The Suns lose a winnable game as another officiating controversy looms

Last night’s game in New Orleans was another frustrating chapter for the Phoenix Suns. Sure, the Pelicans got a much-needed boost with the return of Brandon Ingram and Herb Jones to the lineup, a luxury we can only dream of since our starters can never share the court due to injuries. But despite that caveat, facing a 4-18 team was the Suns’ best chance to get a win on this road trip.

Instead, in classic Suns fashion, they coughed up possession, played defense as porous as Swiss cheese in the third quarter, and ultimately fell short in a 126-124 loss.

I’m not here to apologize or misbehave. The Suns weren’t robbed. They did this to themselves. They turned a winnable game into a scramble, forcing Devin Booker to hit a 26-foot 3-pointer in the final seconds, only for it to be knocked away by Herb Jones.

You never want to leave your fate to the officials, or in this case, to desperation. This should have been a game where they took care of business, boarded their flight to South Beach, and enjoyed a well-deserved Friday in Miami.

Despite all of this, the referees were once again too afraid to blow the whistle on the final play, in which Devin Booker was clearly fouled by Herb Jones.

I’m not a civil servant and can’t pretend to understand the stress that comes with the job. But I’d like to think I know a foul when I see one.

If Herb Jones reaches into the cookie jar and gets caught, shouldn’t the whistle blow? He clearly hindered Devin Booker’s progress on a play where Book was doing everything right. Booker felt Jones squeeze his hips and deftly crossed back over the ball, knowing that the defender’s proximity would inevitably lead to contact. And in fact it did.

Jones literally grabs Booker by the wrist. It appears in the margins.

In the eyes of the NBA? No foul, I guess.

“Looking back, I really should have kept going,” Booker said after the game. “I’m trying to go back and… yeah.”

“We’ll also see what the two-minute report says,” Booker added.

The final two-minute reports came out and officials granted clemency for the contact.

“Jones (NOP) extends his hand toward the ball and makes minor contact with Booker’s (PHX) right arm after returning his dribble to his left hand.” CNC. Correct No Call.

I’ve climbed on this soapbox before and here I am again. After the loss to the Minnesota Timberwolves, we learned through the NBA’s final two-minute report that Julius Randle was on the move before sinking a game-winning shot over Josh Okogie, which he also pushed aside for good measure. It was a gut punch back then, and here we are dealing with the same frustrating patterns again. As a fan of the game, it’s insane and disheartening to watch these moments continue to unfold.

What’s even more daunting? I can’t think of a single case recently where the pendulum has swung the other way and the Suns have actually benefited from the mistakes of someone who was paid at least $150,000 a year to operate with precision. It’s always a bitter pill to swallow.

This play couldn’t have been clearer: Booker was fouled.

This wasn’t an inconspicuous brawl that couldn’t be seen. The entire arena was fixated on the contact between these two players. A bump. A wrist grip. Your reward, Mr. Herb Jones? We give you a block and a win. Let’s go to Bourbon Street!

Maybe Booker needs to take a page from the rest of the league and start screaming at every touch to get the refs’ attention. Or maybe he should grow his hair out like Jalen Brunson, braid it, and flip his head back on contact to earn the “Brunson Whistle.” Apparently, the foul on Booker just isn’t dramatic enough – visually or audibly – to force the referees to muster the energy to blow their whistles.

To be clear: I’m not saying the Suns were robbed. Booker should never have been in this situation to begin with.

But I will say this: Officiating remains a glaring issue in the NBA. And by glaring I mean the atomic bomb in the face, blindingly obvious. It’s not just the missed calls during the game; It’s the smug lack of responsibility after the fact, the refusal to admit mistakes with the slightest semblance of humility.

This is an egregious abuse of unchecked power, and we, the fans, must pay the price – both financially through ticket sales and emotionally – as we endure the mental gymnastics of watching such incompetence unfold again and again.