The Denver Nuggets definitely should have won in 1974 and definitely again in 2008 and probably again in 2020. The Denver Nuggets should have lost in 1983 and again in 2002 and again in 2014. Because for 40 years, the Denver Nuggets were good, and for 40 years, the Denver Nuggets were bad. In any given year, if you wanted to find the Denver Nuggets, it was probably a good idea to start with the eighth seed in the Western Conference, where they were hilarious and incomplete and without a good way to be anything else.
That was, of course, until Nikola Jokic arrived. Nikola Jokic weighs a very real 300 pounds and is a very real 7-footer who can’t really jump very high or run very fast. There are many lies told about him and almost all of them stem from or try to explain away his inability to do everything he does. The accepted rebuttal to these lies generally holds three things true: he sees the game better than anyone else; his touch is as soft as it comes; She can throw 300 kilograms around like a ballerina. These consist of three secondary premises: he is deeply unselfish toward a player of his caliber; he can make himself look good whenever he wants; and it is for all intents and purposes immovable property. The truth of these six facts is undeniable, and the problem is that when taken together, it creates the belief that any basketball player of any size, with any skill set, could be ready to work with Jokic.
But every year the Nuggets need a shooter, and every year Cam Johnson goes beyond the three-foot-wide, half-second long windows that Jokic opens up for him. They need men who can dribble reliably, and Reggie Jackson didn’t know he had to move when Jokic had the ball. They need guards who can play with instincts, and Jalen Pickett didn’t know what was happening until he stopped the offense.
Because Jokic is an emperor and he doesn’t like members of his imperial court moving where they shouldn’t. Because he understands what defenses are going to do and likes to trick them into believing they know what to do. His eyes usually go to the space in the floor where he doesn’t want the ball to go, and he moves slowly when he wants to explode. He shoots the ball higher than he needs to and from angles that shouldn’t work, and he doesn’t like to hold the ball too long, but he has to touch the ball more than anyone else or the defense will figure it out and he won’t be able to fuck with them anymore.
Aaron Gordon and Jamal Murray realized this very early on. Usually Michael Porter Jr. and the beauty of early setups that included one of Bruce Brown, Christian Brown or Kentavious Caldwell-Pope is that those three guys saw things the rest of the league didn’t. Aaron knew that Jokic turned mid-post to draw Gordon’s man’s attention, that he wouldn’t notice Aaron’s dunker jump until Aaron’s hand was eleven feet off the floor. Just like Jamal realized, Jokic needs extremely quick bounces on the short trick to keep the weakside help and force them to choose between the Jokic floater or the MPJ three. And then, of course, there are the smart defenders who see it coming and load up on Aaron at Brown’s expense, who can either parachute into the paint out of nowhere or step up to a three, and then of course there are defenses who seem to load up on Aaron only to run toward shooters as Jokic decides, at which point the ball lands in Aaron’s arms, and then who’s defending. Jamal wants to throw it to Jokic at the free-throw line and hedge him hard at the top of the key so he can wrap the ball up the sideline and then before any pass-stopper can recognize Jamal’s stunt and step back to his left for an open three.
The type of empire Jokic runs is a ruthless hierarchy. Success depends on the free rein of his upper echelon, who should get the most minutes and touches, and whose services command cartoon sums of money. To enter this stratum one must possess either a ten-year stake or a disruptive element of titanic proportions. The middle class proliferates around and below the upper class, is segregated into very specific roles, and provides only very specific opportunities. The middle class, made up mostly of proven veterans on more expensive deals, is designed to constantly deliver itself: top performers will always get better deals and better roles with different teams. In theory, the future depends on players at the bottom, especially young players on lucrative deals, to prove enough to fill those roles in the middle.
To some extent, the Empire understands this. But he also understands the unimaginable financial commitments he’s made to the imperial core, which could at any moment blow his Achilles or force him out of town. The empire cannot afford to slip, and neither can its projects. Julian Strawther has to be good enough on defense right away that he can survive a three-step drift through the momentary window Jokic creates and score because he’s set up. Peyton Watson must find a way to shed his lanky frame at the dunker spot, or his minutes won’t recover without a defensive rotation where his athleticism and instincts can be game-changing. And Trevon Brazile, in his second career game, needs to hit every defensive rotation to keep the Nuggets afloat when Cam Johnson lands.
