Mitchell averaged 18.2 points, 4.5 rebounds, 4.2 assists, and 1.5 steals.
Tatum put up 15.8 points, 6.5 rebounds, 1.9 assists, 1.3 steals, and 1 block per game.
Sabonis averaged 12.6 points, 9.3 rebounds, and 2.9 assists.
Hield added 13 points per game.
Statistically speaking, this group of Kings rookies didn't show drastic improvement over last season. In fact, Mitchell even regressed a bit. But measuring a player's true value has never been just about numbers.
For example—context matters. The value of stats in wins vs. losses? Completely different. Putting up numbers on a contender vs. a lottery team? Also not the same.
Last season's Kings were a weak team. This season, they clearly weren't.
The Trail Blazers finished fourth with 53 wins.
Houston also had 53 wins, ranking fifth.
James Harden averaged a ridiculous 36.1 PPG—had it not been for Han Sen, he would've been the scoring story of the year, even surpassing Kobe's best scoring season.
Spurs, Thunder, and Jazz rounded out the sixth through eighth spots.
That meant Sacramento's first-round opponent was the San Antonio Spurs.
Han's very first playoff grudge after joining the Grizzlies had been against the Spurs. Now, years later, after returning to the West, his first-round opponent? Spurs again.
But times had changed. The G.D.P. era was over. Even Kawhi had left last summer. This wasn't the same Spurs—neither in roster nor in strength.
On paper, a 3rd seed vs. 6th seed matchup should be fairly one-sided. But once the series started, the Kings' performance was all over the place.
- Game 1: Kings won at home, 107–94. Clean and easy.
- Game 2: Kings lost, 98–108. Sloppy and frustrating.
Han was steady as ever—40 PPG through two games, just like the regular season.
But the rookies? Not so much.
Mitchell: 21 points in Game 1 → 13 in Game 2.
Tatum: 17 points → 7 points.
In contrast, Rudy Gay and Marc Gasol—the vets—played with consistency.
It was the classic rookie playoff jitters. The jump in intensity, defense, and game speed from regular season to postseason is massive. Most first-timers struggle to adjust.
Especially when the opponent is San Antonio.
Sure, their roster wasn't elite anymore—but their coach was still Gregg Popovich. And Pop was the king of game-planning.
He might not have had an answer for Han, but when it came to targeting the rookies? That was his bread and butter.
This series wasn't going to be easy—not at all. The Kings got unlucky drawing perhaps the toughest matchup in the lower bracket right out of the gate.
After two games in Sacramento, the series shifted to San Antonio.
And that's when people realized—the real unlucky team wasn't the Kings.
It was the Spurs.
The Spursbane. The Mayor of San Antonio. These old nicknames from Han's Memphis days came flooding back into the minds of Spurs fans.
- Game 3: Han dropped 54 points. Kings won 118–108.
- Game 4: Han scored 46. Kings took it 114–105.
If averaging 40 wasn't enough to seal the series, then he'd just average 50.
That night, San Antonio fans were once again reminded of the terror Han Sen brought.
With the series at 3–1, the outcome felt inevitable.
Back home for Game 5, the Kings' rookies finally bounced back. Sacramento finished the job in three quarters.
4–1. A gentleman's sweep. The Kings advanced to the Western Conference Semifinals.
---
Key takeaways from the series:
1. The Spurs actually played well.
- DeMar DeRozan, known for choking in the playoffs, performed better than his regular season averages across all five games.
- LaMarcus Aldridge consistently beat Sabonis in their individual matchup.
2. The Kings' young core showed flaws.
- Mitchell's inconsistency.
- Tatum's complete lack of shot creation when pressured.
There's a world of difference between dealing with single coverage and double teams—especially high-efficiency ones. That kind of pressure can't be solved just by grit. It demands fundamentals.
But these two flaws only highlighted just how dominant Han Sen was.
---
Next up: New Orleans Pelicans.
Some might assume the Pelicans were weak after getting swept by the Cavs last season—but let's not forget, they made the Finals from the West.
Compared to the Spurs, the Pelicans were a whole different beast.
And aside from Han Sen, this Kings team didn't hold a candle to last year's Cavs.
The media consensus? Kings might stretch it to 6 games, but they'd be the ones getting eliminated.
The only reason they were even given 6 games was because of Han—and his absurd form in Round 1.
He averaged 40+ points with an 80% true shooting percentage—an insane level of efficiency.
Now fully adapted to his increased height and wingspan, Han had become unstoppable.
Of course, the Pelicans' defense was far better than San Antonio's. Han was still just one man.
But then came Game 1—and the Kings stunned everyone, stealing a 104–93 win on the road.
A huge upset.
Anyone who watched the game, though, wasn't all that surprised—the Pelicans had underestimated them.
It was obvious: their strategy was to shut down Han. And they did. He scored just 30 points.
But he also dished out 13 assists.
It seemed New Orleans hadn't even bothered scouting the Kings' rookie core. They assumed their Round 1 inconsistency was just playoff inexperience.
