Let’s start in a place of truth and vulnerability: I have no idea what to make of Zion Williamson. Six years into a career that was once destined to redefine the laws of gravity, disappointment and dominance are inextricably linked in ways that overshadow each other, depending on the day.
Half a decade of highs and lows—he’s missed 208 games in his career, including Sunday’s loss to the Hawks—have formed a messy juxtaposition that’s hard to untangle. Is he a fading revelation? A victim of unfortunate circumstances who was drafted by an organization that’s forever unable to accentuate his gifts or hide his flaws? A 24-year-old colossus who sits on the doorstep of becoming a household name thanks to athletic gifts that few in basketball history have ever possessed? Or, considering all the hype and attention Williamson’s basked in since day one, is he simply not as disruptive as everyone thought he would be?
All those questions may be answered sooner rather than later, in what feels like a make-or-break season for Zion’s on-court reputation. After a season in which he missed only a dozen games but didn’t come particularly close to cracking the All-Star or All-NBA team, we may be nearing a stage in his career when his availability is no longer the most appropriate way to frame the talking points, excuses, and criticism around him. Instead, it’s probably more relevant to explore whether Zion is productive enough to be a franchise player at all, injured or not.
Zion should be competing for scoring titles and MVP trophies. His impact could be priceless. His ceiling is too high. He has too many alluring idiosyncrasies to get bogged down by his fragility and fatigue. But potential is not a promise. If this year he can’t thrive as the steady, organization-elevating presence the Pelicans believe he is, it may soon be time for them to reckon with some hard truths and ask some excruciating questions. The most fundamental being: Can they win at the highest level with such a titanic albeit unreliable centerpiece?
This isn’t entirely a reaction to the Pelicans’ tepid start. Dejounte Murray, Herb Jones, CJ McCollum, and Trey Murphy are all injured. Sample sizes are small, and when Williamson is on the court, the Pelicans hardly ever feature the same amount of spacing that other stars around the league enjoy. But despite all that, his up-and-down start can’t be ignored. He’s had a few flashy moments, but Zion is averaging just 21.4 points per game while shooting an impossibly low 44.2 percent from the floor. Not great. Even worse, so far, only 54 percent of his shots have been at the rim, down from 69 percent last year and 81 percent during his sophomore (and by far best) season. His 14.4 points in the paint per game are way down from last season’s 17.6 and 2021’s league-best (and absurd) 20.3.
It’s challenging to make any declarations about the former no. 1 pick without your mind quickly wandering in search of a caveat. From quarter to quarter, even play to play, Williamson can go from doing something you’ve never seen before in one moment to being curiously lethargic the next. His defense is, to be generous, a never-ending work in progress. There’s a chance—after several serious injuries suffered by a body that can’t reasonably endure any more strain than it already has—that he’s plateaued athletically and has a shot chart that limits whom he can play with and how he can attack.
The good news is that there’s no one quite like Zion when he gets going. He’s a point guard in a monster truck’s body, too fast for bigs, too strong for wings, too incomprehensible for the viewing audience whenever he catches a half-court lob several feet above the rim and then levitates in midair a beat longer than everyone around him, even though he’s usually the heaviest person on the court.
According to estimated plus-minus’s new algorithm, only five players rank above Williamson in predicted points per 100 possessions; all are MVP candidates. Since 2021, only three players have made more layups—a ridiculous stat when you remember that, um, he missed the entire 2021-22 season. To understand Zion is to grapple with a character who’s entirely anomalous. The NBA has no reference point for an explosive 6-foot-6, 280-plus-pound body. The pressure he puts on defensive schemes, whether he’s initiating a play or stamping an exclamation point on its end, is unprecedented.
Too often I’m guilty of considering Williamson in a theoretical sense. What he can be instead of who he is on a regular basis. My belief in his potential is not without evidence, though. Before he suffered a hamstring injury in the fourth quarter of last year’s play-in against the Los Angeles Lakers, Williamson finished that game—the most consequential in a career that’s never experienced the playoffs—with 40 points, 11 rebounds, and five assists in 37 minutes. It was an enthralling performance, especially this sound-barrier-breaking bull rush that ended the first half:
It was also a performance that the Pelicans waited five years to see. Now, we might wistfully, somewhat justifiably, wonder whether it’ll go down as the peak of his career. This is not an indictment of Zion’s talent. He can obviously make his third All-Star team this season. Few are more irrepressible at their peak.
With several of his most important teammates out of the lineup, the next few weeks will be a fascinating test for Williamson. Can he reassert himself as a palpable oddity who logs eye-popping numbers and leverages all the attention that defenses give him to prop everyone else up a level?
As someone whose on-court disposition toggles between exasperating lifelessness and abrupt fury, Zion must seize the opportunity before New Orleans’s playoff hopes go down the drain. This isn’t dramatic: A slow start in the Western Conference can end a season before it starts.
In an impressive 31-point showing against the Warriors last week, Williamson’s ability to create and make exceptionally difficult shots reaffirmed the limitless expectations that have surrounded him since he was introduced to the general public as a teenager. He attacked early and often, making immediate decisions and powerful bursts into the paint. That continued in a win over the Pacers last Friday night, when Zion had 34 points and 10 assists while shooting 70 percent from the floor. Indiana spent portions of the game guarding him with one defender (usually Myles Turner or Obi Toppin), which essentially confirmed what was already known to be a hopeless strategy.
He’s a willing passer—not enough can be said about his alert playmaking ability—and there are plenty of examples when Zion sees a wall, quickly moves the ball, and trusts teammates to exploit a compromised defense. (According to Sportradar, Indiana allowed a whopping 1.82 points per chance when its shell defense was compact—a.k.a. when it packed the paint.)
In crunch time, Williamson and Brandon Ingram shimmered in a two-man game that functioned in myriad ways all over the floor, whether Zion was setting an empty-corner drag screen or Ingram was at the right elbow, forcing the Pacers to make a difficult split-second decision as Zion came barreling into the paint with his left hand.
All of this is fantastic if you’re New Orleans. It’s also bittersweet and makes you wonder what this roster can be at full strength, with more spacing and live-dribble options. Whether he’s setting a ball screen or operating with a live dribble, Williamson’s power, speed, and gravity may just make some of those units unguardable.
At the same time, he isn’t a willing or able outside shooter, doesn’t make his free throws, and has to deal with defenders who regularly sag off him by several feet. We don’t know how that would translate in the playoffs because Williamson has literally never made it that far. But those exact limitations tend to be an Achilles’ heel in that type of environment.
It leads to predictability and a maddening internal conflict. Sometimes he’s too passive; sometimes he’s too obstinate and impatient, attacking a crowd that knows he wants to put his head down and forge ahead with his dominant hand. Per Sportradar, so far this season, Zion is tied for ending the most plays driving to his left, while a league-high 16 of his shots have been blocked. Striking that right balance isn’t easy, but the Pelicans need it every night. And at the end of the day, regardless of whatever unfortunate circumstance they find themselves in, that’s what superstars do. Soon enough, we’ll know whether Zion is one.