Things were good for the Lakers just a week ago

LOS ANGELES — The clock barely touched 16 seconds.

Sixteen.

That’s how long it took for the Los Angeles Lakers to fracture. 

Not their lead — they never had one. Not their playoff hopes — those were already solidified — but their landing spot is on life support. 

No, what shattered in those 16 seconds was something quieter. Something uglier. Something that happens when a team that was flying just seven days ago suddenly can’t breathe.

JJ Redick called a timeout. Pulled out his dry-erase board. And before he could draw a single line, Jarred Vanderbilt was in his face.

Right there. Near the free-throw line. Cameras rolling. 

Austin Reaves — in street clothes, oblique shredded, powerless — stepped between them. Nate McMillan, too. 

Assistant coaches. Players. 

A human wall built to separate a coach and his forward, both of them red-faced, both of them saying things that would live on every highlight reel from here to the playoffs.

“It’s nothing personal with him," Redick said. “Normal stuff from my end."

Normal. 

For a team that was 15-2 in March. 

For a team that was closing in on the third seed. 

For a team that had the league’s oldest superstar playing like the youngest — until he didn’t. 

Until Luka Dončić flew to Europe with a Grade 2 hamstring strain.  

Until Austin Reaves joined him on the sideline with an oblique that refused to heal. 

Until Marcus Smart limped.

Until Jaxson Hayes was scratched late, left foot soreness, a ghost scratch, the final domino.

And then LeBron James sat. Arthritic left foot. Rest. 

The King, resting.

So here they were. 

The Los Angeles Lakers. Pacific Division champions. Playoff-bound. 

And absolutely, completely, thunderously lost.

Jay-Z said it best. Said it twenty years ago, and it still cuts like a blade: “The reason why we lead the pack, this is a marathon. You start off fast then you wheezing in the back."

A week ago, the Lakers were sprinting. 

Fifteen wins in seventeen games, the third seed in their grasp. 

Dončić threw dimes. James dunked on Father Time. Reaves hit shots that made grown men cry. 

The whole city buzzed like a beehive kicked awake.

Now? Now they’re wheezing. 

The Lakers lost to Oklahoma City 123-87. 

The Thunder — defending champs, machine-like, merciless — voraciously consumed, no, they executed the Lakers. 

They hung 21 threes on a defense that looked like it had never met a closeout it liked. 

Isaiah Joe hit six of them. Jared McCain added three more. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander cruised to 25 points and eight assists like he was taking a morning jog.

And the Lakers? The Lakers scored their lowest point total of the season –– 87 points. 

Eighty-seven.

“We fought hard for basically 18 minutes," Redick admitted. “We were tied 42-42."

Then the wheels came off. 

Then the Thunder finished the half on a 23-5 run. Then the Lakers scored just 22 points over the next 24 minutes of basketball. 

22 points in half a game, that’s not a slump. That’s a disappearance.

Rui Hachimura scored 15 points. Drew Timme added 11 points. Adou Thiero — a rookie, career-high 10 points — played his heart out. 

But heart doesn’t matter when you’re missing 94.6 points per game from your starting lineup. 

Heart doesn’t matter when your coach is arguing with his forward sixteen seconds into the second quarter. 

Heart doesn’t matter when the defending champions decide it’s time to turn it up, and you have no answer.

But let’s rewind to those first 16 seconds.

Second quarter. Fresh off the break. Vanderbilt checks in. 

Sixteen seconds later — maybe two possessions, maybe less — Redick whistles the timeout. 

He doesn’t wait. 

Doesn’t deliberate. 

He points to Dalton Knecht. Tells the second-year guard to replace Vanderbilt.

Vanderbilt doesn’t walk to the bench. He walks to Redick. 

Straight line. No hesitation. 

And then the words start flying.

“I called a timeout to get him out of the game," Redick said. “And he reacted."

Reacted. 

That word is doing a lot of heavy lifting and carrying a lot of weight.

What did Vanderbilt say? 

No one’s saying. Not on the record. Not in the locker room — because Vanderbilt dressed and left before reporters ever got in. 

But the images tell the story. The pointing. The jawing. 

The way Reaves — injured, unavailable, but still present — wedged himself between his coach and his teammate. 

The way McMillan grabbed an arm. 

The whole bench became a buffer zone.

“Normal interaction for me," Redick said.

Normal. 

For a team that had just lost three straight. For a team that had lost two of those to the same opponent. For a team that watched its 15-2 March turn into a 0-3 April in the span of seven days.

