Down by 29, OKC said “nah” and reverse Uno’d the Grizzlies to snatch Game 3, 114-108 — all without Ja’s dance moves.
If you turned off this game when the Grizzlies were up 77-51 at halftime, first of all: how dare you. Second: congrats, you missed the greatest playoff heist since Ray Allen’s Game 6 miracle. The Thunder pulled off a 29-point comeback like they were casually flipping pancakes — and yes, they even flipped Memphis’ playoff momentum straight into the recycling bin.
Shai Gilgeous-Alexander wasn’t just clutch — he was legally obligated to register as a fourth-quarter menace. The man dropped 31 like he found them in a clearance bin and decided to take ’em all. Jalen Williams looked like he drank prime Russell Westbrook juice pregame, torching the court for 26 points with a side of swagger. And Chet Holmgren? Chet showed up in the second half like he respawned with cheat codes — 23 of his 24 came after halftime. Load management? Nah. This was soul management.
Meanwhile, Memphis came out swinging. Scotty Pippen Jr. (yes, that one’s kid) was cooking early with 28 points, and Jaren Jackson Jr. added 22, looking like the “triple J” from his All-Star mixtape. They built a massive lead, vibes were immaculate, fans were tweeting “GRIZZ IN 6” like it was prophecy.
Then… tragedy struck. Ja Morant, mid-air hip twister and Memphis messiah, went out with a hip injury before halftime. The entire arena felt like it got unplugged. And so did the Grizzlies. From up 29 to outscored by a G-League team on Red Bull.
By the final minutes, OKC had not just clawed back — they were bullying. Memphis didn’t score a single point in the last 4:51. That’s not a drought, that’s a desert. You could practically hear the tumbleweeds blowing across Beale Street.
Now the Thunder are up 3-0 in the series, holding the controller, and Memphis is stuck on the “continue?” screen. Game 4’s coming, but unless Ja shows up in a WWE-style surprise return, this might be the last song of the Grizzlies’ playoff mixtape.
Moral of the story: never count out a team full of skinny assassins with nothing to lose. And maybe don’t let a 7-foot skeleton in a headband drop 23 on you in one half.
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