This season, armed with a robust collection of electrifying talent that warrants championship-or-bust expectations, the Oklahoma City Thunder may have the best defense in NBA history. This sentence is admittedly a bit presumptuous for a few reasons; whenever teams from different eras are compared, headaches follow. Crowns are forever subjective in this context: People can look at the Boston Celtics, Minnesota Timberwolves, or Orlando Magic (the top three finishers in defensive rating last year), wonder why they aren’t receiving the same type of speculative praise, and not necessarily be wrong. All are stout in their own ways.
But the Thunder are coming off of a year in which they boasted the fourth-best defense, and pretty much every personnel decision they made this summer was like polish on a scuffed gemstone. They shed the biggest liability in their starting five (Josh Giddey), preserved the rest of their young and improving roster (continuity matters!), and then added two standout defenders in Alex Caruso and Isaiah Hartenstein (hand-in-glove fits for OKC’s aggressive style of play who also fix its most glaring problem). For most organizations, this would be a triumphant coda. The final step after years of trial and error. In Oklahoma City, it feels more like a chrysalis has split.
Translation: When you look at how awesome they already were and combine it with a capacity for greatness that isn’t close to full, the Thunder have a defensive ceiling that, in theory, sits higher than everybody else’s. In an era in which it’s never been easier to score points, they won’t log a defensive rating that compares to that of the ’04 Pistons or ’08 Celtics. But relative to whatever next season’s league average is, they can lap the field in a way that stamps them among the all-time greats.
For opponents trying to strike, where’s the entry point? Who’s the weak link? The gaps between OKC’s armor plates are too narrow for these questions to matter. (Mismatch hunting won’t work, so don’t even try.) They rotate on a string and make multiple efforts, with A-plus grades in the following categories: speed, instincts, versatility, positional size, and general confidence. Last year’s mindset that read as if they were the ones on the attack—backed by a league-best defensive turnover rate and more loose balls recovered than any other team—can be amplified this season.
The compelling numbers don’t stop there. The Thunder allowed 0.95 points per possession against pick-and-rolls (including when a pass was made that led to an immediate shot), which, according to Synergy, led the league. Their 0.91 points per possession allowed in isolation ranked second.
From Lu Dort and Jalen Williams to Cason Wallace and Chet Holmgren, this is a collection of candle snuffers who can extinguish any flame, whether shaky or bright.
Dort’s physicality worms into the head of whomever he’s guarding. Like every great on-ball defender, he tirelessly works to disrupt rhythm, turning unfettered drives into contested jumpers. What elevates Dort is how he visibly frustrates scorers who, when up against almost anyone else, hardly sweat—as was evident by the league-high 52 non-charge offensive fouls he drew last year. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander is 6-foot-6 and plays defense like he wants the ball more than anyone else on the court (his 150 steals tied for the lead in the NBA last season, when he finished seventh for Defensive Player of the Year). It’s an incredible mindset that can’t be applied to every MVP candidate who holds immense offensive responsibility.
J-Dub’s wingspan is 9.75 inches longer than his height (the league’s third-widest difference); last year, he spent 30 percent of his playing time hounding the other team’s no. 1 option, which was tied for the 10th-highest mark in the league, per BBall Index. Isaiah Joe, Aaron Wiggins, Kenrich Williams, and Jaylin Williams are all solid in their own ways and do not back down.
Wallace is Jrue Holiday’s mini-me, a nuisance for 94 feet with twitchy hips that complement even quicker reflexes. There aren’t five rim protectors more audacious than Holmgren, who defended more shots at the basket than everyone except Brook Lopez last season while holding opponents to the sixth-lowest field goal percentage among all players who contested at least 250 shots. Neither rookie missed a game last season or looked how a rookie normally does when initially confronted with the speed and strength of professional basketball. Both will be even better in year two.
That combination of youth and chemistry is a big reason why expectations for the Thunder’s defense can be historically high: It has so much room to grow, with green talents coming into their own and a winning scheme that stands to evolve. Last year, their 3-point defense inverted a stance that helped Boston go all the way: Instead of allowing above-the-break tries, Oklahoma City gave up the most corner 3 attempts in the league. (Overall, 70.9 percent of the shots they allowed were either at the rim or behind the arc, which ranked 23rd.)