If the lower ranks outperform their current market value, the empire could theoretically tolerate two months of damage within its upper echelon and still compete at the highest levels. This is the ideal situation in which the empire can survive on the surplus value created by its cheap, nameless masses.
But that’s not exactly what’s happening: Strawther doesn’t seem really comfortable in the system yet, and he’s entering a contract year; Peyton Watson flourished in a largely coreless, isolation-heavy offense for twenty games before hitting restricted free agency and being traded to the Cavs; Zeke Nnaji is neither the fumbling Jokic backup nor the instinctive inner demon the Nuggets have long needed off the bench; and Isaiah Hartenstein, Collin Gillespie and Jay Huff were somewhat odd stylistic fits who were released before a real hit and are now at least solid rotation pieces elsewhere in the league.
The problem is that Jokic, Murray, and Gordon command north of seventy percent of the available money, but they don’t get seventy percent of the available minutes. The best candidates to complement the ailing middle class, your OGs Anunoby and Treys Murphy, probably won’t be available for the price the Empire is willing to pay. Good but not great options can be provided if they’re willing to pay a little more than they think they should, and cheap and passable options all come with their own baggage. That’s why Christian Brown turns into a punt and Rudy Gobert-embarrassing bet from a fun perspective; Why Russell Westbrook, 35, should be an EPM monster off the bench while playing at the vet minimum; and why would you trade your last remaining first round pick for Cam Johnson and why should he be a good third option on a championship team right away?
Every year there is a year in despair, when failure cannot be tolerated and all available assets can and will be spent. A future without a self is the bleakest future imaginable, filled with bad years of hopeless gambling that goes nowhere and has no clear purpose. Empire knows this, and that’s why, ironically, it has no problem salting the ground from which its new generation can spring – selling out all its tracks and jettisoning young talent in favor of proven vets. Maybe Russ works, maybe he doesn’t, but either way you sign DeMar and trade Peyton for a valuable asset once he’s out of your budget, and if Bryce Hopkins doesn’t slide perfectly next to Bagley on the bench, you can turn him into Jaylin Williams. The players on your team stop being players themselves, but instead, players’ jerseys that, given the right touches or alongside the right kind of players, can become just what you need right now in these precisely crafted circumstances.
And the real trouble is that these bets often work. Each season during that run, the team broke the decades-long record for most franchise wins in a regular season or most three-pointers or best offense. By sheer size, the core still puts a five-man lineup on par with anyone, an offense that could be the best of all time, and a mediocre but improving defense with the best player in the world.
But then you see, when the Wolves take a 10-point lead in the first round of ’26, Jokic backs off from half court, Jamal moves on Jaden-McDaniels brand molasses, and Christian walks the floor without a clue. You see the team going down 4-2 in the 1/4 finals. You see random signings for washes like Tyus Jones and Marvin Bagley and quick shifts from cheap, offense-first vets to unproven development projects that the system can’t complete since 2023.
In the early days, the infrastructure that could define and develop its own margin fell apart and the team stopped moving with it. It’s the 2026 playoffs, it’s stagflation — a time when the empire’s once-inimitable edge is no longer enough, but the costs of maintaining it continue to rise.
This is the most temporary problem of the Denver Nuggets and other empires like theirs. The game they play, the speed and fluency with which they play it, is above all a game of trust. It’s about rhythms and it’s about vibrations, and at the most basic level it’s about a language that’s formed over at least 5,000 minutes between three people walking in the same direction. Jokic works when he’s sure who’s going to be where, Aaron works where he wants Jokic to be, and Jamal works when he knows where the defense doesn’t want Jokic to be. The regime remains at its peak, able to suspend all reality, extract dollars from neighborhoods, and bend the long arc of history to its will.
If they continue on the trajectory they’re on, they’ll likely rotate one of Aaron Gordon or Jamal Murray. The returns will likely be subverted and the greatest player in franchise history will be wasted in the game. Fans who have remained loyal through all the bad years will find themselves humbled in their attempts to believe the rest of the core. So letting the Denver Nuggets burn, keeping the core together and looking longer-term and making the most of what they have, is not a case of the Empire pulling a rabbit out of a hat and returning to their place at the top of the NBA. But if this spiral continues, it could soon destroy what made them special in the first place – and fail anyway.