Boys Among Men: How the Prep-to-Pro Generation Redefined the NBA and Sparked a Basketball Revolution

by Jonathan Abrams

  Ellis soon informed Cunningham that he would enter the NBA out of high school. Cunningham made one last-ditch effort. He scribbled the expected salary of each first-round pick—1 through 30—highlighting the salary differential between a player drafted early and one taken later. “Monta, think about this,” Cunningham said. “If you come to Mississippi State for one year, you’re going to be the best player in the [Southeastern Conference]. You’ll be MVP of the SEC. You’ll probably be first-team All-American. You think if you come here for one year, you can’t be as good as Chris Paul and be a top pick in the draft next year and make this type of money as opposed to going in right now and [then] you’re locked into this lower spot?”

  Ellis flatly told Cunningham that he thought he was already a better player than Paul, a future All-Star. With that reply, Cunningham knew that another top high school player would never play at Mississippi State.

  Rick Stansbury’s recruiting mind-set did not change throughout the setbacks. “We went after the best players,” Stansbury said. “Like any coach in the country will tell you, ‘If I can get one for one year, I’ll take him.’ ” But even the introduction of the age minimum did not help him during his run at Mississippi State. Stansbury believed he had finally lucked out when he landed Renardo Sidney, a talented big man. Sidney was one of those phenoms known from an early age. He was ranked among the top junior high players and his Mississippi middle school charged admission to watch him play. Some called him another Magic Johnson in the making. An NBA career seemed inevitable. But Sidney was born a little too late. The age rule was in place in 2009 by the time Sidney finished high school. By then, most colleges had backed away from recruiting Sidney, fearful that his association with shoe companies and agents would hurt his eligibility and put the university at risk for sanctions. Mississippi State remained one of the few schools who offered Sidney a scholarship. He accepted and enrolled, while the NCAA investigated his eligibility. The coaching staff believed Sidney would receive a short suspension and leave college after playing just one season. At several points during the season, Cunningham informed Sidney to be prepared to play. But the investigation dragged on. Sidney’s weight ballooned. He practiced with the team, but devoured fast food when the squad went on road trips. The NCAA finally ruled Sidney ineligible for all of the 2009–2010 season and the first nine games the following year. Cunningham still thought Sidney would declare for the NBA. Instead, he stayed and showed only the occasional flashes of his past dominance on the AAU circuit. His tenure was mostly marked by disappointment. Most notably, Sidney fought with a teammate in the stands and drew another suspension. He went undrafted by the NBA in 2012 and played briefly in the NBA Development League.

  After Sidney’s final year at Mississippi State, an emotional Stansbury addressed reporters inside the campus’s Bryan Athletic Building. He was now 52. The last season had been difficult on Stansbury. The team had once been ranked 15th best in the nation, but collapsed down the stretch. “We’ve had a couple of disappointing years by our standards, which we created,” a red-eyed Stansbury said in announcing his retirement as the school’s coach. “There’s no one to blame but me for that. I’ll take responsibility for that. And you’ve heard me say it—I want those expectations. We don’t run from them.”

  Mississippi State experienced success during Stansbury’s tenure. He guided the Bulldogs to a 293–166 record, but the team had last qualified for the NCAA tournament three years earlier. The team played in six tournaments, never advancing beyond the second round. One elite prospect for one year could have changed all that and much more. “It affected everyone’s career so much because we had a great run,” Cunningham said. “You look back on it and that was without Jonathan Bender, Travis Outlaw, and Monta Ellis. Throw all of those guys in there for just one year and think how that changes the talent of those teams they would have played on. Where is Rick Stansbury right now had those guys all gone to Mississippi State and he goes to the Sweet Sixteen a couple times, goes to a Final Four? Put one of those guys on our team and they make a run and all of a sudden you’re an assistant coach on a Sweet Sixteen team. Now, you get a job, which never really happened for any of us assistant coaches at Mississippi State. It affected recruiting, too. You’re always looking for the next thing to sell. We never could go out and sell that next guy that we’ve had a lottery pick, because those talents would get signed but never come.”

