The Misunderstanding of Khaman Maluach's Defense
More importantly, why it is really dumb of everyone to keep mocking him to the Wizards.
We need to talk about Khaman Maluach.
For a while, I avoided the conversation — partly because I never thought my beloved Wizards would be in a position to take him seriously. The fit didn’t make much sense, and in most mocks, Derik Queen was the more realistic first center off the board. But now? With Maluach firmly in lottery discussions, I’ve had to dig deeper. And it brought me to something I don’t think we’re talking about enough: his actual defensive value — not the projections, not the buzzwords — but what he is right now.
At 7'2" with a skyscraping wingspan, Maluach enters every scouting conversation draped in promise. You’ll hear the usual: rim protector, switchable, defensive ceiling, modern big. The problem? Most of that is theoretical. Built on projection. Not principle.
That doesn’t mean he’s a bad defender. But it does mean he’s being misunderstood — or more accurately, misapplied. The perception of Maluach as a versatile stopper is more about how he looks than how he moves. And if you really dive into the tape, especially at Duke, the story gets a lot murkier.
Duke had one of the best defenses in the country last year. But that success wasn’t built on individual brilliance — it was system-based. Great rotations, smart doubles on the perimeter, consistent communication. Within that system, Maluach wasn’t hidden — but he also wasn’t the backbone. He was more often the target. Teams tested him. Especially when pulled out of the paint.
People love to throw around that “switchable” tag. In practice, Maluach’s perimeter defense is a real issue. His hips are stiff, his recovery is labored, and he processes actions a step too late. The tools are there — but the instincts aren’t. Not yet.
When he’s defending in space, the cracks show. Quick guards punish his footwork. Screens force him into uncomfortable reads. He’s not getting burned every possession, but he’s not dictating anything either. In practice, it would lead to the concerns of foul trouble and specifically, would lead to instances of forced help defense from his counterparts — when ideally, Maluach is offering that service himself towards the rim. And for a projected defensive anchor, that matters.
One clip sticks out. In Duke’s tournament loss to Houston, Maluach switches onto Emmanuel Sharp and immediately gets beat. Cooper Flagg rotates over to help, but it’s too late — and Maluach gets whistled for the foul. It wasn’t just a bad possession. It was a microcosm: when forced to operate outside his comfort zone, his margin for error vanishes.
Even in the post, his defensive fundamentals are still raw. In a matchup against Tomislav Ivisic — not exactly a top-tier athlete — Maluach struggled. Ivisic won with positioning, pump fakes, and pace. He pulled Maluach out to the perimeter, baited him into fouls, and dictated the matchup. It wasn’t dominance. It was control. And that’s telling — even if it was a blowout victory for Duke.
Yes, there are flashes. When he gets a clean rotation as a weakside helper, his vertical contests can be highlight-worthy. The tools are undeniable. But elite rim protectors aren’t defined by tools — they’re defined by timing, positioning, and consistency. The best rim protectors scare guards into second-guessing their drives. Right now, Maluach doesn’t do that. He can block shots, sure — but he doesn’t change decisions.
And that’s the gap between being tall and being impactful.
So what do you do with a 7'2" big who plays hard, wants to be great, but is still learning how to read a floor defensively?
You stop pretending he's a plug-and-play defensive anchor. You stop calling him switchable because he doesn’t get killed every time he’s pulled out of the paint. And you start treating him like what he is — a long-term project with a rare frame and unfinished feel.
Maluach isn’t a defensive floor. He’s a blank canvas. And that’s okay — as long as the team drafting him knows it. But that’s where the conversation needs to shift.
We’ve gotten too comfortable turning “tools” into a finished product. But tools need to be sharpened, taught, and tested. Maluach has barely been playing high-level basketball for four years. He’s 18. He’s raw in the purest sense of the word. But instead of treating him like a developmental swing, he’s being spoken about like a foundational piece. That’s dangerous — not for him, but for the expectations placed on him.
It’s the same cycle we’ve seen before with hyper-projectable bigs. Think of Kai Jones. Think of Mo Bamba. Think of players who checked every box physically but never quite figured out how to play defense. Not just to jump, but to rotate. Not just to contest, but to anticipate. That’s what separates the Myles Turners from the James Wisemans.
The difference? Some guys got time. Others got thrown into the fire.
If you're drafting Maluach expecting day-one defense, you’re setting both him and your team up for failure. But if you’re drafting him with a G League plan, a development staff, and a three-year window? You might walk away with a unicorn.
What matters is not what he is now — it’s what you let him become.