Some of these ostensible blemishes were schematically necessary, dictated by Oklahoma City’s undersized personnel. OKC made up for this by showing considerable bodies in the paint, even off the strong side. Depending on who had the ball, they weren’t afraid to put themselves in rotation, blitzing a pick-and-roll or keeping the screener’s man high up on the floor. More often than not, their cohesive energy tilted the possession in their favor. The Thunder help and recover without hesitation, crystalizing a truism as you watch them play: Not all corner 3s are equal. That shot might be a highly efficient in a vacuum, but not when it’s contested, rushed, or coughed up from someone who isn’t much of a threat:
At the same time, Mark Daigneault, the NBA’s reigning Coach of the Year, probably doesn’t want his team to finish dead last in such an important category again. And part of why that happened was a toxic ripple effect from his team’s inability to keep opponents off the boards. (Only the Wizards were worse on the defensive glass.) Despite ranking second in half-court defense, the Thunder were exposed badly here; putback attempts were their Achilles’ heel all year long.
Enter Hartenstein, a 7-footer who steps into the Paycom Center with a three-year, $87 million contract, coming off of a season in which he finished second in defensive estimated plus-minus. This man will help turn a relatively feeble frontcourt into a snarling beast. There will be more drop coverage, fewer corner 3s, and less strain on the boards when he’s in the game. (The Knicks were one of the best defensive rebounding teams in the league with him on the court last year.)
How OKC uses him will be fascinating. They can go big with Holmgren—whose 3-point shot allows this to happen without any serious spacing issues on the other end—or bring Hartenstein off the bench and potentially see improvement in their team’s rim protection. Last season in New York, his impact on opponents’ field goal percentage at the rim ranked first among all bigs who logged at least 1,500 minutes. This is someone who essentially strips away whatever sense of desperation OKC endured last year. Health permitting, they can always have at least one top-shelf anchor roaming the paint.
If Hartenstein’s arrival wasn’t enough to sell you on the Thunder, I’ve saved the best for last. Caruso, who was exchanged for Giddey, has made two straight All-Defensive teams; adding him to a unit that was already robust is downright unfair. A cat burglar who knows how to pick a lock and when to kick a door down; Caruso goes long stretches legitimately looking like the most complete defender alive. He’s elite on the ball against multiple positions, hyper-intelligent, communicative at all times, and happy to sacrifice his body for the greater good. When Caruso is on the floor, his teammates move faster, try harder, and anticipate with more confidence. They also force a crap ton of turnovers—feast your eyes on this impact!—which will be particularly useful whether OKC is dialing back its aggression with bigger lineups or unlocking smaller groups that stalk passing lanes and make the game feel like it’s being played in a sauna.
Not every defense has a mutually beneficial relationship with the offense. The Thunder’s defense does. The players take care of the ball, make a ton of shots, and operate with a balanced floor. Scoring on them in transition was incredibly difficult last year, which is particularly impressive for a team that drives the ball as often as OKC does, always humming at a breakneck pace.
Altogether, the Thunder’s kinetic energy, flexibility, and horsepower let them match up with any potential threat in the Western Conference. They have enough size for the Nuggets, Timberwolves, and Mavericks and a perimeter rampart formidable enough to deal with the Suns, Pelicans, Grizzlies, Warriors, and Clippers.
A very good defense is usually measured by its ability to solve problems and answer questions. But the all-time greats shove offenses on their heels and force them to adjust through a haze of split-second decisions. The Thunder can do both—proactive and reactive—while tying their opponent to a treadmill and turning the speed up as fast as it goes.
They can be the best at protecting the rim. They can be the best at getting back in transition. They can be the best at forcing turnovers. They can be the best at alternating pick-and-roll coverages on the fly. They can be the best at switching on the perimeter, inducing isolation, and then smothering the ball handler. They can be significantly better than they were on the defensive glass. And they can do it all without ever having to take a breath or compromise themselves for the sake of helping out their offense. Everyone in their rotation is a two-way player. It’s an embarrassment of riches.
The last time an established contender entered a season with two new elite defenders, it won the championship. Oklahoma City, the belle of every NBA prognosticator’s ball, is now well-positioned to do the exact same thing.
