Hour 1: The Bad Faith Argument

This is The Dan Le Batard Show with Stugotz. Let’s get into it.

Notre Dame’s new playoff carve-out has other leagues threatening to ice them out of future schedules, and it hit me that in the Pablo Torre versus Nick Wright debate, Pablo is basically Notre Dame: he’s right on substance, but the sanctimony makes him sound wrong.

I’m going to be haunted by that, aren’t I?

On the court, the story is Oklahoma City; they’ve put together a 25-game run we’ve never seen, including a 49-point thrashing of the Suns, and while stars across the league keep getting hurt, this juggernaut might be too dominant to be dramatic.

I see them as a palette cleanser because their defense turns games into steal-layup sprints, and they’re doing this even while sitting stars; they once rested a full starter-quality lineup and still won by 30, like an AAU powerhouse stomping a church team.

They’re fascinating; they might win the NBA Cup, the title, and challenge the regular-season wins record, and after the start-of-the-day jingle, here’s the stat: they’ve spent more time up by 20 or more than they’ve spent trailing at all.

They’re pacing the 2015 to 2016 Warriors at 24 and one; set the over-under at 71 wins—are you over?

Over, but here’s my devil’s advocate: small-market defense is a tough sell for casuals who want stars and sizzle.

Their defense is fun because it forces turnovers and fast breaks, not mud.

And SGA is delightfully retro; he lives in the midrange, gets to the rim, and piles up free throws in a league obsessed with deep threes.

I hear that, but we spent 15 years training fans to chase superteams, not one star winning with midrange and stops.

The bigger story is elite management; the Thunder showed a small market can beat the system, and the Clippers going all-in on Kawhi and PG basically handed them SGA and a treasure chest of picks.

It actually started earlier with Phoenix dumping Kurt Thomas and two firsts to avoid tax; one became Ibaka, which kicked off a long asset chain we kept compounding.

Presti built a super core, lost it, then rebuilt anew; the Clippers’ pick they owe might even land at number one on top of everything else.

Presti read the room, saw the big three blueprint fading, and created a new path built on smart drafting and development.

Unlike the Dodgers buying fixes, OKC constructed a quasi big three with SGA, Chet, and Jalen Williams and a bench so deep that a rookie can be plus-36 in 19 minutes.

And they pioneered taking toxic contracts as long as a first-rounder was attached.

Think Superman III’s micro-skim—Presti kept grabbing tiny slices of value like Horford, Kemba, and Chris Paul deals and stacking picks; it still produced a big three, it’s just that the interim moves were cash in hand.

In a small market you can’t count on free agents, so you have to draft and trade your way there.

To spice it up, who says no to Holmgren and the Clippers’ possibly top pick for Giannis?

A Giannis swing would be about payroll timing as Chet and Jalen’s deals balloon and other starters near expiring; you’d pay the premium to Giannis instead of multiple good-but-replaceable guys, and with that pick, Milwaukee has to at least listen.

Put on the pole whether the way to get a big three is simply to get a big three and if Presti is Richard Pryor in Superman III; my real concern is that if every OKC game is a 30- or 40-point walkover, it starves the league of close finishes.

Last year they had a massive margin of victory and still produced a tense seven-game Finals, so dominance doesn’t preclude drama.

But those Game 7s themselves were blowouts, which feeds my worry that the three-point era creates fewer iconic endgame moments.

That’s bad faith—those sevens were played without key guys, and context matters.

The Pacers had the viral moments, and Thunder got to a Game 7 crescendo only for the matchup to hinge on TJ McConnell-level offense; it still felt compelling.

Late-season lineups are unpredictable, Denver remains a real obstacle, and even the greatest teams needed breaks; that’s why we play the games.

They pushed the Nuggets to seven and found defensive answers for Jokic in spots.

Zooming out, fewer nail-biters means fewer forever moments; OKC won the title without signature highlights that stick, which makes the storytelling harder.

Fans tune in to watch a giant either steamroll or get toppled; excellence attracts.

Then lean into the villain role—SGA’s almost too likable for people to root against.

It’s hard to sell a Goliath when the brand says Oklahoma City.

Dominance is the brand; people resent success more than personality, and OKC can deliver sustained winning we haven’t seen in years.

Drop Giannis onto that and you get the Heat-style or KD-to-Warriors-style drama everyone craves.

Zas, I already answered that—stop asking me again.

Miami takes it from here; Zaslow’s up next with a rapid-fire you-know-about-that, thanks everyone.