  •••

  “If you want to take care of my family, you’ll stay,” John Calipari told DeMarcus Cousins in the spring of 2010. “If you want to take of your family, you’ll go.”

  Calipari held similar conversations annually with his best players—usually those who had just completed fantastic freshmen campaigns under him at the University of Kentucky. Cousins had developed into one of the nation’s top interior forces in 2009–2010. He was a massive talent with a bit of a mean streak. He possessed a bright future as a professional if he could harness his emotions. The university had been like a family to Cousins, with Calipari the father figure. Cousins shared his doubts about whether he should leave college after just one season for the riches of the NBA. Calipari presented his options in practical terms. “Once he put it in those words, it wasn’t really a tough decision at all,” said Cousins, taken fifth overall by the Sacramento Kings. Calipari dispensed his advice to his young players only after much deliberation. He advised an underclassman to declare for the NBA when his stock was at its highest. Even then, Calipari peppered the player with serious questions about his future. What if you don’t stay in the NBA? Are you ready to play somewhere foreign, where they do not speak English? Are you ready to watch us play on television in the NCAA tournament when you’re somewhere by yourself in the middle of nowhere getting little playing time? What is your backup plan if you get injured? Calipari’s players came to realize that, first and foremost, he had their backs. He offered his insights straight, putting aside his own objectives. Calipari regarded himself as having gone from the business of basketball to the business of helping families. “It’s not a secret,” said Patrick Patterson, who declared for the NBA after his junior season at Kentucky. “It’s not anything new. The NBA is about money. It’s about profit. College basketball is all about family and basketball, togetherness. That changes completely when you get to the NBA.”

  Calipari had resuscitated his career after his short time with the New Jersey Nets, a stint most notable for him passing on the opportunity to draft Kobe Bryant. That decision could have changed everything. Instead, the Nets fired Calipari shortly into the 1998–1999 season with the team sporting a dismal record of 3–17. Calipari soon reappeared in the college ranks, where he seemed more comfortable as a molder of the game’s future stars. In 2008, Calipari’s Memphis Tigers advanced to the national championship game against the University of Kansas. That season’s wins would later be vacated after the NCAA invalidated the SAT scores of the talented freshman Derrick Rose. The voiding marked the second time one of Calipari’s teams had reached the Final Four, only to have the appearance rescinded. The NCAA again found that Calipari had no personal culpability in the breaking of its rules. To his detractors, Calipari always seemed a step ahead of reproach.

  Soon, Calipari signed on to coach at Kentucky. He became a rock star of a coach, active on Twitter and friends to rappers like Jay-Z and Drake. He took advantage of the new age minimum in a way that Rick Stansbury and others could only imagine. The message was clear to the nation’s top recruits. If you wanted to go to the NBA, Calipari could get you there the fastest. This was the new college basketball. Stars stayed only as long as it took for them to matriculate into the NBA, and Kentucky became the destination for one-and-done players. NBA teams drafted 26 Kentucky players in Calipari’s first six years at the university. Most left school after their freshmen seasons. Many became top NBA draft picks, and three—John Wall, Anthony Davis, and Karl-Anthony Towns—were picked first overall. Calipari labeled the 2010 draft as the greatest day in Kentuck
y basketball history when five Wildcats, including four freshmen, were drafted in the first round. Calipari’s Wildcats started the 2014–2015 season with 38 straights wins, but had hopes of a perfect season derailed with a loss to the University of Wisconsin in the national semifinals. The NBA drafted six of the seven Kentucky players who declared for the draft after the season. The influx of talent became so heavy at Kentucky that it created logjams for playing time when a freshman had the chance to jump to the NBA but instead decided to return for another year of college. “We’ve got to make it evil,” Calipari said. “Well, why is it not evil for [golfer] Jordan Spieth to leave after one year and do what he is doing? Why is that OK? Or a tennis star? Or Bill Gates? Or Steve Jobs? Is it because of who the kids are or where they’re from? I don’t understand the venom that was coming at us for helping prepare kids. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t today. If you’re mad, do what we’re doing. If you’re not willing to do what we’re doing, it’s fine. Do what you do. But why would you be mad at kids? This is generational wealth. At times, generational poverty just ends with a family. It ends right there in that greenroom. For me, I just don’t take it lightly. It’s not hurt my career.”

