The Suns Might Be Stuck Until Their Stars Figure Out How To Finish

The Phoenix Suns come limping home after a long, arduous road trip. When their plane lifted off from Sky Harbor, they were 37–27, sitting 1.5 games back of the seventh seed in the Western Conference. By the time they touched back down, they were 39–31, now 3 games back of that same spot, a subtle shift in the standings that carries a heavier weight when you feel everything that happened in between.  There are plenty of reasons why, and the context matters.

This is a team that spent the entire trip without Dillon Brooks and Mark Williams, two starters who anchor both ends of the floor in different ways, and their absence was felt in the margins, in the rotations, and in the moments where you need stability and instead are searching for answers. Sprinkle in games where Grayson Allen could not go, add in the fact that Royce O’Neale, who had been a constant presence all season, missed time as well, and you start to see the shape of it. The continuity was not there. The availability was not there. The rhythm never had a chance to fully settle in.

Health has been an issue. It is not the only issue, but it is the one that keeps showing up, the one that keeps nudging everything else slightly off balance, the one that forces adjustments that are necessary but rarely ideal. And when you are navigating that over the course of a six-game road trip, it compounds. It stretches you thin. It asks players to take on roles they are still growing into, and it tests how sustainable your identity really is.

The result? A 2–4 trip that feels like it could have been more, but also one that tells a deeper story about where this team is right now, and what it is still trying to figure out as it heads home.

One of the primary reasons the Suns did not fare better on this road trip is simple: if this team wants to be better, Devin Booker has to be better late in games.

When you look at the last four games Phoenix has played, Booker has struggled in the fourth quarter, and the reason is not hard to find. Opposing defenses know exactly where the pressure point is. With so many rotation players unavailable, it becomes much easier to load up on him, to send extra bodies, to crowd his space, and to force somebody else to beat you. That is the tax of being the engine. That is the burden of being the one every defense circles before the game even tips.

You could see it clearly against San Antonio. Spurs head coach Mitch Johnson made the plan obvious: blitz everything until the ball ends up in Rasheer Fleming’s hands. That strategy worked. Fleming missed the free throws, Wemby hit the game-winner, and Phoenix walked away with another late-game lesson and another loss that felt avoidable.

Boston had a similar rhythm, only Phoenix played into it.

The Suns were so committed to getting Booker the ball late that they kept initiating actions in ways that made life easier for the Celtics’ defense. Jaylen Brown and Payton Pritchard were draped all over him possession after possession, and still Phoenix kept trying to force the offense through that same point of attack. The result was an offense that stalled out completely, allowing Boston to close the game on a 12-1 run and turn a competitive finish into another frustrating collapse.

Three nights prior, Toronto followed a familiar script. Booker is the driver of the offense, so naturally the Suns kept trying to put the ball in his hands and let him organize the late-game attack. Some poor officiating played its part, sure, but the larger issue remained the same. Phoenix became too predictable, too dependent on one initiation point, and when the resistance tightened, the offense did not have enough counters to survive it. The game slipped. Then it was gone.

That is three of the four losses on this trip. Because of late-game execution, because of predictable offense, and because of an inability to adapt quickly enough when teams made Booker the entire focus of their defensive plan. The only loss that does not really fit that description is Minnesota, which felt less like a choke and more like a team running out of answers.

And that is where the frustration should live. Not in the idea that Booker is incapable, because he is not. Not in pretending he is the only problem, because he is not. But if Phoenix wants to climb out of this lane it keeps drifting into, its best player has to find a way to be sharper, calmer, and more effective when defenses inevitably come hunting for him late. That is what stars are asked to solve. That is what this version of the Suns keeps running into.

So yes, there is some real cause and effect here. When there is no proper release valve around Devin Booker, it becomes harder to expect him to operate cleanly. Defenses know where the play is headed. They know who matters most. They know where to send the extra attention. That context is real, and it matters. At the same time, two things can be true. He is your max player. He is the one who is supposed to rise above moments like this and execute.

One way to create cleaner offense for Booker, especially against teams with high defensive IQ, is to place him in secondary and tertiary actions within the same possession, allowing the defense to shift first, allowing the floor to bend a little, and then giving him a better chance to either get to a clean look or create a positive possession. We saw some of that on the trip, and it worked at times. It is a smart adjustment. It is a necessary adjustment.

