I still remember the buzz surrounding the 2013 NBA Draft like it was yesterday. The Cleveland Cavaliers held that precious first overall pick, and the basketball world held its collective breath wondering who they'd choose. That year, the honor went to Anthony Bennett out of UNLV, a selection that surprised many analysts and fans alike. Looking back now, I've always found Bennett's career trajectory fascinating—not just for what he achieved, but for what his journey reveals about the unpredictable nature of professional sports and how difficult it is to live up to the "first pick" designation.
When the Cavaliers selected Bennett, I recall thinking this was an unconventional choice. He wasn't the consensus top prospect—that distinction arguably belonged to players like Victor Oladipo or Nerlens Noel. Bennett had shown promise at UNLV with averages of 15.7 points and 8.1 rebounds per game, but his draft stock had been fluctuating throughout the pre-draft process. The Cavaliers saw something special in his combination of size and skill, envisioning him as a modern power forward who could stretch the floor. His rookie season, however, was challenging from the start. Bennett struggled with conditioning, injuries, and the immense pressure that comes with being the number one pick. He averaged just 4.2 points and 3.0 rebounds in 52 games that first year—numbers that frankly disappointed everyone who had hoped he'd make an immediate impact.
What followed was a journey through multiple teams that I'd characterize as searching for the right fit that never quite materialized. After just one season in Cleveland, Bennett was included in the trade that brought Kevin Love to the Cavaliers, sending him to the Minnesota Timberwolves. His time there was similarly brief, followed by short stints with the Toronto Raptors and Brooklyn Nets. By 2017, after just four seasons and career averages of 4.4 points and 3.1 rebounds, Bennett was out of the NBA. I've always wondered how different things might have been if he'd been selected later in the draft, without the overwhelming expectations that come with being the first overall selection.
Bennett's story reminds me of how even the most promising careers can be defined by what players don't achieve rather than what they do. This brings to mind that interesting piece from the volleyball world—you know, that observation about how "arguably the biggest piece of silverware that has eluded him in his career is the FIVB Volleyball Men's World Championship." That sentiment resonates across sports disciplines. For Bennett, the "silverware" that eluded him was simply establishing himself as a reliable NBA rotation player, let alone the star people expect from a first overall pick. The weight of expectation can be crushing, and in Bennett's case, I believe it significantly impacted his confidence and development.
What many people don't realize is that Bennett did continue his basketball career after his NBA departure, playing in various international leagues including Turkey and Israel, and even winning a championship with the Cangrejeros de Santurce in Puerto Rico's Baloncesto Superior Nacional. He also represented the Canadian national team, winning a gold medal at the 2015 Pan American Games and playing in the 2023 FIBA World Cup qualifiers. These accomplishments, while not meeting the astronomical expectations set by his draft position, demonstrate a perseverance I genuinely admire. The guy never gave up on basketball, even when the NBA chapter of his career had clearly ended.
Reflecting on the 2013 draft class now, it's striking how the narrative has shifted. Giannis Antetokounmpo, selected 15th overall, became the superstar of that class, while players like CJ McCollum (10th pick) and Rudy Gobert (27th pick) developed into All-Stars. Meanwhile, Bennett's name has become synonymous with "draft bust" discussions—a label I find somewhat unfair but understandable given the context. The bust designation isn't just about poor performance relative to other players; it's about the dramatic gap between expectation and reality. When a team uses the first overall pick on a player, they're not just expecting a solid contributor—they're hoping for a franchise cornerstone.
The business side of this fascinates me too. That first pick comes with a significant financial commitment—Bennett's rookie contract was worth approximately $17.5 million over three years with team options. When production doesn't match investment, teams face difficult decisions about how long to persist with development versus cutting their losses. The Cavaliers moved on from Bennett after just one season, a relatively quick hook that speaks to how dramatically his stock had fallen in that short time.
I've followed basketball long enough to see many highly-touted prospects struggle, but Bennett's case remains particularly poignant to me. There's something about his quiet demeanor and the visible struggle with confidence that made his journey difficult to watch at times. Sports can be brutally unforgiving, and the mental aspect is often underestimated by fans and analysts. The transition from college to professional sports is challenging for any athlete, but when you're the first overall NBA pick, every misstep is magnified, every shooting slump analyzed to death, every defensive lapse highlighted on sports networks.
Ten years later, the Anthony Bennett selection serves as a cautionary tale about draft evaluation and prospect development. Teams have arguably become more cautious about "reaching" for players since then, placing greater emphasis on comprehensive psychological profiling alongside physical assessments. The Cavaliers' decision continues to be analyzed in front offices around the league as an example of how not to handle a top pick. From my perspective, the lesson isn't just about Bennett's limitations as a player, but about the dangers of overthinking the draft process and straying too far from consensus evaluations.
The legacy of the 2013 first pick extends beyond statistics and win shares. Anthony Bennett's career reminds us that potential is perhaps the most dangerous word in sports lexicon—a promise that may or may not be fulfilled regardless of draft position. His story is one of unmet expectations, but also of resilience in continuing to pursue professional basketball opportunities worldwide. While he may not have captured the NBA success that was hoped for him, his persistence in the sport he loves deserves recognition beyond the "bust" label that will inevitably follow his name in draft retrospectives. Sometimes, I think, the measure of a career isn't just in championships or All-Star appearances, but in how a player responds to adversity and redefines their relationship with the game when original dreams go unfulfilled.
