WITH 20 SECONDS remaining in overtime, Khris Middleton's finger is on the button. A frenetic Game 1 that was gasping for air had slowed to a halt when Miami Heat guard Goran Dragic slung a 3-pointer from the left corner to tie it at 107.
A groan, then a hush, then a quick survey of the bench to see whether the Bucks want to call timeout and come up with a plan.
This afternoon, there will be no timeout, no fancy whiteboard artistry or huddle rallying cries. Though the Bucks employ the NBA's most valuable player in Giannis Antetokounmpo and a reliable point guard they paid a king's ransom for during the offseason in Jrue Holiday, Middleton is the plan. The job of hunting a shot in the mud of a final possession is all his.
Middleton must not turn the ball over under any circumstance, and he must get off a clean shot, but -- and this is the most important wrinkle -- that shot must come at the very last instant. Too soon, and the Heat could control the rebound and get a final possession of their own. Too late, and the Bucks squander a chance to start the task of avenging last year's mortifying loss as the NBA's best regular-season team to the sixth-seeded Heat 4-1 in the conference semifinals.
So that's the balance on the Middleton account with 14 seconds remaining when Holiday passes the ball to him at the top of the key, then kindly clears to the left corner, giving Middleton both the spotlight and the burden to set things right for the Bucks.
An ancillary benefit of Bucks coach Mike Budenholzer's decision not to call timeout: Middleton draws as his defender, Heat guard Duncan Robinson, a sharpshooter who has impressed with his quick trigger but less so with his one-on-one defensive work. Opposite Robinson, Middleton is hunched over as he cradles the ball. Robinson stares back, then nervously rotates his head right, then left, then right, then right again, anticipating a screen. And with a little over six seconds remaining, Bucks center Brook Lopez scampers up to Robinson's right hip. Lopez slips the screen, which leaves Heat forward Trevor Ariza to switch onto Middleton.
Middleton doesn't have time to size up a second defender, so he takes a single hard dribble to his left with 5.2 seconds remaining, then changes course. With a crossover between his legs, Middleton moves right with the ball, Ariza in pursuit on his left shoulder. With 3.5 seconds remaining, there's a reunion with Robinson, who has left Lopez and darts at Middleton.
For a man who has three seconds to get off a shot, Middleton is dealing with a precarious set of circumstances. For one, he's moving in the wrong direction -- away from the basket and toward the right sideline. Even if there were a corner Middleton could reasonably turn, there's not enough time. So with one fluid motion, he picks up his dribble, elevates, twists his right hip 105 degrees counterclockwise and -- fading backward toward the Miami bench -- heaves the ball over four outstretched arms.
When the ball drops through the net with half a second left on the game clock, Middleton jogs down the sideline, nearly colliding with official Tyler Ford before snaking his way back to the Bucks' bench, his first run-and-bump for teammate Pat Connaughton.
Middleton's shot isn't just a decisive game winner with viral highlight appeal. It's a persuasive rebuttal to a persistent knock against the Bucks that their dynamic MVP, unimpeachable culture, stalwart defense and mastermind coach can't compensate for the team's fatal defect: an inability to find -- and hit -- big shots at crucial junctures.
Following the shellacking by Miami last summer, this specific whisper became louder, both from outside and inside the Bucks: The offense needs to leverage the attention paid to the MVP and run more of the late offense through Middleton, especially if he has the more favorable matchup. That twist was evident in Game 1 of the first round, facing off against Robinson. While it's a dynamic that's unheard of as a regular strategy (imagine LeBron James, Damian Lillard, Stephen Curry regularly handing the ninth inning over to someone else), it might be a scheme that could unlock the Bucks' championship potential as the competition gets stiffer in the postseason.
"We play opposite games," says Antetokounmpo. "It's a good thing to have -- two of your best players who do different things."
There's a growing body of evidence that suggests the Milwaukee Bucks feature both an MVP and a quintessential closer -- an ace and a strikeout stopper -- yet often it's not the same player.
IN THE FIRST days of the Budenholzer administration, Middleton found himself waiting outside assistant Taylor Jenkins' office. Jenkins was finishing up his meeting with center John Henson, one of Middleton's best friends in Milwaukee over the years. While working with Jenkins on his game, Henson noticed a printout on Jenkins' desk titled "The Khris Middleton All-Star Plan."
"The Khris Middleton All-Star Plan!" Henson said when he emerged from Jenkins' office. Middleton responded with an incredulous look. While he appreciated the staff's desire to maximize his potential, he felt they were disregarding his skill set, the things that had transformed him from a second-round pick into a solid NBA starter.
