0-for-7 in the Fourth: How Bad Is Jayson Tatum in the Clutch, Really?

Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals was supposed to be business as usual for the Boston Celtics. Coming in with a perfect 4-0 regular season record against the New York Knicks, the No. 1 seed in the East looked poised to steamroll a team that had yet to notch a single win this year against any of the NBA’s elite. The Knicks went 0-10 against the league’s top three teams in the regular season — 0-4 vs. Boston, 0-3 vs. Oklahoma City, and 0-3 vs. Cleveland. No wins, no hope… at least on paper.

And for two and a half quarters, reality matched expectations. Boston led by as many as 20 points, up 75-55 midway through the third, and their win probability peaked at a seemingly unshakeable 98.3%. Then, the game flipped.

In a span of less than 12 minutes of game time, the Knicks uncorked a stunning 31-11 run, erasing that 20-point deficit and pushing the game into overtime. There, they sealed a 108-105 win, stealing home-court advantage and injecting real uncertainty into what was supposed to be a Celtics-dominated series.

Yes, Kristaps Porzingis being sidelined due to illness hurt. His absence left the Celtics smaller and more vulnerable in the paint. But this game wasn’t lost because Boston missed their big man — it was lost because their shooting completely fell off a cliff. The Celtics shot just 34-for-97 from the field (35.1%) and a historically woeful 15-for-60 from three-point range (25%).

Sixty threes. That shattered the previous playoff record of 58 (set by the Daryl Morey-era Rockets). But it wasn't just the volume — it was the 45 misses, a new all-time playoff record for most missed threes in a single game. For a team that lives and dies by the three, Game 1 was a slow, painful death by brick.

Still, despite all the missed shots, Boston only lost by three. That, in a sense, is a testament to their depth and defense. It’s also why, despite being down 0-1, they remain favorites in the series. But if you zoom in on the final minutes — on the clutch moments — you’ll see a persistent, troubling pattern. And its name is Jayson Tatum.

Let’s talk about the fourth quarter.

Tatum, Boston’s franchise player and All-NBA staple, was invisible when it mattered most. In the fourth, he went 0-for-7 from the field. Two measly points came from free throws. Of those seven shots, five were threes, and four of them came from the exact same spot on the floor — all misses. There were no adjustments, no counterpunch, just stubborn repetition and cold shooting. The guy looked less like a superstar and more like a broken record.

This isn’t new.

In fact, this exact scenario has haunted Tatum throughout his career. Despite gaudy regular-season stats — 26.8 points, 8.7 rebounds, 6.0 assists this season — Tatum shrinks in crunch time. In the first round of these playoffs, he had three 35+ point games, but when the game tightened in the final five minutes with a margin of five or less, he was 1-for-8 from the field. That’s a 12.5% field goal percentage, with zero threes made on four attempts.

Go back to the regular season: in 30 “clutch” games by NBA definition, Tatum averaged just 3.0 points per game, shooting 42.7% from the field, 19.4% from three, and — most shockingly — only 65.6% from the free-throw line. All marks well below his season averages.

Even last year, during Boston’s championship run, the clutch numbers were horrendous. In six clutch playoff games, he averaged just 2.7 points, shooting 29.4% from the field and 14.3% from three. The Celtics may have won the title, but Tatum didn’t walk away with any Finals MVP or even an Eastern Conference Finals MVP. He left that door open, and guys like Jaylen Brown and Derrick White nearly kicked it down.

It’s a recurring image for Celtics fans: Tatum dribbling into a contested pull-up three, even with time on the clock, even when the defense is loaded up. The shot clanks off the rim. He jogs back, expression unreadable, as the other team surges. There's no improvisation, no attacking mismatches, no foul-drawing craftiness. Just isolation and hope.

In Game 1 against New York, the comparison to Jalen Brunson was hard to ignore. While Tatum froze in the fourth, Brunson thrived, again proving why he was named this season’s Clutch Player of the Year. Calm, deliberate, methodical — he’s the kind of player you trust in the chaos. In many ways, Brunson reminded Boston fans of a different thorn in their side: Jimmy Butler, the Eastern Conference ghost who tormented the Celtics in past playoff runs with clutch bucket after clutch bucket.

Here’s the cold truth: Tatum is one of the best players in the league from minutes 1 through 43. But from 44 to 48 — and beyond — he’s often a liability. And that’s a big problem for a team with championship aspirations.

This isn’t to say that Boston is doomed. The Celtics are deep, experienced, and incredibly well-coached. They have the best net rating in the league, one of the best starting fives in basketball, and enough two-way versatility to go toe-to-toe with any team. And Tatum, for all his late-game flaws, is still the heartbeat of the team — their best scorer, rebounder, and arguably their best defender when he locks in.

But elite players — real alphas — make their names in the clutch. They don’t just score 35 in blowouts or cook bench units in the second quarter. They bury teams with two minutes left. They break defenses that are scheming everything to stop them. They demand the ball and deliver.

So far, Tatum hasn’t shown he can be that guy when it matters most. And the frustrating part is that he has all the tools: the footwork, the length, the strength, the handle, the shooting touch. But in the biggest moments, he either overthinks, defaults to lazy threes, or simply disappears.

Game 1 wasn’t an anomaly. It was a magnifying glass.

And with Porzingis uncertain for the near future, Boston might need Tatum to play more small-ball five, to facilitate even more offense, to be even more of everything. That’s a tall ask — but not one that should scare a legit MVP candidate.

Yet here we are, still asking the same question, year after year: When the game is on the line, can Tatum deliver?

The rest of this series — and possibly the Celtics' season — may depend on the answer.

Parting Shot:
In crunch time, you either evolve or evaporate. Jayson Tatum has spent too long somewhere in between.