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The Thunder aren't invincible, no matter what the stats (or your eyes) tell you

The data that tells you they are inevitable but the Oklahoma City Thunder still have to do the hardest thing in sports — repeat.
Phoenix Suns v Oklahoma City Thunder - Game Two
Phoenix Suns v Oklahoma City Thunder - Game Two | Joshua Gateley/GettyImages

Key Points

Bullet point summary by AI

  • The Thunder face an almost impossible challenge — repeating as NBA champions after a grueling journey to glory.
  • Winning back-to-back titles demands a level of tenacity that fades once the ultimate reward is already in hand.
  • Every remaining contender in both conferences now plays with the kind of desperation champions can no longer summon.

“But are they really going to beat the Thunder?” is today’s hot-and-ready NBA takedown. Available in several fun flavors, from cherry to blue raspberry and even to purple banana, just pop “But are they really going to beat the Thunder?” in the microwave on high for 90 seconds and watch as every second-round playoff team’s hopes and dreams wither away like eroding shale. 100 percent guaranteed to work, or your money back!

Logical super weapons like this are one of my least favorite parts of sports discourse, because they take fun, engaging arguments — from team building strategy and offseason priorities to the Scoot Henderson contract extension (currently my favorite random NBA subplot, something is going to go horribly wrong for someone and I don’t know who) —  and space ray death laser them to oblivion because unless it helps you beat the Oklahoma City Thunder, what are we even doing? 

But I don’t think the Thunder are invincible. They are the best team, sure, but I don’t think it rises to the level of the 2017-19 Golden State Warriors, who by the end were favored over the field to win the Finals. They are the favorites by default, but I’d actually pick “the field” if given the choice right now. And I shall use another wonderful logical super weapon, narrative-based reasoning, to explain why. Here’s to mutually assured destruction!

There isn’t an ironclad statistical case not to pick the Thunder. That's not why I'm here

Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Oklahoma City Thunder
Oklahoma City Thunder guard Shai Gilgeous-Alexander | Mark J. Rebilas-Imagn Images

I could make a bad-faith statistical case why the Thunder are not the basketball Death Star they seem to be, but it would be just that: bad-faith. Sure, some of the teams left get to the free throw line more than they do, we could yap about the Jalen Williams injury uncertainty, I could even devise an interpretive dance/slam poem combo that describes the Knicks’ superior effective field goal percentage and net rating in the playoffs in iambic pentameter. But when describing if a team is “better” than all others, every statistic you pull will just ignore another you didn’t. In the looking and quacking like a duck department, the Thunder look and play like the best team; therefore, they are.

What I will instead do is enumerate my theories of winning basketball championships, whip out nebulous things like “who wants it more,” and wax philosophical about how you can’t manufacture need; you know, stuff I used to employ before I knew how to sort through playing tracking data on NBA.com. Every once in a while, you have to dust off the 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429 and take it for a spin (starts engine).

The Thunder have to do the hardest thing in sports: repeat

Alex Caruso, Jordan Miller
Oklahoma City Thunder guard Alex Caruso | Jayne Kamin-Oncea-Imagn Images

Why is it so hard to repeat in the NBA? Is it because of fatigue, i.e. the team that just won the NBA Finals probably played (or at least tied) for the most total games in the previous season? Is it Pat Riley’s “disease of more,” in which winning it all turns teams into greedy collections of individuals who want to cash in on their success rather than recommit to the process? Or is it just simple probability; every shot in the NBA has, on average, a 47.1 percent chance of going in. How likely is it really that the same team out of 30 is on the right side of that two years in a row?

It is, of course, all of those things, but I think the difficulty of repeating (and thus the weakness of the Thunder) can be distilled even further. Imagine the difficulty of winning a championship; imagine the pressure, the stress, all the torturous jabs from morons like me, the general understanding that being a great player but retiring without a championship will stick with you forever, like it has for Charles Barkley and will for Chris Paul. Imagine all of that, and then suddenly … it’s gone.

To get to that point, you had to commit every fiber of your matter and soul to success on the court. In the playoffs, you had to outwork and outlast every other maniac who wants the same thing you do, because all of you know what’s at stake: eternal glory, parades, fame, fortune and a legacy forever cemented. You fought tooth, nail and screw to get there. And now … what, you’re supposed to do it again?

I saw this up close with the 2025 Boston Celtics, who nursed a seven-year run through playoff heartbreak and roster reloads to finally get it done in 2024. I saw them unable to conjure the same volcanic tenacity that had them cruise to the Finals and win it in five games. They brought the whole team back, they were “the best team,” but even before Jayson Tatum’s injury, it was different. 

Putting in the work to win back-to-back years is almost impossible, no matter how good you are

Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Victor Wembanyama
Oklahoma City Thunder guard Shai Gilgeous-Alexander | Scott Wachter-Imagn Images

The Thunder did much of the same. They will have roughly the same roster full of guys who already have rings — they are, and will be, the favorite. But it’s not an easy road. Without Luka Dončić, I don’t see how the Los Angeles Lakers could do much of anything to them in round two, but what about the San Antonio Spurs? Victor Wembanyama and Co. had their number all year. And then in the Finals? There’s nobody soft left in the East. Even though the Thunder will have a huge talent edge over whoever makes it out, you think Cleveland, Detroit, New York City or Philadelphia are just going to let it happen? Those teams are beyond desperate; they are starving for success. The Thunder, for all their greatness, already ate.

When you’re trying to repeat, there will be a moment when the screws tighten and you have to want it the most. The Thunder will find themselves chasing a loose ball, covering a rotation or getting back in transition and have to, once again, conjure that feeling that everything rides on this one moment, even though it doesn’t. Because for everyone else chasing that ball, it does. 

I’ve long felt that the greatest athletes like Tom Brady and Michael Jordan, who captained enduring dynasties, must be, in some way, unhappy. Because to summon what is required to fight through an unforgiving league, over and over, year after year, you can’t ever be satisfied. There’s a sadness that comes with that, one most people don’t want and won’t gravitate towards naturally. Among all the data, that is the Thunder’s biggest weakness. 

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