All 82 games. Thirty teams. Countless hot takes, 37-point blowouts, last-second banked threes, load management headaches, and at least a dozen “Is [Insert Star Here] secretly unhappy?” stories that turned out to be total nonsense. This is the NBA, people. We made it. Now we’re staring down the barrel of the postseason — that beautiful, chaotic two-month sprint where legacies are made, reputations are shattered, and role players named “Lonnie” randomly turn into playoff heroes.
This year? It’s shaping up to be one of the weirdest and wildest playoff fields in recent memory. Especially out West, where the standings felt like a five-car pileup on black ice.