From the outset of training camp in 2018, the coaches let Middleton know they wanted him to adjust his game. For one, they told him, the team would be emphasizing 3-pointers and scaling back on the kinds of midrange shots that were a staple of Middleton's game. Middleton also liked to know where his shots were coming from -- and preferred they come at the elbow and on post-ups.
The Bucks' new offense, they said, would employ a more unorthodox read-and-react system, requiring Middleton to move around more and occupy different spots on the floor. It was a tough sell.
"It was hard for him at first," Antetokounmpo says. "He wants to know where his shots are coming [from]. His game was in the midrange, and we wanted to get a lot of 3s and layups."
Early in training camp, during a 5-on-5 where the specific objective was to implement the new 3s-and-layup approach, Middleton deliberately stuck to his traditional shot selection. He balled out, hitting most of those shots, but the message was clear: Middleton had worked his ass off to grow from a 39th pick to a 20-point-per-game contributor. These weren't impulsive shots, but the product of a lifetime of work.
"There were a lot of those kinds of practices," Middleton says with amusement now. "Looking back, it was extremely tough. It was a totally new kind of basketball. I was a ball-dominant player, and I was frustrated being in a new kind of role."
Just a few years earlier, consternation over a role in the NBA would have seemed improbable. He was an obscure player in high school in Charleston, South Carolina, and joined an AAU squad only because its coach settled for him when the player he inquired about wasn't available.
"He was written off when he was younger," says John Pearson, Middleton's high school coach. "He always had great ideas, but he was still weak and couldn't execute those ideas he had on the floor."
Middleton's college career was forgettable, his final season at Texas A&M cut short when he suffered a knee injury that required surgery. The Detroit Pistons selected him in the second round of the 2012 NBA draft, and he averaged 6.1 points per game in his rookie season.
But the Bucks saw something: a coachable and diligent worker who had a knack for getting off a shot at will -- as long as he got an opportunity.
CADE CUNNINGHAM IS a self-confessed basketball nerd, a 19-year-old savant who constantly studies the tendencies and nuances of NBA players the way an aspiring cleric pores over a religious text.
Back in March, Cunningham was asked whose game he models his own after. He cited LeBron James, Paul George and Luka Doncic, the regulars -- but before all of them: Khris Middleton.
"The main thing is his patience with the game," Cunningham says. "You can see how he's navigating the court and really just taking in every scenario throughout the game. He plays at his own pace. He doesn't get sped up. He can get to pretty much any shot he wants. That's the thing I'm most impressed about."
Among the subtleties of Middleton's game is his rhythm dribble, the sequence of dribbles from an offensive player as he and the defender size each other up. Middleton will switch up the cadence, alternating tempo to keep a defender off guard.
"He does a good job of disguising that he's taking rhythm dribbles to get into his shot," says Cunningham, the likely No. 1 pick in the 2021 NBA draft. "And when he gets it off, he has a quick release. He has a really nice-looking shot. He can get it up and get it over guys. He just knows the game. He has a great feel for it -- and you can tell that."
Middleton has a slight low-country drawl and modest posture that reads unassuming. He carries a quiet intensity that belies what every peer, coach and team executive says is a hypercompetitive drive. But "the light bulb is always on," says Travis Smith, a close friend of Middleton's who works out with him in the summer. It's perhaps not a coincidence that those same peers and coaches say Middleton is most vocal in film sessions and practices, not at social functions or on the team plane.
Asking Middleton to conform his game to the new order in Milwaukee presumed that he could summon the flexibility and intelligence needed to make those adjustments. The timetable wasn't generous because the expectations were high for Budenholzer, Antetokounmpo, the young front office and whoever else was serious about transforming the Bucks from a curiosity to a contender.
The Bucks thrust a ton of new assignments on Middleton to expand his game: learn to play faster while reading and reacting; prepare for catch-and-shoot opportunities beyond the arc and take liberties to fire walk-up 3s; more two-man actions. The more the Bucks' staff threw at Middleton, the quicker he learned it.
"He's insanely smart, one of the smartest basketball players I've ever been around," Budenholzer says. "When I got the job, I had no idea. Anything we ask him to do that takes an adjustment, or requires feel, IQ, offensively and defensively. I respect his basketball intellect to the nth degree."
The result was not only a significant jump in production but also a sizable role as one of the fulcrums of both the offense and defense. Once he bought in, his versatile skill set was a natural for a read-and-react system, and at 6-foot-7, his size on the wing enabled him to defend multiple positions.
"I don't think he gets enough credit for the success that he's had in a system that isn't necessarily tailored to his game," Connaughton says.