It also should not be necessary every single time.

Because when you watch other teams late in close games, their primary offensive players still get the ball and still make things happen. Phoenix is not some broken defensive team either. They sit 10th in defensive rating, and yet the Suns still watched Jaylen Brown score 18 points in the fourth quarter, Julius Randle put up 11, and Wemby deliver 9, including the buzzer beater. Those players were not hidden away in secondary actions all night, hoping the defense might forget about them. They got the ball, they handled the pressure, and they executed.

That is the standard.

Yes, I think it is a good idea to avoid force-feeding Booker late to the point that opposing defenses can load up on him and choke off the entire possession before it starts. That part is basketball survival. That part is smart. But it also should not have to live there permanently. At some point, your best player has to be able to take the ball in those moments, see the coverage, absorb the pressure, and still deliver. That is what this league asks of stars. That is what Phoenix needs from Devin Booker.

When you look at Devin Booker’s fourth quarter production over the last four games, the problem becomes pretty clear. He is averaging 5.0 points, but doing it on 35.3% shooting. He has not hit a three. His assist-to-turnover ratio sits at -0.6, and he is a -17 in plus/minus. That is the part of the story that keeps showing up late, and it is hard to ignore.

What makes it feel so strange is everything else he is doing.

Over those same four games, Booker is second in the NBA in scoring at 31.8 points per game. He has poured in 127 total points, yet only 20 of them have come in the fourth quarter. So the scoring volume is there. The aggression is there. The burden is certainly there. But when games tighten, when the floor shrinks, when defenses stop messing around and start sending real pressure, that is where Phoenix has needed more from its best player.

In short, when the defenses get tougher, Devin Booker has to get tougher. That is the blunt truth. It feels weird saying considering that Booker has been one tough son of a bitch this season, but to be the best, you have to rise above what the opposition is attempting to do to you.

Now, there is context here, and it should not be ignored. He is missing key pieces around him, and that absolutely affects what late-game offense looks like. The spacing changes, the counters change, and the trust points in a possession change. But one of the biggest issues hurting Phoenix right now is that there has been no real release valve in the form of Jalen Green.

Green has scored 81 points over the last four games, which looks good at a glance, until you see where those points are coming from. 55 of them have come in the first half. That is where the split gets interesting and troubling. In the first half, Green is shooting 45.8% from the field and 42.9% from beyond the arc. Once the second half arrives, and especially as the game leans into winning time, his production falls off a cliff. During this losing stretch, he is shooting 26.5% from the field and 20% from deep after halftime.

So Booker is carrying the early burden and fading late. Green is contributing early and disappearing later. And when both of those trends hit in the same game, Phoenix runs into the exact problem that has defined so much of this road trip, an offense that can survive for long stretches, but not always close. That is where the Suns keep getting stuck.

So again, two things can be true at once.

Devin Booker has to be better in the fourth quarter, especially when you are measuring him against the opposing team’s best players, the ones who are stepping into those same moments and delivering. And Jalen Green has to do his part to make life easier on Booker, to be a real threat that defenses have to respect when the game tightens. Because right now, that balance is not there. During this losing stretch, Green is shooting 14.3% from beyond the arc in the fourth quarter, and when that shot is not falling, it allows defenses to stay locked in on Booker without fear of being punished.

Yes, context exists. Yes, injuries have reshaped what this team looks like on a nightly basis. But that is part of the league. That is part of every season. Champions adjust. They find solutions within the reality in front of them. They do not wait for perfect conditions to execute.

Phoenix is not there yet. Not this season.

But what you are looking for is the beginning of those habits. The ability to recognize what defenses are doing, to counter it in real time, and to execute with purpose when the game is on the line. This road trip, frustrating as it may feel, offered plenty of those moments. Moments where the Suns were tested. Moments where they came up short. Moments that can either sit with you or sharpen you. The hope is they choose the latter.

Because if they do, these losses stop being empty. They start becoming part of something, small steps that, over time, can turn nights like these into something different when it matters most.