Looking back at the 2016 NBA Draft, I still get that familiar tingle of excitement mixed with professional curiosity. Having covered basketball prospects for over a decade now, I've learned that draft classes aren't just about individual talent—they're about connections, parallel journeys, and sometimes, the most fascinating stories emerge from players who've grown up together in the basketball world. That reference about players knowing each other from a young age following identical paths to stardom really resonates with me, because we saw this dynamic play out remarkably well in the 2016 draft class, particularly with the Ben Simmons-Brandon Ingram narrative that dominated the conversation that year.
Let me be perfectly clear from the start—Ben Simmons was my clear number one prospect, and I'll defend that position to this day. The Australian phenom measured at 6'10" with a 7'0" wingspan and demonstrated court vision that I hadn't seen from a player his size since Magic Johnson. His freshman season at LSU was statistically dominant—he averaged 19.2 points, 11.8 rebounds, and 4.8 assists while shooting 56% from the field. The concerns about his jump shot were legitimate, but I believed then, and still believe now, that his transcendent passing and defensive versatility would outweigh those limitations. Watching Simmons and Ingram develop through their teenage years on parallel tracks reminded me of that reference about players knowing each other from young ages following similar paths—both were highly-touted prospects who dominated the high school circuit, though their games developed quite differently.
Brandon Ingram at number two was about as close to a consensus as you get in this business. The Duke product brought a scoring package that made scouts drool—a smooth 6'9" frame with a ridiculous 7'3" wingspan and shooting mechanics that looked fundamentally perfect. His 17.3 points per game on 41% from three-point range in college suggested he'd transition seamlessly to NBA spacing. What fascinated me about the Simmons-Ingram dynamic was how their games complemented each other theoretically—Simmons the playmaking savant, Ingram the scoring maestro—yet both represented the positionless basketball revolution that was sweeping the league.
Now, this is where my board started diverging from the mainstream consensus. I had Jaylen Brown at my number three spot, ahead of Dragan Bender and Kris Dunn, which raised some eyebrows at the time. Brown's athletic testing numbers were off the charts—he recorded a 38.5-inch vertical at the combine—and his 6'7", 225-pound frame screamed NBA readiness. I'll admit I was higher on his shooting potential than most, believing his 29.4% three-point percentage at California was more about shot selection than fundamental flaws. Sometimes you just see a player and know they have that dog in them, that competitive fire that translates regardless of statistical projections.
The international prospects in this class presented particularly intriguing evaluation challenges. Dragan Bender at number four represented the modern stretch big prototype—a 7'1" player who could theoretically protect the rim and space the floor. His numbers overseas weren't eye-popping (just 4.5 points per game in the Israeli League), but the context mattered tremendously. Playing against grown men at just 18 years old, his per-36 minute projections suggested 12.8 points, 7.9 rebounds, and 1.8 blocks—numbers that hinted at significant upside. Croatian wing Dario Saric came in at number five on my board, though I had concerns about his athletic limitations translating to NBA defense.
When we dropped below the top five, the draft really opened up in terms of team needs and fit considerations. Jamal Murray at six gave me pause initially—his defensive metrics at Kentucky were concerning, with opponents shooting 48% against him in isolation situations—but his scoring package was simply too polished to ignore. His 20 points per game on 40.8% from three demonstrated shot-making versatility that I believed would translate immediately. Buddy Hield at seven represented perhaps the safest bet in the entire draft—a four-year college player who shot an absurd 45.7% from three-point range during his senior season at Oklahoma. Sometimes you just take the elite skill and figure the rest out later.
The middle of the first round contained what I believed were several potential steals. Domantas Sabonis at fifteen felt criminal—his basketball IQ and footwork reminded me of his father Arvydas, and his 61.7% two-point percentage at Gonzaga suggested incredible efficiency potential. Caris LeVert at twenty was my personal favorite value pick—when healthy at Michigan, he averaged 16.5 points, 5.3 rebounds, and 4.9 assists while demonstrating advanced pick-and-roll skills. The medical concerns were legitimate (he'd suffered multiple foot fractures), but the talent was undeniable first-round material.
As we approached the later picks, I found myself particularly intrigued by Pascal Siakam at twenty-seven—his motor was absolutely relentless at New Mexico State, where he averaged 11.6 rebounds and 2.2 blocks as a sophomore. The shooting wasn't there yet (he made just 3 three-pointers his entire college career), but the defensive versatility and rim-running potential felt like a perfect modern big man foundation. Malcolm Brogdon at thirty-six was another personal favorite—his 42.5% three-point shooting at Virginia combined with his 6'10" wingspan suggested immediate 3-and-D potential, though his age (23) likely caused his slide.
Reflecting on this draft five years later, the parallel development paths we saw among top prospects have created fascinating career arcs. That dynamic of players growing up together in the basketball world—competing in the same circuits, facing similar challenges—creates bonds and rivalries that shape their professional journeys in profound ways. The 2016 class has produced multiple All-Stars, several max contract players, and surprising late-bloomers who've outperformed their draft positions dramatically. What continues to fascinate me about draft evaluation is how initial perceptions evolve—some sure things falter, while overlooked prospects blossom into stars, reminding us that talent development is anything but linear.
