For the second year in a row, the Minnesota Timberwolves are heading to the Western Conference Finals.

Take a moment. Let it marinate. Maybe even pour yourself a celebratory Grain Belt and cue up that YouTube clip of KG jumping on the scorers’ table in 2004, just to set the mood. Because if you’ve spent the last two decades living and dying with this team, this isn’t just surreal—it’s practically biblical.

The Wolves have now doubled their playoff series win total from the previous 34 years in the past two postseasons. This franchise went from “lovable losers” to “low-key killers” seemingly overnight. And now, they’re one step away from the NBA Finals.

But we’ll get to that. Because for the next few days (or maybe hours), Minnesota waits.

We wait to find out who’s stepping into the ring next. It’ll be either the surging Denver Nuggets or the shiny new Oklahoma City Thunder, both currently locked in a second-round slugfest. Ideally, this series goes seven games, features a couple 55-minute double overtimes, and ends with Jamal Murray and Chet Holmgren crawling off the court like they just finished The Revenant.

So yeah, for tonight, you’re rooting for Denver. Even if you’ve spent the last calendar year loving to hate them. You want a Game 7. You want the long haul. You want whoever emerges to walk into the Western Conference Finals already halfway to exhaustion.

Let’s start with Denver.

I know the Wolves have beaten them six times in a row. I know this current iteration of Minnesota might be the best-equipped team in the league to deal with Nikola Jokic.

But don’t let all that fool you.

This would be the third postseason series in a row between the two teams. The Nuggets are a proud, battle-tested group, and you can bet Jokic still has the Game 7 collapse from last year etched into his basketball soul. If Denver wins Game 6 and then wins a rock fight of a Game 7, they’re walking into the WCF looking for revenge like John Wick after someone touched his dog. It would be personal. Spiteful. Physical. And wildly entertaining.

And still? I’d take it.

Not just because of the history, or the Wolves’ frontcourt depth, or the fact that Rudy Gobert has actually made Jokic work for his MVP-level buckets. But because Denver is thin. Really thin. You can feel the fatigue already setting in. These are the types of minutes that show up when you’re six games into your second straight do-or-die series.

The Wolves have been there. Ask Anthony Edwards what a seven-game second-round straight slugfest feels like. The mileage adds up, and suddenly those springy closeouts turn into slow lunges. That’s when a rested team like Minnesota—who’s finally clicking, defending like lunatics, and riding a Randle-Edwards two-man game that’s low-key devastating—can pounce.

Now let’s talk OKC.

They’re the shiny new toy of the Western Conference. Loaded with length, twitchy athleticism, and a future that probably involves them annoying us all for the next decade. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander is the kind of guy who drops 38 and somehow feels like he’s coasting while doing it. The Thunder are scary in a very different way. They’re fast, they’re weird, and they’re young enough not to know what they’re supposed to be afraid of. But the Wolves? They’re built for this matchup too.

Minnesota has already proven they can beat OKC. They took two of three in that February series—one of them being the “Are you kidding me?” comeback from down 25 in the fourth quarter. They have size advantages all over the floor. And in a playoff series where the whistle tightens up and foul-hunting becomes less of a cheat code? Shai’s bag of tricks becomes a little less useful.

More importantly, OKC doesn’t have a second star who can keep pace with Ant and Julius when they’re both cooking. They’re good—really good—but they may not have that top-gear firepower to break Minnesota’s defensive shell.

Would OKC be a tougher matchup than Denver on paper? Maybe. But the Nuggets come with more mental warfare. With OKC, you’re getting chaos. With Denver, you’re getting scars.

Here’s the bottom line: the best thing for the Wolves is rest. Period. That’s the only absolute truth in this entire equation. Whether it’s Denver or OKC, you want this to go the distance. You want physicality. Overtime. Maybe a little altitude sickness for good measure. And when it’s all over, you want a tired, bruised-up team heading into Game 1 on short rest while Ant’s in full Terminator mode and Julius is already halfway into his villain arc.

Last year, the Wolves ran out of gas. This year, they’re refueled, refocused, and frankly more dangerous than anyone wants to admit.

Four wins from the Finals.

Eight wins from immortality.

And for the first time in your basketball-loving life, you don’t need to squint and pretend this team is a contender.

They are the contender.

So buckle up, Minnesota. Get your popcorn ready. And tonight? Hold your nose and root for Denver. A tired rival is a beautiful thing.