NBA Draft 2011: Why Winning the NBA Draft Lottery Might Lead to Failure

Like most red-blooded American males, I’ve spent the past three weeks on a basketball high ignited by the greatest playoff in sports—the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. 

Moving during games only for one of the three acceptable reasons*, I teetered on the edge of anaphylactic shock as my heart (Penn State’s loss) and bracket were broken, basked in the continued NCAA tournament failure of Pitt and euphorically glowed while watching Kemba Walker place himself on the Mount Rushmore of Big East point guards. 

*Acceptable reasons to move during NCAA tournament:  1. Grab an adult beverage.  2. Pay the pizza guy.  3.  Use the facilities.   (Note:  Married men get a special exception:  Wife threatened to take the big-screen in the divorce settlement.)

The one thing I didn’t do over the past two weeks?  See a surefire future NBA All-Star.

Listen, I know this isn’t exactly a revolutionary statement.  Beginning with Tar Heels forward Harrison Barnes’ less-than-torrid start to the season, NBA scouts have been not-so-quietly whispering about the dearth of talent for the upcoming draft.  Some have compared it less favorably to the age-limit influenced 2006 Draft (which, in retrospect, wasn’t that horrible), while others have gone as far to compare the 2011 Draft to the Great Talent Apocalypse of 2000**.

**Seriously, if you ever want a good non-Rebecca Black related laugh, go check out the 2000 Draft’s Wikipedia page.  Seriously, I didn’t even know Jérome Moïso existed before typing this sentence.

While I think comparing the 2011 class to 2000 is an insult and think 2006 is a more apt comparison, the fact that the consensus No. 1 prospect (Duke PG Kyrie Irving) played a grand total of 303 collegiate minutes isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement for the class as a whole. 

And with 10 teams (and that’s being conservative) being eliminated from playoff contention, this is normally about the time of the year teams start tanking in effort to get the most ping-pong balls.

But, considering the lack of a surefire superstar in this year’s draft, is winning the lottery really winning***?

***Copyright, Charlie Sheen.

In my opinion, that answer is a resounding no. 

Following both the 2000 and 2006 Drafts, the non-elite No. 1 picks (Kenyon Martin and Andrea Bargnani, respectively) were saddled with unrealistic expectations (Martin, to reclaim his once elite leaping ability after a broken leg, and Bargnani, to be an Italian Dirk Nowitzki.) by sinking franchises in hope of a spark. 

Both fizzled under the glaring spotlight as top pick but continue to be able-bodied NBA contributors.

If everyone who is projected to leave school actually does so, I see six guaranteed eight-plus year NBA contributors—Irving, Barnes, Terrence Jones, Morehead State PF Kenneth Faried, Walker and Jimmer Fredette.

You may disagree with that list and I like other players on the board as well, but these are six guys whose fail quotient is less than 15 percent. 

In Irving and Barnes, you’re getting players who will be at or near the top of most draft boards who possess no elite talents but show no glaring weaknesses, either.

As for the other four players on the list, you’re getting a guarantee without having to pay a top-five price****.

****Exception:  If Terrence Jones goes off in individual workouts, he could very easily slip into the top five.

Both Faried and everyone’s favorite Mormon possess elite translatable skills that won’t go away, regardless of whether they’re playing in the NBA or some local YMCA league. 

For Faried, all he needs is to spend some time in the weight room before he realizes his destiny as Ben Wallace 2.0. 

And Jimmer?  Well, we all know what Jimmer’s strength is.  So whether he turns out to simply be a better version of J.J. Redick or blossoms into an offensive virtuoso a la Steph Curry, his failure rate is negligible. 

Like Fredette and Faried, Kemba Walker's failure rate at the NBA level is nonexistent.  I cannot see someone with Walker’s will to win, leadership ability and—forgive me—heart, fail at the NBA-level. 

Skill-wise he’s no slouch, either.  I would rate him as a slightly worse version of Denver Nuggets point guard Ty Lawson with double the leadership ability. 

With none of the aforementioned four players on the top 10 of most draft boards, wouldn’t it stand to reason that “losing” this year’s lottery could actually be a win for the franchise? 

If a team procures a high pick, the GM is more-than-likely going to be swayed by the upside of a player like Perry Jones—who might as well have “Where’s my check?” written on his forehead—than they are to take a guaranteed contributor. 

However, a team is sitting in the 10-15 range can pragmatically explain to fans that they’re drafting an important cog in a future championship contender, instead of having to saddle a mediocre player with the expectations of being a franchise savior. 

And when Kenneth Faried is holding up the 2015 Defensive Player of the Year Award while Perry Jones lingers frustrated at the end of the bench, we’ll all be reminded that sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war.