By Jason Gay

The big guy has a mean streak.

Victor Wembanyama had already shown a certain, competitive edginess, but his temper was confirmed several nights ago, in Game 4 of the Western Conference semifinals, when the frustrated, 7-foot-4ish Frenchman cocked an elbow at Minnesota center Naz Reid -- and drove it straight into Reid's throat.

Ugly, to be sure. An elbow like that would've gotten you tossed from a contest in 1967, 1977 or '97 -- it likely would have triggered a multi-body brawl, too -- and it sure isn't allowed in today's NBA.

Wembanyama was rightly kicked out of the game, which Minnesota wound up winning over Wemby's shorthanded San Antonio Spurs to even the series at 2-2.

Regrettable? Sure. A loss of composure? You bet. A young player's costly mistake in what is still a close series? That, too.

And yet also: a message. A declaration from basketball's greatest sensation that he has limits, and won't be provoked, poked, and pushed around.

Because that's what gets done to the biggest guys -- they are badgered, bullied, and banged around, with the hope the referees ignore a lot of the contact, because the big guy just is too big. Turn that height advantage into a hindrance. The Timberwolves bragged about it after winning Game 1, that they took the rock straight at Wemby, and despite a spectacular 12 blocks (an NBA record), they succeeded in pulling away.

It looked like a clever plan. Minnesota had already eliminated the game's premier center, Denver's Nikola Jokic, in the opening playoff round. Backing down is not the Wolves' style.

Wembenyama responded by coolly meeting the moment. On Tuesday he returned for Game 5 -- he was not suspended, as some had theorized he would be -- and delivered a staggering night, throwing down 27 points with 17 rebounds to give the Spurs a victory and a 3-2 series lead.

Entering Friday's Game 5, the Spurs are one win away from an irresistible showdown with defending champ Oklahoma City.

"The one word I'd like to use [is] 'mature,'" San Antonio coach Mitch Johnson said after the game. It was an interesting choice to describe a player who'd unravelled a few nights before, but it felt like the correct read.

By now you've read 40 different versions of the "Victor Wembanyama Has Arrived" story, but this week has felt like a breakthrough. An MVP candidate has come of age on the biggest stage, delivering numbers, highlights, and importantly, attitude, and putting the rest of the league on permanent notice.

This is a useful menace going forward, a signal to think twice. Wembanyama entered the NBA as a tantalizing mystery, this multilingual polymath international with spectacular height and a point guard's ball handling.

Wemby spoke quietly. He played chess and read books. We still don't know exactly how tall he is; big men are notorious about revealing their true measurements. There are times, especially on defense, when he wraps an opponent's layup like an octopus, that Wembanyama looks an easy 8 feet.

Still, it wasn't hard to look at that long, lean body and wonder if it was rugged enough for the NBA. It was admirable that Wemby played chess and devoured paperbacks, but what was going to happen in crunch time, when an opponent socked him in the gut and tried to shake him?

He is in the right university. San Antonio has a history, a culture, and a method, especially with big men. Wembanyama has been cultivated but not rushed. He missed a chunk of last season treating a diagnosis of deep vein thrombosis and the Spurs didn't overreact. His minutes remain rationed -- he played fewer than 30 per game this season.

This is the right way of doing it. Basketball is harsh on its youngest stars -- multi-billion dollar franchises entrusted to people not old enough to order a glass of Beaujolais. San Antonio prefers a slower burn. Look at Wembanyama's rookie teammate Dylan Harper Jr., installed as a low-pressure fourth or even fifth option, now accelerating into one of the game's most electric talents.

Wemby has soaked up all that Spurs discipline and wisdom. One of the first people to greet him upon returning from his Game 4 ejection was San Antonio coach emeritus Gregg Popovich, who continues to recover from a stroke, but serves as the franchise's resident Kenobi.

"When he speaks, everybody listens," Wemby said of the 77-year-old Pop.

Wembanyama is his own man, too. Last summer he riveted the internet with eccentric scenes of martial arts training with Shaolin monks in China, his head shaved in solidarity. He has shown an interest, perhaps un-Spurs-like, in seizing mantles like league MVP and being the future "face" of the sport. He wants all of it.

He's a more emotional player than originally presumed. Big men can exist above the cloudline, apart from the rest of us. Wemby does not. He gets ticked off, too. He gets even.

This is good for basketball. Victor Wembanyama remains the future. But he's not fooling around, either.

Email: jason.gay@wsj.com

(END) Dow Jones Newswires

May 14, 2026 08:00 ET (12:00 GMT)