By early 2019, the Khris Middleton All-Star Plan had come to fruition. He had learned to stop-worrying-and-learn-to-love-the-system.
"They saw potential in me as a player and saw where I could improve my game," Middleton says. "I learned to work off the dribble. I learned to make reads. I saw the attention I was getting and started to create. It was a lot of work on the court with coaches and teammates. And it worked."
And now the work needs to be sustained for the next six weeks. Middleton has historically been a quality playoff performer (18.5 PPG on 55.6% true shooting, 5.7 rebounds and 4.4 assists), but a deep postseason run demands multiple heroes from a contender.
Middleton will have to continue to trust his game -- and so will the Bucks.
"AT FIRST, WE looked at each other like, 'Who the hell is this guy who is trying to take my minutes?'" Middleton says of Antetokounmpo, his partner of eight seasons. "That's honestly where it was. He was a kid who kept to himself. I was a guy who was trying to figure it out after getting traded. We both had something to prove, and we weren't backing down."
Over time, though, Middleton and Antetokounmpo assumed leadership roles both on and off the court. Middleton established himself as a lead-by-example presence who was selectively vocal. A former Buck recalls a practice from early in Antetokounmpo's career when the 20-year-old decided he wasn't going to participate in a grueling closeout drill, a sight that would be unthinkable today. Middleton took it upon himself to speak to Antetokounmpo, telling him that his behavior was disrespectful -- not necessarily to the coaches but to his teammates who were going hard.
Today, Middleton and Antetokounmpo are the hardest-working duo in show business. Interpersonally, there's little tension. Antetokounmpo will occasionally ride Middleton to maintain his aggressiveness during games, and Middleton will occasionally challenge Antetokounmpo to slow down and play more deliberately.
"On the court, they jell together really well because of their personalities," Connaughton says. "Personally, it's strong. They grew up in this organization. They had kids at the same time. They're both family oriented. So they're not best friends, but they have the utmost respect for each other."
"If there's one person I know who plays to win, it's Khris," Antetokounmpo says. "I've seen this guy give everything he had and end up in the hospital. He. Plays. To. Win."
Win, and win big, is the imperative for the Bucks in their third postseason as a true title contender. No postseason in recent memory has featured a field this wide open -- yet there isn't a team remaining in the bracket with a greater burden than the Bucks'.
Last summer in the bubble, Milwaukee exited the postseason unceremoniously, a devastating outcome for a team that posted one of the best point differentials in recent NBA history during the regular season. The Bucks had gone from wily upstart to paper tiger in less than 18 months.
The hitch? Difficulty finding shots against well-drawn playoff defenses -- specifically The Wall erected by defenses to contain Antetokounmpo, particularly late in games, by situating multiple defenders across a good length of the floor to cut off his incursions into the paint.
Antetokounmpo is a unique player, the game's best attacker in transition. In the half court, he's its best finisher against a compromised defense that has unwittingly yielded pockets of space for him to devour with a single dribble. When he gets the ball below the foul line, his incredibly long stride can vault him to the rim with ease.
While nothing about the dimensions of the court or the rules that govern it change in the closing minutes of a tight game, the conditions do. Whether it's best practice is debatable, but teams want to avoid a turnover above all else and place the ball in the hands of a single player and allow him to go to work. Sometimes that ball handler will get a high screen from a teammate -- as Middleton did with Lopez at the end of Game 1 -- but frequently he'll attack in isolation. Either way, the mandate is clear: Find a good shot -- and make it.
In this specific scenario, Antetokounmpo's few shortcomings can become liabilities. His jump shot lacks proficiency, as does his foul shooting. He's a "No. 1" with key minuses. Our conception of a No. 1 in the NBA -- the guy who traditionally takes that shot -- relies on certain assumptions of comportment (the alpha), shot-making (the killer) and a certain kind of stage presence (you know it when you see it).
On the surface, Middleton doesn't convey any of it, but look carefully and you'll see the anatomy of a closer: the guy who can manufacture any shot against any defender and who demands multiple defenders late. A decision-maker with poise and judgment. A chip on his shoulder, even if it doesn't manifest itself with primal screams and death stares at the opposing bench.
Windows open gradually in the NBA, but they can shut rapidly. To turn their aspirations into reality, the Bucks need a lot more along the lines of what they got from Middleton in Game 1 of the Miami series to continue their playoff run. The road to the Finals is considerably more difficult this season. The Bucks don't have the benefit of the No. 1 seed. There's the assembly of a superteam in Brooklyn and an improved Philadelphia team. Above all, they'll have to do something they've yet to accomplish against elite teams deeper into the playoffs -- crack the code against The Wall, postseason edition.
Khris Middleton might just have the combination.