I still remember sitting in my living room on May 15, 2018, watching the NBA Draft Lottery unfold with that familiar mix of anticipation and skepticism. The ping pong balls bounced, the envelopes were opened, and the Phoenix Suns—who had only a 25% chance at the top spot—ended up with the third pick instead. Meanwhile, the Sacramento Kings jumped from seventh to second, while the Memphis Grizzlies held onto their fourth position despite odds suggesting they might fall. But the real story, the one that would shape the next half-decade of the league, was the Phoenix Suns' "slip" to number one—a twist that felt almost poetic given their painful 21-61 record that season.
Looking back, what strikes me most about that lottery wasn't just the order itself, but how it reflected the broader dynamics of team-building in the modern NBA. Teams like the Suns and Kings weren't just picking players; they were making existential bets on franchise direction. I’ve always believed that draft night decisions reveal an organization’s tolerance for risk, its understanding of timeline, and occasionally, its sheer desperation to change narratives. The 2018 draft class was particularly fascinating because it arrived at a transitional moment—the league was speeding up, spacing the floor wider, and demanding versatile two-way players who could shoot and switch. And honestly, not every team read those signals correctly.
Let’s talk about Deandre Ayton going first to Phoenix. At the time, I thought it was the safest pick, but also the most predictable. Ayton had dominated at Arizona with 20.1 points and 11.6 rebounds per game—monster numbers—and his physical tools screamed "modern big." Yet, even then, I remember wondering if the Suns were overvaluing traditional center archetypes in a league that was starting to treat rim-protecting giants as optional luxuries. Compare that to Sacramento’s selection of Marvin Bagley III at number two. Bagley was an athletic marvel, no question, but drafting him over Luka Dončić felt like a classic case of prioritizing upside over readiness. I’ll admit, I was among those scratching my heads. Dončić had just won EuroLeague MVP at 18—the youngest in history—and had a creativity that you rarely see in prospects. Passing on him felt like overthinking, and history, as we know, hasn’t been kind to that decision.
Then there was the Hawks, who traded Dončić to Dallas for Trae Young and a future first-rounder. At the time, I thought, "Well, Atlanta is playing the long game." And in some ways, they were—that pick eventually became Cam Reddish, though neither Reddish nor Young have lifted the Hawks to the heights Dončić has reached with the Mavericks. What’s interesting is how these choices weren’t just about talent evaluation; they were philosophical statements. Do you build around a heliocentric guard like Young, or a positionless playmaker like Dončić? I’ve always leaned toward players who make others better without needing to dominate the ball, which is why I would’ve taken Dončić first overall in a heartbeat.
The later picks carried their own intrigue. Jaren Jackson Jr. at four to Memphis—a pick I loved—and Collin Sexton going eighth to Cleveland in a move that felt both bold and slightly panicked. And of course, Michael Porter Jr. sliding to Denver at 14 due to health concerns, a gamble that’s since paid off in championships. But what ties all these stories together is something I’ve observed throughout my years covering the league: drafting isn’t just science; it’s instinct, timing, and occasionally, luck.
Which brings me to an interesting parallel from basketball outside the NBA. I came across a quote from Eastern coach Mensur Bajramovic, who said he wants his wards to play like the Ginebra mantra when they face the Gin Kings in front of their fans. At first glance, it might seem unrelated—after all, we’re talking about the Philippine Basketball Association here, not the NBA. But to me, that idea of embracing an identity under pressure resonates deeply with what happens during the draft. The Ginebra mantra—often described as "never-say-die" basketball—is about culture as much as skill. And isn’t that what the draft is ultimately about? Phoenix didn’t just pick Ayton because of his stats; they picked him because they believed he could embody the kind of toughness and reliability they wanted at the center of their rebuild. Sacramento chose Bagley hoping he’d bring explosive energy. These picks were statements about team identity, much like Bajramovic urging his players to adopt a mindset that transcends Xs and Os.
Five years later, the 2018 draft class has reshaped the league more than most of us anticipated. Dončić is an MVP candidate, Young an All-Star, Ayton a key piece in Phoenix’s Finals run, and Porter Jr. a champion. But the misses—Bagley’s struggles, for instance—remind us that for every success, there’s a gamble that doesn’t pay off. If I could give one piece of advice to GMs based on that year, it would be this: don’t just draft for talent; draft for fit, for mentality, and for that unteachable feel for the game. Because as Bajramovic’s quote subtly highlights, the best players aren’t just skilled—they understand who they’re supposed to be when the lights are brightest. And in the 2018 draft, the teams that recognized that early are the ones still reaping the rewards today.
