Chris Finch could barely get the words out. His voice wavered, his emotions threatening to take over. In a game where strategy and execution usually dictate every decision, the Minnesota Timberwolves head coach made a choice that had nothing to do with stats, matchups, or even winning.

And yet, it was the most important decision of the night.

It wasn’t about playoff seeding or rotations. It was about something bigger—something that brought the entire locker room together in a way no game plan ever could.

The Timberwolves were set to face the New Orleans Pelicans, aiming to tighten their grip on a strong playoff push. But before tipoff, Finch made an adjustment that had nothing to do with Xs and Os.

Joe Ingles, a 36-year-old veteran who hadn’t started a game in over two years, was suddenly in the lineup. Not because of injuries. Not because of matchups. But because of family.

Ingles’ son, Jacob, was in the crowd—a rare occasion that carried enormous weight. Diagnosed with autism at a young age, Jacob had struggled with the overwhelming environment of an NBA arena. But on this night, something changed. For the first time ever, he could sit through an entire game without experiencing sensory overload.

Finch knew what this meant. And he knew what he had to do.

“Well, yeah, it’s emotional,” Finch admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “Sometimes you got to do the human thing. And we always talk about all these minutes matter, but those minutes mattered for another reason.”

He revealed that someone had suggested the idea earlier in the day, and once it was in his mind, there was no question. “I figured if we’re going to do it, let’s do it in style. The guys were behind it, and I think it gave us just the right boost that we needed.”

So Ingles got the start. And for six minutes, he ran the floor, knowing that his son was watching him—really watching him—for the first time in his life.

Joe Ingles’ Journey and the Timberwolves’ Culture of Support

For Joe and his wife, Renae, this was more than just a special moment—it was the culmination of a long, emotional journey.

They’ve always been open about their experience raising Jacob. Renae once said, “Jacob didn’t become autistic that day that we were told he had autism. He’s always been Jacob with autism, and that’s who he is.”

Since then, the Ingles family has worked closely with organizations like KultureCity to raise awareness and promote inclusivity for children with sensory sensitivities. But this night wasn’t about advocacy or awareness campaigns—it was simply about a father and a son, sharing a moment that once seemed impossible.

And the Timberwolves understood.”You know, he was really appreciative, emotional. And, you know, obviously I had to have a conversation with Mike too, who was super pumped and everybody in the organization was really excited for, for that and for their family and for Jacob in particular.” Chris said “So but yeah, you know, Joe’s meant so much to us this season. I can’t begin to thank him for his leadership in a team such as ours and the way we’re constructed.“

This isn’t the first time the team has gone out of its way to support players and their families. Earlier this season, Kyle Anderson, who is also raising a son with autism, hosted families from Fraser, an organization dedicated to supporting children with special needs. “I want them to know that I’m with them on this journey,” Anderson said at the time.

The Timberwolves have made it a priority to create an environment that goes beyond basketball, whether it’s supporting families through personal moments or organizing events that bring players and fans closer together.

Minnesota dominated the Pelicans 134-93 that night, with Julius Randle leading the way with 20 points. But if you asked anyone in that locker room what they’d remember most, it wouldn’t be the final score.

It would be the six minutes Joe Ingles spent on the court. The six minutes where Jacob got to see his dad play without discomfort. The six minutes that reminded everyone why sports, at their best, aren’t just about competition—they’re about connection.

And for Chris Finch, the moment meant everything. “It’s not often that you get to do those types of things, but we’re really happy that we could.”