TBP Live from the 2024 NBA Draft

I live out a childhood dream. So do the players, or whatever

I love the NBA Draft a lot. In fact, I look forward to it so much every year that I can tell you exactly where I watched each draft since 2007. And I’m going to:

2007: I watched this draft from my living room in Oregon, screaming at the television that Kevin Durant was the right pick. Pain

2008: At my friend Vivek’s house

2009: Didn’t watch this draft because I was attending the AC Green summer basketball camp. Good guy

2010: Living room again

2011: Living room. Thought Derrick Williams should have gone #1. No one hits 1.000, give me a break

2012: Listened on the radio in the car for some reason. I do not remember where my family was going. Thought Thomas Robinson should have gone #2 to my Bobcats

2013: Living room. This will sound like a Lebron-level lie, but I swear I thought “They’re taking Anthony Bennett” about five minutes before David Stern announced the pick

2014: At my friend Rene’s house before summer soccer workouts. Nearly fainted at the Frank Kaminsky pick

2015: In a hotel room, for some reason. Do not remember what city I was in. Thought Jahlil Okafor was the clear top pick

2016: I have zero memory of watching this draft. I was 18 years old so it’s safe to assume I was doing something that removed approximately six years from my lifespan

2017: Living room

2018: At my friend (and loyal TBP reader) Mitch’s house (hi Mitch.) Shai Gilgeous-Alexander was a Hornet for two minutes and 31 seconds, and they were glorious. Then they traded him for Miles Bridges so I laid on Mitch’s floor, groaning

2019: Living room

2020: Ex-girlfriend’s house (hope she’s doing well) and ran in circles like a child when the Hornets drafted LaMelo

2021: Same as 2020, this time doing a happy dance when the Hornets drafted James Bouknight and Kai Jones. I never claimed to be a draft scout

2022: Garage in Fishtown with my friend Rich

2023: Apartment in West Philly

2024: Barclays Center!

That’s right, The Broken Press was on the scene at the 2024 NBA Draft and though I was a tad disheartened when I didn’t hear my name called in the first round, I had a fabulous time. On Wednesday morning, draft day, my pal Cole picked me up on his way up from DC and off to Brooklyn we zipped.

I regret to inform you that Brooklyn is very cool. Part of me was hoping that I would despise it because all your friends who look exactly like me move to Brooklyn and I didn’t want to fit the stereotype but I won’t lie to you, dear reader, so I will say the food was phenomenal (see biscuits & gravy and brisket breakfast sandwich below), the parks are great, the neighborhoods are cool, and it’s obviously highly accessible. You win this round, Brooklyn— though you get docked points because I saw too many of those awful modern, flat, gray & black apartment buildings which make me want to commit violent acts. Few things anger me more than those fucking condos. Who thinks those look good? Certainly no subscribers of The Broken Press because we have taste and abhor both the aesthetic and cultural consequences of gentrification. Anyway…

Our assigned seats at the draft were in the 300s (AKA the working man’s section) and that’s where we watched the lottery picks.

This draft was a funky one to attend because, well, the top prospects were virtual unknowns to casual NBA fans— and even lots of diehard NBA fans. Besides the contingent of French men in matching red “NBA Draft 2024” collared shirts we met at the bar before the draft, I’d venture that about 50% of the crowd was familiar with Zacharie Risacher, which caused the reaction when he was picked first overall to be a mix of lukewarm cheeriness and indifference.

By far the biggest crowd reaction of the night came when Memphis selected Zach Edey ninth overall, though it was closer to a collective gasp than either a cheer or groan. Edey is a humongously accomplished college basketball player (2x NCAA Player of the Year, 2x All-American, 3X All- Big Ten) but was viewed as a fringe NBA prospect until his senior season at Purdue so to watch him become a top-10 draft pick, especially to a good team that he might get legit minutes on, was pretty surreal.

After the lottery, when the 100 level mostly cleared out, we perused on down to get a better view of the stage, where we stayed put for the remainder of the first round.

Apparently we picked the right spot, because the cameras loved us.

Not sure why I was dancing during the Magic pick, but I really am hitting that thing… can I be on the draft panel next year @ESPN you already let Kendrick Perkins on there and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about so how much worse could I be?

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The most memorable part of the draft for me was sitting near the friends and families of draft picks. Throughout the first round, anytime a guy got picked, a small section of fans would collectively lose their minds, screaming and cheering and crying and filming videos on their phones. It was really cool to see. Did I have any idea who Yves Missi was before this draft started? Of course not! But seeing all of his friends go nuts when his name was called made me want to see him thrive in the NBA. I don’t know the journey’s of any of these players, I don’t know what it took for them to get to this moment, but seeing the culmination of it all will never get old.

Adam Silver tried to ruin my first-ever draft experience by making it a two-night event, which is monstrously stupid if you ask me, but he was unsuccessful! The draft is so silly and rules so hard and I had a blast.

Also, Jared McCain to Philly is perhaps my favorite pick of the draft, if for no other reason than I think it’s a hilarious (but kind of perfect) fit. Godspeed, TikTok Boy!

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But there is something about this draft that caused irreversible damage to my psyche and we have to talk about it.

So, for as long as I can remember, every time the commissioner walks onto the stage to announce a pick, this jingle has played:

I love this sound effect; forever, I’ve correlated it with the NBA Draft.

This year, ESPN still played the jingle on TV, but in person, that jingle was replaced with the fucking State Farm sound. You know the one. Like a good neighbor… that one.

I understand that everything is a money-making opportunity, and when you’re running a business, you have to turn a profit wherever you can. But the NBA seems willing to nuke the aesthetics of its entire league (an important aspect when the whole point of your business is to get people to watch / interact with the product) for the sake of, in this case, fucking State Farm. Or the SoFi Play-In Tournament. Or the NBA Finals presented by YouTube TV.

Things can just exist; everything doesn’t have to be sponsored by a mega-corporation, I promise. Most of us would prefer they weren’t!

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Until next time!

P.S. Anthony would like me to clarify that that’s a Marco Belinelli jersey, not Zach Lavine.

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What I’m Listening to: MAVI

What a talent.