Outside of being a rodeo clown or a member of the Chicago White Sox, there’s arguably no worse gig in sports than being LeBron James’ second-best teammate. It’s a thankless role, one that exists within a narrow range of outcomes: James either carries you or is failed by you. In Miami, Chris Bosh sacrificed his All-NBA prime so that he could focus on playing exhausting defense and spacing the floor; Kevin Love has never fully recovered from the trauma of trying to fit in. Now, it’s D’Angelo Russell’s turn to drink from The King’s poisoned chalice.
Since rejoining the Los Angeles Lakers at the 2023 trade deadline, Russell has been a galvanizing force by being a stabilizing one. Whereas the Lakers were a tinderbox of bad play and worse feelings with Russell Westbrook running point, Russell allowed them to be a normal basketball team that plays good basketball.
Over the last two years, the Lakers have won 62 percent of their 93 games with Russell and just 42 percent of their 62 without him. During that same time frame, the Lakers have outscored opponents by 4.62 points per 100 possessions with Russell on the court, but been outscored by 1.82 points per 100 possessions without him. At the risk of oversimplifying things, Russell’s impact represents the difference between the Lakers being the Knicks and being the Bulls.
On the court, Russell is a study in control, both of the ball and of himself. Even if his 18.0 points and 6.3 assists per game seem somewhat pedestrian, he’s one of the most skilled guards in the league; the ball goes where he wants it to go. More and more, people (people, meaning Russell himself) are saying that he’s an elite shooter whose versatility and marksmanship are rivaled only by Stephen Curry and Damian Lillard. Last season, Russell was one of just five players to score more than 400 points on both catch-and-shoot and pull-up jumpers.
Beyond his perimeter shooting, Russell excels in all the areas where point guards are expected to excel. As a pick-and-roll ball-handler, he scored 5.6 points per game, the most on the team; his 3:1 assist to turnover ratio was also the best on the team. With the ball in his hands, Russell rejects the typical vocabulary of basketball. He doesn’t slash or glide; he oozes. He finagles. In the pick and roll, he lazes a trail around screens, maneuvering into the heart of unaware defenses; he finds space to launch a jumper like a cat settling down in a sunbeam.
Still, Russell has been a disaster in the playoffs. In the first round last year, Russell averaged just 14.2 points per game on 48.1 percent True Shooting, which somehow represented an upgrade from the 13.3 points (on 51.6 percent True Shooting) that he averaged in the 2023 playoffs. Facing the very best defenders, Russell is too slow and too slender to pose too many problems. Even during the regular season, Russell doesn’t so much create shots as find them, plucking the low-hanging fruit that permissive mid-January defenses leave for him. Against postseason defenses, though, he can’t muster the required dynamism—his open shots become contested ones, his contested ones are completely snuffed out.
More, Russell loses his purpose in the playoffs. During the regular season, Russell serves a necessary function as James’s spotter; James is too old to marshall every possession, so Russell’s ability to keep the offense afloat across 82 games is very valuable. In the playoffs, Russell is shunted to the periphery as James reasserts his primacy. When James and Anthony Davis are at the center of every play, Russell is unnecessary.
For whatever reason, Russell hasn’t yet figured out how to complement James. Theoretically, they should be an easy fit—both can capably pass, dribble and shoot; they threaten defenses in different ways and occupy different spaces on the court. It’s easy to imagine them bouncing off each other like a Pacific coast version of Nikola Jokic and Jamal Murray, pushing defenses to their breaking point with their collective smarts and skill.
In this sense, Russell is an avatar for the complications of building around late-stage James: the players James needs to make the playoffs aren’t necessarily the same ones who can help him win once he gets there. Across the season, it’s probably smart to find ways to preserve James by taking the ball out of his hands when possible. In a single game, you should probably give the ball to James and get out of his way.
As such, Russell has a difficult job because he has two different identities, depending on the day. He’s James’ partner and his lackey; he’s the midpoint between frontman and footman. Co-star or bit part? For the Lakers to not squander LeBron's final years, Russell has to be comfortable as both.