DeRozan Solves the Problem Denver Didn't Actually Have

Peyton Watson averaged 14.2 points on 49.2 percent shooting across 59 games last season. That's a real number, and losing it matters. But here's the thing about Denver's first-round collapse against Minnesota: it wasn't a perimeter creation problem. It was a pressure problem — one that showed up in the box score long before the playoffs arrived.

In the final ten games of the regular season, Jamal Murray took nearly three more shots per game than his seasonal norm and made them at a rate that would embarrass a backup. His field goal percentage fell from 48.4 percent to 39.5 percent as volume climbed. Jokic did the same thing simultaneously — more attempts, sharply worse results, efficiency dropping nearly seven percentage points from his earlier-season baseline. Denver went 10-0 in that stretch, so nobody panicked. They should have. Two stars pressing harder and converting less in the games that were supposed to be a warm-up for the playoffs is not a rhythm problem you solve by adding a veteran wing scorer.

Which brings us to DeMar DeRozan. The six-time All-Star is a legitimate creator — a player whose mid-range game and late-clock composure are genuinely valuable, and whose playoff experience is the kind of thing you can't manufacture on a roster full of young contributors. The one-year, $3.9 million deal is the definition of low-risk. I'm not here to argue Denver made a bad signing. I'm here to argue that the signing addresses a symptom while the disease goes untreated.

The actual problem behind the Minnesota loss was execution in high-leverage moments, and the number that defines Denver's ceiling going into 2026-27 isn't DeRozan's scoring average — it's the 16-13 record in games decided by five points or fewer. A team that won 55 games and finished with the West's best record fell apart in close games at a rate that doesn't match the rest of their résumé. DeRozan improves the perimeter. He does nothing for the structural question of what happens when the game is tight and Jokic has been on the floor for 34 minutes and there's nobody behind him who can hold the position.

Jonas Valanciunas is gone — in Zalgiris Kaunas now, which is a long way from the Pepsi Center. His departure matters less because of his season averages and more because of what happened to him at the end: when his usage spiked in his final ten games, his field goal percentage fell from 61.8 to 51.5 percent. He was already cracking under expanded load before he left. That's the honest state of Denver's center depth — a backup who was deteriorating under pressure, now replaced by nothing. Jokic played 34.5 minutes per game last season. In a playoff series where the opponent game-plans specifically to make him work, there is no margin. There is no one behind him.

My read is that Denver's front office understands this. Jokic deferring his extension until 2027 buys time, and the aggressive reconfiguration this offseason — Watson out, DeRozan in, Walker signed, Spencer Jones retained — suggests a front office that knows it is in a window and is spending accordingly. But windows close on roster construction, not on narrative. DeRozan makes Denver better on the perimeter. The position that will actually determine whether this team can survive a second-round series remains exactly as exposed as it was the day Valanciunas boarded a flight to Lithuania.