  Kentucky was in the mix at the end of every college season—annually sporting a young, talented team. The process seemed disingenuous to some who sensed a loss in college basketball’s purity. This seemed to be another way that Calipari had found to circumvent the system. His very process of often encouraging players to opt for the NBA after a short time on campus went against the fabric of the term student-athlete. “We’re not here as a feeder system,” Bob Bowlsby, then Stanford’s athletic director, said to USA Today. “We’re here to educate young people and that’s what it ought to be about.” But Calipari’s detractors never had a true appreciation of his views, which came from the standpoint of a longtime college basketball insider. He helped families achieve their dreams. He argued that he worked within the confines of the system’s rules—a system that he too disliked. He would not stop recruiting the country’s best players, even if their college stays were brief. “Let me make this very clear: I want to coach players for four years,” Calipari wrote in his book, Players First: Coaching from the Inside Out. “Very few of the young players are truly ready for the rigors of the NBA. All but a handful would benefit from more time playing college basketball, more class time and more time on a college campus.” In his book, Calipari argued that the age minimum should be raised, so that a player cannot enter the NBA until two years after his high school class graduated. By that time, through summer classes, a player would be about a year from gaining his degree, instead of three years. Calipari wrote that it would be “stupid” for basketball to employ a baseball-like system, with players either declaring for the NBA out of high school or mandated to remain in college for at least three years. “I don’t have another word for it,” he wrote. “The NBA doesn’t want high school kids and it doesn’t have a whole minor-league system to develop them. The baseball rule would keep some kids in college basketball for three years who want to be in the NBA—without improving their situation in any way. Do we want a whole generation of kids, many of them urban kids, who don’t strive for education? Are we encouraging them to go directly to the NBA out of high school?”

  Calipari used the rules to his advantage. Most college coaches initially rejoiced after the implementation of the age minimum. The best players could no longer circumvent college. A coach who spent years recruiting a player would at least have the opportunity to coach him for a season. In 2006–2007, Texas coach Rick Barnes coached Kevin Durant for a season. At Ohio State, Thad Matta rode Greg Oden and Mike Conley Jr. into the NCAA championship game, then the pair declared for the NBA after their freshmen years. The age minimum helped restore college basketball’s visibility. It confirmed the decision of CBS and Turner Sports to pour $10.8 billion into broadcasting the NCAA tournament as part of a 14-year deal inked in 2010—at least they would be able to broadcast the best players for a tournament before they declared for the NBA. That lucrative contract prompted a greater debate. The athletes who were televised did not share in the riches beyond their scholarships, due to the NCAA’s archaic rules concerning amateurism. Players like O. J. Mayo were destined for the NBA from an early age. Mayo spent a short time in college at the University of Southern California before setting off for an NBA career. After his departure, it was found that Mayo had accepted benefits deemed illegal by the NCAA. He was already a professional by the time the NCAA penalized the university. But even coaches once wary of recruiting one-and-done players were forced to come around or risk being unable to compete. Mike Krzyzewski, the famed Duke coach, once refused to look at players he thought would quickly advance to the NBA. But in 2010–2011, Kyrie Irving played under him for just 11 games before becoming the NBA’s top pick. Four years later, three Duke freshmen—Jahlil Okafor, Justise Winslow, and Tyus Jones—played pivotal roles in leading the school to a national championship before declaring for the NBA draft. Principle is one thing. Winning is another. In that vein, Krzyzewski was just like Washington’s owner Abe Pollin, who at one point declined to scout high school players only to come around as the risks of possibly passing on the next superstar became too great.

