle, who shot just 23.3% from distance in the conference finals and 30% in the Finals, to improve his floor spacing against more prominent opponents — as well as some of his decision-making under pressure. The second-year guard struggled mightily in Game 5, missing nine of his 10 shots, all of his 3-point attempts and turning the ball over three times.

Over the coming months, the Spurs’ brass, armed with cap space, draft capital and a hoard of youth, will determine whether roster additions or adjustments are necessary. San Antonio is nearly $50 million below the luxury tax and well clear of any aprons — thanks to a number of its players still being on rookie contracts — which gives them wiggle room in the offseason. Wembanyama is eligible for a $251 million extension, and the Spurs will also have their mid-level exceptions available. Other key members of their core, including Devin Vassell, Johnson and Champagnie are extension-eligible as well.

From a roster-building standpoint, however, San Antonio is anything but a finished product. It’s clear that while reserve big Luke Kornet filled the role best to his abilities, the team could benefit from a Wembanyama understudy who is more skilled than Kornet and can stretch the floor similarly to Wembanyama, avoiding the need to drastically change tactics when the former is off the floor. It’s also apparent that a secondary scorer — who can mask as a primary option when Wembanyama endures off nights or stiff opposing defenses — should be on the table as well.

Make no mistake, this team should be here for a long, long time. There’s a built-to-last mentality that’s tangible from top to bottom, a variety of skill sets that mesh accordingly, and a new hunger and passion to succeed at all costs. The pain from losing a Finals, especially on your home floor, is one that will burn for months and years to come. But it starts with sitting with disappointment, understanding regret and anticipating improvement.

“I learned one of many things,” Wembanyama said. “The margin of error is very thin. We absolutely dominated for most of the series. But our errors, our mistakes, are punished so hard that we can't have ups and downs like this. … It's painful. It's painful. But I'm not running away from that. I'm using it to fuel me. I'm sure all these guys you named, they're not satisfied with being eliminated in earlier rounds or not making the playoffs. I'm not satisfied with not winning. But as I said, this is the biggest lesson of my life. As a team, there's no better experience than what we just lived.”

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