Partizan’s 2025-26 EuroLeague season has unraveled in a way that goes far beyond a bad stretch or a slow start. The data and the way this team competes—or fails to compete—show a structure that is broken, a roster that is poorly assembled, and a group lacking the chemistry required at the elite level. Željko Obradović’s resignation cannot be understood without closely examining what is happening on the court, because the floor explains what the locker room and the club have been grappling with: a project that simply does not work.
The team averages 81.6 points, a figure that might be acceptable under certain circumstances, but never alongside an offense producing only 15.8 assists per game. That number, so limited given the amount of shots Partizan takes, points to an obvious reality: the ball doesn’t move, it doesn’t flow, and it doesn’t create advantages. There is no offensive structure binding the group together, and that becomes clearer when looking at the point guard position, the one intended to provide order. The team’s leading playmaker is Carlik Jones, with 5.2 assists, but those numbers come from just five games, and not from a primary organizer role but rather from sporadic bursts. Meanwhile, Nick Calathes, who should be the team’s brain on the floor, is producing numbers that support no system whatsoever: 2.0 points, 1.8 assists, 20% from three, and 0% from the line. These statistics speak to a player without offensive impact and, by extension, to a team without an axis of control.
Scoring, for Partizan, comes more from isolated talent than from any coherent plan. Sterling Brown, with 15.2 points, 60.3% on twos, 38.9% from three, and 12.9 PIR, is the only perimeter player producing with genuine consistency. He is joined by the scoring impulses of Duane Washington, who delivers 13.4 points at 39.5% from deep, but whose style is that of an independent creator rather than a connector. They provide points, yes, but not structure. Vanja Marinković, Dylan Osetkowski, and Jones himself offer what they can, but none are capable of elevating the collective functioning. The result is an offense that lives off individual streaks rather than system-generated advantages—a team that chases opportunities instead of creating them.
Inside, the problems are no smaller. Partizan collects 31.3 rebounds per game, a poor number for a team that already struggles to finish defensive possessions. Their main presence in the paint is Tyrique Jones, with 6.1 rebounds, 10.5 points, 63% on twos, and 16.2 PIR, but he works almost entirely alone. Isaac Bonga, contributing from the wing and hybrid positions, adds 5.4 rebounds, but he is not a natural rim protector. Beyond them, interior production is insufficient for EuroLeague standards: Bruno Fernando and Jabari Parker, combined, barely reach 3.3 + 2.8 rebounds. Together, they don’t even offer what one solid starting big should provide. Aleksej Pokuševski, whose efficiency stands out in the box score (66.7% on twos, 38.9% from three), plays just 11 minutes per game, too little to generate meaningful impact. In short, Partizan does not control its own basket, concedes second chances, and never imposes physical presence—a structural flaw that defines their season.
None of these issues would be as critical if the team defended at a minimally acceptable level, but the statistics tell the opposite story: Partizan allows opponents to shoot 51.1% from the field, five points higher than its own conversion rate. The collapse becomes even clearer when examined in detail: opponents score 58.7% on twos, revealing a complete lack of interior protection; and they hit 41.5% from three, indicating the perimeter also fails to arrive in time. Furthermore, opponents have delivered 248 assists, an extremely high number for just 13 games, a sign of passive defense with no hands, no rotations, and no collective activity. Added to this is the fact that Partizan has only produced 78 steals and 37 blocks across the competition: the team does not intimidate, does not disrupt, and does not create defensive instability.
The problem also lies in how the roster fits together—or rather, how it doesn’t. Perimeter players score but do not organize. The players who should generate advantages do not do so. The big men who should protect the rim don’t provide consistency. Others who could contribute more—such as Pokuševski—never find a stable role. The team functions as individuals rather than as a system. Each player seems to belong to a different project, and on the court that translates into basketball without chemistry, without interaction, and without complementary roles. For a coach like Obradović—whose success has always been rooted in balance, clarity of roles, and internal coherence—this scenario is devastating. Nothing in the structure of this team responds to the patterns he demands.
The overall numbers summarize everything: Partizan has scored 1061 points and conceded 1136. That is -75 overall, an average of -5.7 per game. It is the profile of a team out of sync, consistently outplayed, and lacking even the minimal competitive foundation. And this differential, combined with the lack of chemistry and the poor roster construction you referenced, explains why Obradović’s resignation is not the result of an impulsive decision but the culmination of the belief that, with this roster, it was impossible to take the team anywhere near its required level.
Partizan is not only losing games; it is losing identity. And for a club whose soul is built on character, energy, and cohesion, that is the most difficult defeat to repair.