  The 2006 NBA draft featured only two players—Tyrus Thomas and Shawne Williams—who had declared for the NBA after their freshman season. The following draft’s lottery featured six freshmen players, a number that remained relatively steady as high school players became disallowed to submit their names into the draft. The annual exodus of freshman became so noticeable that even President Barack Obama spoke about it. “I have to say that I don’t begrudge young people if they’ve got an opportunity to look after their family to go ahead and get an NBA contract and then go back to school, hopefully, and get their degree if that’s the right choice,” Obama said while talking to ESPN’s Andy Katz in 2014. “I’m more concerned with the young people who are not going to have the chance to go to the NBA, and are they getting treated well by these schools.”

  In 2013, Bill Self landed Andrew Wiggins at Kansas. Everyone expected Wiggins, the son of a former NBA player, to stay on campus just long enough to play his freshman season. Wiggins did just that before becoming the top pick in the 2014 draft. “I really don’t know what the answer is,” Self said. “I really don’t. I find it very difficult to believe that a young kid coming from a poverty situation has a chance to provide in ways that they never dreamed about and the one holdup is, ‘Well, he’s not quite ready. He needs one more year in college.’ That one year of college could potentially be detrimental. Even though, I think, in four out of five cases, it’d probably be very beneficial.”

  Self’s comments echoed those of many college coaches. They remained split on how best to remedy the current structure. “The amount of distractions these guys have to deal with [is difficult], as people try to get to them or entice them or money is changing hands,” said Billy Donovan, the former University of Florida coach before he decided to coach the NBA’s Oklahoma City Thunder. “What ends up happening is the school pays the price. A kid or his family could be somewhat naive through all this stuff. It just creates a lot of uncertainty. My thing has always been, if a kid wants to go college and a kid wants to experience that, he should have the opportunity to go ahead and do that. If the kid wants to pursue a professional career, fine. But I also get the NBA’s side, from an emotional standpoint, a maturity standpoint, and maybe a basketball standpoint. These guys aren’t ready to contribute. If I was coaching in the NBA, I’d probably want more veteran guys. So I see both sides of it.”

  •••

  John Calipari was not the only who reinvented himself after the rule change. Sonny Vaccaro, the godfather of sports marketing who helped incentivize college basketball, returned to rail against the system he helped create. Vaccaro left the shoe business in 2007, shortly after the NBA raised its age minimum. He closed his camps and advocated paying college athletes, arguing agai
nst the belief that attending college fit every single kid. From his personal history, he knew that some simply did not want to pursue a higher education. Now, the rules mandated they do so. He thought the system unfairly penalized the athletes and he toured the country speaking out against the NCAA. He also helped Ed O’Bannon, a former star at UCLA, and a group of plaintiffs in their lawsuit against the NCAA for refusing to compensate players for their names and likenesses. The irony of his position was not lost on those who disliked Vaccaro, believing he spoke for or against the side that most benefited him. “College is a trick under the system that’s employed now,” Vaccaro said. “I don’t think college coaching has anything to do with maturity if you’re a super talent. I don’t think by going to college you actually get better. You put in time. There’s nothing wrong with going to college. But we’ve had the greatest success in the history of basketball by kids who had never played college.”

  In time, Vaccaro found something of a loophole in the age minimum. The best high school players, he believed, could play professionally overseas for a season if they did not want to attend college. He had the contacts and believed there would be an international market for fans to see tomorrow’s top NBA talent today. That way, the player could be paid and devote his full attention to basketball, improving his skills and boosting his draft stock. Vaccaro voiced those views on a weekly radio show he appeared on called Loose Cannons. Soon after finishing one show, he received a telephone call from Brandon Jennings.