Kyle Filipowski will be a good pro

And other college stars who could surprise in the league (and also The Bronny Thing, which is driving me insane)

On March 9, 2012, I covered an otherwise forgettable Big Ten tournament game between Michigan State and Iowa. The former blew out the latter, thanks in large part to another brilliant performance by Michigan State senior forward Draymond Green, who had 21 points (on 8-of-13 shooting), 10 rebounds, five assists, three blocks and a steal in the Spartans’ 92-75 win. A very famous sportswriter was sitting one chair over on press row. At some point in the second half he took note of Green, leaned over and asked: So — what’s this kid’s deal?

This kid’s deal, so to speak, was that he was probably the best player in college basketball that season. He was certainly the best player in the Big Ten. Green was rounding out a career that would make him among the most decorated rebounders and all-around performers in Tom Izzo’s tenure as Michigan State coach, and maybe in school history. He was really freaking good, was his deal, which even a cursory glance at any point during the 2011-12 college hoops season would have led one to understand. Yet this fellow professional there to cover him seemed to have absolutely no clue who he was.

This was dismaying, even radicalizing. Green was a fourth year senior, a late bloomer, a tweener with a game built on effort and versatility. Sure, he wasn’t the kind of guy that transcends college basketball into mainstream recognition. He was arguably not even a pro. But why was it not enough to have a great college hoops career? Why did all basketball value have to be filtered through the prism of the NBA? How do you not even know who he is?

And hey: Green was undersized for a forward, sure, but he had some stuff to him; maybe he would figure out a way to contribute in the NBA, too. Did I totally believe this at the time? Only partially. It was a stubborn reflex, a desire to see a college star come good. Harumph.

What happened next was more than that, of course: Green landed in the perfect team, next to the perfect players, with the perfect offense and the perfect coach, and then went about revolutionizing the way people think about forwards, wings, and the very concept of positionality in the NBA. His 2010s run with the Warriors is among the most influential in modern league history. Before Green, you were expected to be a certain size to play certain roles in certain ways; after him, the rules are so different they practically don’t exist.

This was an extremely satisfying outcome.

Indeed, there are few satisfactions quite like believing that a college star has a chance to be a really solid, and maybe even excellent, pro in the face of projected draft positions that suggest otherwise, and then seeing it happen after all.

Two examples from last summer: The first was Jaime Jacquez, a demonstrably very good basketball player without elite lift or speed, who once again proved for the Miami Heat that "very good basketball player” often translates across levels. The second was Trayce Jackson-Davis. Jackson-Davis never added a perimeter jumper in college, and so was never taken all that seriously as an NBA prospect, but the things he did massively improve as a junior and senior — defensive movement and coverages, rim protection, ability to play handoff/screener stuff away from the rim, sprint speed down the floor, elite interior finishing — are also things that have value in the NBA. Jackson-Davis was drafted 57th overall, landed with the Warriors, and had a much better rookie year than several dozen people drafted before him.

So: Who are this year’s guys? After two nights of NBA draft, including a second round when this whole exercise really shines, which college stalwarts have the best chance to surprise in the NBA? Which erstwhile sleepers found the ideal fit? Let’s dig in — led by one player whose second-round slippage was a genuine shock, and including some crucial interludes to discuss Zach Edey, Bronny James, and plenty more.

Kyle Filipowski, Duke forward, Utah Jazz (No. 32)

This is a little awkward. Not as awkward (or as sad) as Filipowski milling around in some sort of lobby on his way home from the draft after not being selected Wednesday night, but, still, a little awkward. This publication has never been the biggest Filipowski fan. Why? Aesthetics, mostly. Throughout his freshman year, Duke's offense never truly flowed. Its immense talent often felt as though it was tip-toeing into well-designed but ultimately sterile offensive actions, while Filipowski's bruising offensive style, and Duke’s need for him to manufacture points, gummed up the works.

This dynamic changed in year two — Duke added shooting, particularly Jared McCain's, and flowed much better — and became less stilted to watch as a result. Duke went to the Elite Eight and had a great season. But even so you (or, well, I) couldn’t escape the sensation that the Blue Devils could have been something much more.

Still: Forget all of that. Forget aesthetics and flow. Kyle Filipowski was an awesome college basketball for two consecutive seasons, particularly last year, when he refined his offense and became a really reliable 3-point shooter. He measured 6-foot-11 without shoes at the combine, so let’s give him seven feet, and he shot 34.8 percent from 3 and 56.0 percent from 2. He drew fouls, he blocked a healthy rate of shots, he rebounded both ends, and he was genuinely tough — not a lanky soft outside-in 7-footer but a guy who could hold his place on the block against everyone not named DJ Burns. Filipowski spent most of his life being regarded as a likely first-round pick. Even Wednesday morning, there were few indications that was about to change. Concerns about confidence in workouts (and/or weird off-court stuff?, which got very weird Thursday, and which let’s just not touch at all, my goodness) aren’t good enough reasons to let a blue-chip talent and proven star slip to the second round.

Any team that took him Thursday night was going to get a steal. The Jazz should be thrilled.

Interlude No. 1: A quick word about Zach Edey