But with the pressure off, Mitchell and Tatum reminded everyone they'd grown. They took full advantage of the opportunities Han created.
Tatum, especially—he hit 4 threes, finished with 23 points, and notched his first career playoff 20+ game.
For the first time, people finally saw the version of Tatum they'd envisioned during the draft.
But the Pelicans quickly adjusted.
Game 1's loss came down to defense—an area they were more than capable of fixing.
Unlike the Spurs, the Pelicans could focus on Han and contain everyone else.
They stormed back with two straight wins, flipping the series to 2–1.
"We just took a nap," LeBron said in the postgame presser after winning their first road game—dropping a classic line.
It was clear: he was eager to finally beat Han.
Game 4 was the turning point.
Up to that point, Tyronn Lue had spent every waking moment trying to crack the Pelicans' defense.
But after three games, the conclusion was clear: the Kings didn't have the offensive personnel to do it.
So Lue made a bold shift—he focused on defense instead.
A risky move, considering the Pelicans excelled at that very thing. Beating them at their own strength sounded suicidal.
But when Lue ran the idea by Han—he agreed.
The Kings weren't bad defensively. Mitchell and Tatum had shown flaws on offense, sure, but their defense had held up all series.
So if they couldn't win with offense—why not gamble on defense?
And they had a secret weapon: Jeff Van Gundy.
His offenses were dreadful, but his defenses? Elite. That's how his old Rockets teams stayed relevant out West for so long.
Sure enough, the theory proved correct.
Game 4: Kings won a gritty battle, 96–92.
A total throwback—an anti-modern basketball slugfest.
Even in playoff settings where scoring dips, teams usually still crack 110 in wins.
But this game? Both sides barely crossed 90.
That game also forced everyone to confront something they had overlooked:
Han Sen had been guarding LeBron James.
With the Kings going small to improve rotation speed, Han spent most of his minutes matched directly against LeBron, shutting him down.
And this Pelicans team was heavily reliant on LeBron and Anthony Davis for offense.
The rest? Inconsistent. Jrue Holiday, for instance, had always been a great defender—but Philly let him go because he couldn't run an offense.
Now the series stood at 2–2. Heading into the pivotal Game 5.
The "Pelicans in 6" narrative?
That window had slammed shut.
---
In the most pivotal game of the series, Anthony Davis came out firing.
Whether it was against Sabonis or Marc Gasol, he played with agility and confidence—constantly slipping through for cuts and easy finishes.
He looked every bit like the best big man of the small-ball era.
But all that effort ended up meaning nothing—because LeBron James still couldn't get it going.
And it wasn't about effort or desire. At its core, LeBron had the same problem as Tatum—his "versatility" had turned into ineffectiveness.
Against Han Sen, whose wingspan and height had taken another leap, it was like rubbing salt into a wound that had never healed.
Outside of a couple transition buckets, LeBron looked like a liability.
Not that the Kings' rookies were lighting it up either.
With the Pelicans' offense stalling, the game became a grind-it-out defensive battle. Every point was hard-earned.
At that point, whether the shot clock was 24 seconds or 14 didn't matter—because all they were doing was bricking shots.
By the final minute, the score was tied 79-79.
If this was the early 2000s, no one would blink. But in 2019? It was like someone still using a Nokia brick phone—not impossible, just absurdly rare.
And then—Han happened.
One driving foul drawn.
One jab-step, hesitation, spin, and fadeaway.
Ballgame.
83–81, Kings win the crucial Game 5. Series score: 3–2.
The public prediction was half-right—this could end in six. But now, it was the Kings who were on the verge of closing it out.
"The series isn't over yet," LeBron said after the game, noticeably more subdued than before.
For the Pelicans, Game 6 was the definition of "win or go home."
And it led to something Sacramento had never experienced before.
It wasn't just a sellout crowd inside Golden 1 Center. Outside the arena, thousands of fans had gathered, flooding the streets. The entire city was buzzing.
For the first time, Sacramento felt like a true basketball city.
And maybe this was the biggest difference between Han Sen and LeBron James—Han didn't build fake hype. He created real prosperity.
What fans had always wanted—and waited to see—was simple: winning.
Inside the arena, the atmosphere was electric.
During the pregame ceremony, the deafening roars and the arena's unique architecture created a coliseum effect. The players could feel the blood rushing in their veins.
Tyronn Lue rolled with a five-out starting lineup.
Han was matched up directly with LeBron.
James didn't look at him. Didn't even glance.
Maybe he was locked in.
Or maybe—he didn't dare to.
But Han spoke first.
"Yo, Bron."
LeBron turned, caught off guard. Han never called him that. Not once. Not even back when he was a rookie.
Then Han said:
"You believe in fate?"
LeBron didn't say a word.
So Han kept going.
"If we lost two more games this season… or you won two more?"
He gave a little shrug.
"We wouldn't even be here."
The ref stepped to center court with the ball.
Han looked him dead in the eye.
"But we are."
Pause.
"And you still can't beat me."
Another beat.
"That's fate too."
TWEET!
The whistle blew.
Game on.