AP Images/Getty Images/Ringer illustration Once miscast as a no. 1 option, Gordon has turned himself into a supercharged role player who can fill the gaps around Nikola Jokic and Jamal Murray. "There are only two positions in basketball: on the floor and off the floor," he says. "And I like being on the floor." As Anthony Edwards stood to exit the press conference stage, his eyes drifted down to the box score in front of him, and the full accounting of the Minnesota Timberwolves' Game 4 loss to the Denver Nuggets. The reigning champions had just carried out a full-scale deconstruction of the best defense in the league. It was ruthless. Systematic. Denver had carved out quality shot after quality shot to make an even series out of near disaster. Yet even as Edwards began to walk away from it all, his neck craned back to the box score. "Aaron Gordon," he muttered, shaking his head. Even to one of the league's most staggering talents, Gordon's contribution seemed beyond belief. It wasn't just the 27 points—more than any Timberwolf besides Edwards—but also the near-perfect shooting, the pressure of the occasion, the sheer range of it all. Teams like Minnesota pour so much into...