Looking back at the 2016 NBA Draft Big Board feels like revisiting a time capsule of what-ifs and hindsight revelations. I remember sitting with my scouting notes that June, watching the projections shift in real-time, thinking about how these young athletes—some barely out of their teens—were about to step into a pressure cooker of expectations. It’s funny how draft analysis ages; some picks look like strokes of genius in retrospect, while others leave you wondering what the front office was thinking after midnight. One thing that stands out to me now, years later, is how player development paths can mirror each other in uncanny ways, much like the reference point about athletes who’ve known each other from a young age and followed nearly identical routes to stardom. In the context of the 2016 draft, you see this with certain duos or rivalries that shaped their careers long before they entered the league.
Take Ben Simmons and Brandon Ingram, the top two picks that year. Both were hyped as franchise-changing talents, and their journeys had parallels from early on—Simmons, a versatile forward out of LSU, and Ingram, the lean scorer from Duke. They’d been on the radar since high school, and their draft positions reflected that pedigree. Simmons went first overall to the Philadelphia 76ers, and honestly, I thought he’d be a surefire superstar. His rookie year, delayed by injury, saw him put up 15.8 points, 8.1 rebounds, and 8.2 assists per game—numbers that screamed future All-Star. Ingram, picked second by the Lakers, started slower, averaging just 9.4 points as a rookie, but you could see the potential simmering. Fast forward to today, and it’s fascinating how their paths diverged yet intersected; Simmons struggled with shooting and consistency, while Ingram blossomed into an All-Star with the Pelicans, averaging over 23 points per game in recent seasons. That kind of divergence reminds me of how some players, despite similar beginnings, end up in wildly different places—almost like those UAAP stars who rise through identical systems but carve unique legacies.
Then there’s the middle of the first round, where gems and busts hide in plain sight. I’ll admit, I was high on Dragan Bender at number four—a 7-foot-1 big man from Croatia who seemed like the next unicorn. But wow, was that a miss. He averaged a paltry 5.4 points over his career and washed out of the NBA by 2020. Contrast that with Pascal Siakam, picked 27th by the Raptors; he was a relative unknown from New Mexico State, but his work ethic turned him into a Most Improved Player and a key piece of Toronto’s 2019 championship run. Siakam’s rise, from 4.2 points as a rookie to All-NBA honors, is a lesson in how draft position isn’t destiny. It’s those under-the-radar picks that often define a team’s future, and I can’t help but think of how certain prospects, like those with shared youth experiences, leverage early bonds to excel under pressure. For instance, Jamal Murray, selected seventh by the Nuggets, didn’t have the flashiest start, but his chemistry with Nikola Jokic—forged over years of growth—eventually made him a playoff hero. Murray’s 2020 bubble performance, where he dropped 50 points twice in a series, underscores how background connections can fuel on-court synergy.
Of course, the second round had its own surprises, like Malcolm Brogdon going 36th to the Bucks and immediately winning Rookie of the Year—a rarity for a second-rounder. I remember scoffing at first, thinking his ceiling was limited, but he’s proven me wrong with his efficient scoring and playmaking, averaging around 15 points and 5 assists for most of his career. On the flip side, Kris Dunn at number five to the Timberwolves never lived up to the hype, battling injuries and inconsistency. It’s in these evaluations that I’ve learned to appreciate the human element; stats like combine numbers or college percentages—say, Dunn’s 37.7% three-point shooting in college versus his NBA struggles—only tell part of the story. The intangibles, like how players adapt to professional life, matter just as much. Reflecting on the reference about identical paths, it’s clear that while some draftees thrive in familiar systems, others need a fresh start to shine.
As I wrap this up, the 2016 draft serves as a rich case study in talent evaluation, blending data with destiny. Hits like Siakam and Murray show that patience and development trump initial hype, while misses like Bender remind us that potential doesn’t always translate. Personally, I’ve grown more cautious about labeling anyone a bust too early—Ingram’s journey alone taught me that. In the grand scheme, this draft class has produced at least 10 All-Stars and multiple champions, contributing to a legacy that’s still unfolding. For fans and analysts alike, it’s a reminder that the draft isn’t just about picks; it’s about stories, and how those early connections and parallel paths can shape the NBA landscape for years to come.