Vanderbilt played five minutes, where he logged three points, two rebounds, one assist and one steal. He then sat the rest of the night and didn’t see the floor again.

“Again, nothing personal with him," Redick said. “But we’ve got to scrap and claw. We’ve got to all be on the same page. We’ve got to be great teammates. We’ve got to all play hard."

Scrap. Claw. Same page. Great teammates. Play hard. That’s five imperatives in one sentence. That’s a coach begging for cohesion from a team that’s coming apart at the seams.

Here’s what you need to understand about JJ Redick: he doesn’t wait.

He pulled Hachimura two minutes and 27 seconds into the first quarter. 

Two minutes. 

Hachimura had done something — didn’t do his job, Redick said — and the hook came that fast. 

In went Adou Thiero. Out went the veteran. 

No sentiment. No seniority. Just performance.

“I called the early timeout because Rui didn’t do his job," Redick said. “We’ve got to find nine guys that are all-in on us fighting."

Nine guys. Not fifteen. Not the whole roster. Nine. 

He’s looking for a playoff rotation. He’s looking for the ones who won’t break when the marathon gets hard.

Hachimura responded. Came back in. Finished with a team-high 15 points on 7-for-10 shooting. 

Didn’t talk to reporters afterward. Just dressed and left. 

Some guys fight with words. Some guys fight with silence.

Vanderbilt? He fought with volume. And then he fought from the bench. And then he fought from the parking lot.

“The seeding part probably went out the window after the OKC game," Redick said. That’s the closest he came to surrender.

 That’s the moment the coach looked at the standings — fourth place, tied with Denver but losing the tiebreaker, looking up at a Rockets team that won’t stop winning — and said, quietly, we’re not chasing anymore.

“We’ve got to prepare our team, our group that we’re going to have available to play in the playoff series," Redick said.

Translation: This is who we are now. Stop asking about who’s missing.

Timme didn’t know he’d be a story tonight. 

He’d been in the G League, working on his point guard skills with a coach named Zach, learning to bring the ball up. Learning to read defenses. Learning to be ready.

Then the phone rang.

“I haven’t really been around too much," Timme said. “But you got to find ways to still compete and battle. That’s all we can do."

Timme scored 11 points. 

He ran pick-and-roll with Luke Kennard. He drew Lou Dort — one of the best defenders in basketball — picking him up full court. 

He took it as a compliment.

“I’d say that’s quite the compliment that they had him pick me up full court," Timme said. “Zach helped prepare me for this moment."

Kennard, meanwhile, keeps showing layers no one knew he had –– sixteen rebounds against Dallas, nine assists against OKC. A shooting guard playing point guard against the defending champions. 

“Not bad," Kennard said. “Just trying to be poised. Under control."

Poised. Under control. Two words that described nothing about this game. Two words that felt like a prayer whispered in a burning building.

“The last few games we’re trying to find something that’ll work for us," Kennard said. “Carry it over to the playoffs."

Playoffs. 

They’re still saying that word. Still believing it. 

Even as the Thunder dropped 123. Even as the sideline boiled over. Even as LeBron sat in street clothes, foot wrapped, watching his team wheeze.

Here’s the thing about a marathon: it doesn’t care how fast you started.

It doesn’t care about your 15-2 March. Doesn’t care about your third-seed aspirations. Doesn’t care about your Luka or your Austin or your Marcus or your Jaxson or your LeBron. 

The marathon only cares who’s still standing at mile 26.

Right now, the Lakers are standing. Barely. But standing.

They have three games left. Golden State. Phoenix. Utah. 

Three chances to find those nine guys Redick keeps talking about. Three chances to remember how to play defense. Three chances to stop the bleeding before the playoffs swallow them whole.

Los Angeles will want to win two of the next three to put themselves in a good position.

Good position. Not great. Not ideal. Not what the Lakers dreamed about a week ago. 

Just good enough.

LeBron will be back. Probably. 

Marcus Smart might return. Maybe. 

But Luka is in Europe. Reaves is out for the regular season. Hayes is day-to-day. 

And the Thunder just reminded everyone what a real championship contender looks like.

They are a machine. They are what every team aspires to be.

The Lakers aspired to that a week ago. Before the injuries. Before the quarrel. Before the wheezing started.

Now they’re just trying to finish.

 Not first. Not third. Just finish.

Because in a marathon, that’s all that matters at the end.

You start off fast, then you wheezing in the back.

The Lakers are wheezing, but they’re still running.