Minnesota Timberwolves vs. San Antonio Spurs
Date: November 30th, 2025
Time: 6:00 PM CST
Location: Target Center
Television Coverage: FanDuel Sports Network – North
Radio Coverage: KFAN FM, Wolves App, iHeart Radio
When my two sons were born, I made a conscious decision not to force Timberwolves fandom onto them. That wasn’t altruism. It was basic parental responsibility. Making a child root for the 2010s Wolves was the equivalent of handing them a paper bag and asking them to wear it over their head the next 15 years. If you grew up watching Luke Ridnour dribble out the clock, you know exactly what I mean.
Instead, I let them choose their own NBA allegiances, like I was raising two free-range chickens. Naturally, they drifted to Golden State and Boston. So now I live in New Jersey, in a Wolves exile, surrounded by two miniature front-running dynasties who have already seen their teams host parades.
When I sat down with my youngest son to watch Wolves–Celtics, it already had tension baked in. Him, anxious about a Boston team missing Tatum. Me, quietly terrified that Minnesota, up 12 in the final minutes, was about to find a new and creative way to ruin my Thanksgiving weekend. I even tried to lighten the mood when he started anticipating the pending loss: “Don’t worry. You’ve got us right where you want us.”
A joke. A callback to the Phoenix and Sacramento collapses. The basketball version of those Final Destination movies where inevitable disaster lurks around every corner.
Careless turnovers. Brutal isoball. Ant and Randle taking ill-advised pull-up threes. Suddenly the Celtics tied the game, and the Target Center crowd sounded like 19,000 people watching a horror movie and realizing the killer wasn’t dead yet. Perhaps there was no more fitting image than when the TV cut to two exasperated tweens making the time-out gesture as Finch stood idly by, watching this team pee down its own leg.
Only Mike Conley, the patron saint of maturity, saved the moment with a cold-blooded corner three. And then Ant managed to convert a lost dribble into a glitch shot to seal the game. Finally, mercifully, the Wolves exhaled.
Let’s be honest: that game should’ve been a celebration. First win over an above-.500 team all year. First comeback from a double-digit hole. Instead, we spent the final minutes imagining a third straight late-game implosion in the span of eight days.
The monkey is technically off the Wolves’ back — but it’s still in the room, staring at us, holding a knife.
Which is why tonight, ironically, becomes a gift.
San Antonio walks into Target Center without Victor Wembanyama and without Stephon Castle. No 7’5” Eiffel Tower swatting every floater into the orchestra pit. No freight train attacking the rim. Just the Spurs, the bench guys, and a giant neon sign flashing: “Do Not Mess This Up.”
Wembanyama being out doesn’t guarantee anything. We saw this movie last week in Sacramento. But the opportunity is real. Minnesota has a chance to heal the emotional scar tissue of last week, take down their second consecutive +0.500 opponent, and close November on something resembling a high note.
If they don’t? We’re right back to therapy.
1. Match the Spurs’ intensity from the opening tip.
This isn’t the 19-win Spurs of recent memory. They just beat Denver in a decisive NBA Cup game and they’re feeling themselves. That kind of win for a young roster is like tequila shots before karaoke — suddenly everyone thinks they’re Beyoncé. San Antonio’s role players will view tonight as a showcase game. It’s their chance to prove they deserve minutes even when Victor returns. That makes them dangerous.
The Wolves, meanwhile, will be fighting three enemies: the Spurs, tired legs, and their own bad habits. If they come out sloppy, slow, or entitled, if they think they can roll the ball out and win by talent alone, then San Antonio will drag them into a rock fight. We’ve seen it before.
This needs to be a “bury them early” game, not a fourth-quarter mercy killing. Jump on them, get up 18, turn the crowd into a nightclub, and go into cruise control before the starters’ legs remind them it’s the second night of a back-to-back.
2. Feast in the paint like it’s Thanksgiving leftovers.
If there was ever a night for Rudy Gobert to walk onto the floor like the only Frenchman who matters, it’s this one. No 7’5” demigod behind him. No generational rim protection. Just Rudy, a pack of undersized Spurs, and an endless buffet of lobs, putbacks, and tip-ins.
Naz Reed should be licking his chops. Julius Randle should be lighting up the block. This is a “get your paper” game for the front line. San Antonio without Wemby is a team begging to be punched in the mouth. If the Wolves turn this into a perimeter shootout instead of a freight-train paint assault, they deserve whatever humiliation happens next.
3. Fix the offense. Tonight is for rhythm, not hero ball.
When the Wolves play team basketball, they look like a conference finalist. When they play isolation basketball, they look like a fever dream starring Ricky Davis. We saw way too much of the latter against Boston with Edwards forcing contested step-backs, Randle pounding 15 dribbles into a turnover, and weak kick-outs that led to 24-second-clock violations. The Celtics should’ve been finished off with eight minutes left. Instead, the Wolves handed them oxygen tanks.
Against a shorthanded Spurs team, the Wolves don’t need to go star-for-star. They need to rediscover their structure. Movement. Drives. Kick-outs. Ant collapsing the defense, Julius playing off two feet, Donte and Jaden punishing people from the corners. Not everything needs to be a mixtape highlight. Sometimes professional basketball is as simple as “find the open man, shoot the open shot.”
4. Julius Randle needs to regain his form.
For the first month of the season, Randle was the Wolves’ adult in the room. With Ant hurt, he stabilized the offense, bullied smaller defenders, passed out of doubles, and basically told everyone: “Relax, I’ve got this.”
That Julius has gone missing the past week. We’ve seen bad shots, tunnel vision, questionable drives, and turnovers that looked like he was telegraphing his passes to the broadcast team. Wolves fans don’t need the Knicks version of Randle. They need the playoff version from last spring: the controlled bruiser who gets 20, 10, and 8 without detonating team chemistry.
Tonight should be his reset button. No Wemby means easy paint touches, mismatches, and driving lanes the size of Hennepin Avenue. Get into the body. Draw attention. Kick to shooters. Not everything needs to be a revenge dunk.
THE POINT IS SIMPLE: DO NOT GIVE THIS ONE BACK
There is zero excuse to drop a home game to an injured Spurs team.
Fatigue? Everyone is fatigued.
Back-to-back? Professionals deal with it.
Confidence? You just beat Boston.
The Wolves have spent the past week reinventing new forms of self-sabotage. They finally got a taste of redemption. A win over a winning team in a comeback effort that should have snapped the voodoo spell. Now they have a chance to actually build momentum instead of ripping the bandage off every other night.
12–8 isn’t perfection. It isn’t destiny. But it’s stability. It’s that first step toward climbing the Western ladder you absolutely must climb if you don’t want to be jockeying with San Antonio for positioning in March and April. It’s a chance to end November not as a punchline, but as a real basketball team with something to build on.
The Wolves don’t need a miracle tonight. They just need to play like adults for four quarters.
