Head of the class: the 2000 draft class has flunked, leaving plenty of room for the 2001 rooks to bust through the door and rule the school - basketball draft

Basketball Digest, Feb, 2002 by Tom Kertes

DINING WITH NEW YORK Knicks chief scout Dick McGuire in the cozy confines of the Madison Square Garden press room is always an experience. Still, this particular meal will remain particularly memorable in the annals of "Dinners with Dicky."

Between bites of rubbery chicken-or was it chicken-y rubber?-I'm telling him about doing this magazine article that'll analyze and compare the past two NBA drafts. "So what do you think of the 2000 draft, Dicky?" I inquire in all wide-eyed innocence, expecting the customary pearls of wisdom dripping down on the questionable salad-dressing. Dicky, one of the most knowledgeable insiders on the NBA scene, looks up vaguely, gives the Michelin tire-like bird another meandering bite or two, and says: "Tom, I'm sorry, but who exactly was in that thing? I can't remember one damn name from the 2000 draft."

That, of course, is the point. You can call last year's NBA draft many things--as long as "pathetic," "abominable," and "without peer in its total lack of impact on the league" are three of them.

To stick with the dinner theme--I must be hungry--here are some of the more mournful menu items from last year's so-called talent smorgasbord:

* The Rookie of the Year, Orlando Magic forward Mike Miller, averaged just 11.9 ppg. That is the lowest point total for the top rook since the invention of the clock. And no, we don't mean the 24-second clock. We're actually talking about the first timekeeping piece ever, invented in ancient Mesopotamia around 3000 B.C. Miller, until Grant Hill's re-injury, was not even in Orlando's starting lineup this season. When was the last time the league's finest first-year force was so dissed?

* The Golden State Warriors' 6'10" center, Marc Jackson (13.2 ppg, 7.5 rpg), was considered the leading rookie lite for an extended period of time last year; in fact, the guy probably would have won the award if he didn't get hurt down the stretch. If anybody had the vaguest idea who he was, that would have helped as well. You see Jackson, not even signed until a month or so into the 2000 season, was a completely unknown free agent arriving from some godforsaken hoop outpost (Turkey? Cyprus?) no one had ever heard of. This season, Jackson is playing less than six minutes per game. And the Warriors, who first did not want to re-sign him, now can't wait to trade him.

* New Jersey Nets' freebie Stephen Jackson, another out-of-nowhere obscurity who has never attended college -- though he dropped by his high school once in a while, we hear--ranked as the top scorer among rookies for quite a few weeks early last season. This year, he's not even in the league.

And this is just the tip of the no-impact iceberg; the list of immense insignificance just goes on and on. Sure, the 2000 draft class was cursed from the get-go by the immediate season-ending injury to the Philadelphia 76ers' promising Speedy Claxton (the 20th pick had looked, well, kind of speedy in the preseason). But can the absence of some de-briefed 5'11" mite from Hofstra even begin to explain why:

* Second pick Stromile Swift (4.9 ppg, 3.9 rpg, Vancouver Grizzlies) played all year like a Bambi (with a thyroid problem) who got caught in the headlights.

* Fourth pick Marcus Fizer, allegedly the "next Karl Malone," played like the next Karl Marx.

* The Atlanta Hawks' DerMarr Johnson (5.1 ppg), the sixth selection, didn't have one-sixth of a clue.

* Seventh pick Chris Mihm, traded to the Cavaliers where he struck (out) for 7.6 ppg and 4.6 rpg, always appeared to be a step behind.

* Ninth-pick Joel Przybilla, a seven-footer traded to the centerless Milwaukee Bucks, averaged less than a point a game and was always a step behind Mihm.

* Local hero Mateen Cleaves, the Detroit Pistons' "point guard of the future" who was picked 14th, stunk up the joint and was later traded in favor of one Chucky Atkins.

And so on.... and on, and on, ad infinitum. Or is it ad nauseum? Even better, ad nausea.

Not that you could gather the true terribleness of this dreg of a draft from the insiders' comments. Aside from Dicky blanking out the whole thing--it was either Freudian forgetfulness or the foul fowl--all you can get from the scouts, GMs, and the plethora of other experts we've talked to is a lot of psychobabble like, "you can't put up numbers unless you receive playing time," "you can't judge a draft for three years," and "it really all depends on the player's particular situation on the particular team."

All true. But it's also true that you are drafted and paid an amount that might double the gross national product of Panama, to play. So, naturally, if you can play you will play.

Big minutes, too. In the Big Show.

Instead, 11th pick Jerome Moiso (Boston Celtics) played 24 games and was released. (When was the last time that happened to a lottery pick?) The Portland Trail Blazers' Erick Barkley (28th pick) played eight whole games and averaged 2.4 points per. DeShawn Stevenson (23rd) of the Utah Jazz played in 40 and put up 2.2 ppg. The Houston Rockets' Jason Collier (15th) appeared in 23 games and, comparatively, dominated (3.1 ppg).