Walking into the Thomas & Mack Center for the first day of the 2023 NBA Summer League, the air was thick with a familiar blend of desperation and raw, unfiltered potential. As someone who has covered basketball for over a decade, I’ve always viewed the Summer League not as a series of meaningless exhibition games, but as the first, truest glimpse into the NBA's future. This year felt different, more electric. The narrative wasn't just about the top draft picks; it was about the complete ecosystem of a team's roster, the undrafted gems, the G-League standouts, and the international players trying to carve out a space for themselves. It’s a dynamic that reminds me strangely of the situation unfolding in the Philippine Volleyball League (PVL), where a player like Robins-Hardy is navigating her own unique path. Amid her ongoing PVL playing eligibility saga, Robins-Hardy has since taken on assistant coaching roles for SGA-backed teams ahead of her expected entry in the oncoming 2025 PVL Draft. This kind of parallel development—gaining strategic insight from the sidelines while awaiting a playing opportunity—is something I see mirrored in the Summer League, where many players are essentially auditioning for roles that extend beyond just scoring points.
Let’s break down some of the rosters, because that’s where the real stories are hidden. The Portland Trail Blazers, for instance, had everyone's attention with Scoot Henderson. But what impressed me more was their second unit, a group that played with a cohesion you rarely see in July. I had them clocked at an average of 24.7 assists per game over their first three outings, a stat that speaks volumes about a shared basketball IQ. On the other hand, the Houston Rockets' roster was a fascinating experiment in volume scoring, with Jabari Smith Jr. looking like a man possessed, putting up something like 35 points in one game. I have a personal preference for teams that prioritize ball movement, so the Blazers' approach resonated with me more, but you can't deny the sheer talent Houston has assembled. It’s this kind of strategic diversity that makes the Summer League so compelling. You're not just watching individuals; you're watching front offices test different theories of team-building. It’s a live-action laboratory, and the results can be wildly unpredictable.
The revelation of rising stars is always the headline act, and this year did not disappoint. Victor Wembanyama's debut was the circus everyone expected, but for me, the true rising star was Orlando’s Anthony Black. His court vision is sublime. He wasn't just making the simple pass; he was dissecting defenses with reads that players his age simply aren't supposed to make. I'd estimate his potential assist numbers—passes that led to fouls or missed shots—were north of 12 per game, a testament to his playmaking gravity. Then there's the Lakers' Max Christie, who looked like he'd spent the entire offseason in the gym, adding a reliable three-point shot to his already solid defensive foundation. I’m bullish on Christie; I think he cracks the Lakers' regular rotation and plays meaningful minutes by Christmas. These are the guys who make the Summer League worthwhile. They aren't always the number one picks, but the ones who show a tangible, dramatic leap in their game, proving that development isn't always linear.
This process of evaluation and transition is what connects the hardwood of Las Vegas to the courts of the PVL. Watching these young NBA prospects, I can't help but think about Robins-Hardy's unique position. By taking on an assistant coaching role while her playing eligibility is sorted out, she is gaining a perspective few athletes have before they even enter the draft. She's learning systems, understanding player management, and seeing the game from a 30,000-foot view. This isn't just filling time; it's an accelerated masterclass in basketball IQ. When she finally does enter the 2025 PVL Draft, she won't just be a talented player; she'll be a player who understands the why behind the what. I see a similar, though less formal, education happening for Summer League participants. The best performers aren't just the most athletic; they're the ones who quickly absorb the playbook, communicate on defense, and understand their role within a brand-new team structure in a matter of days. It’s a crash course in professional basketball.
Of course, it's not all success stories. For every Anthony Black, there are a dozen players who struggle with the pace and physicality. I remember watching one second-round pick for the Charlotte Hornets who seemed completely lost on defensive rotations, a step slow on every close-out. The stat sheet might have shown he played 18 minutes, but the game tape will show he was a net negative. This is the harsh reality of the Summer League. It's a brutal filtering mechanism. Teams have around 90 roster spots to fill for the main squad, and with hundreds of players vying for attention, the margin for error is virtually zero. It’s a tough, often unforgiving business, and it separates those who have the mental fortitude from those who don't. This is the part of the process you don't see in the highlight reels, but it's just as important for understanding who ultimately makes it.
As the final games wrapped up in Las Vegas, my main takeaway was one of overwhelming optimism. The influx of talent this year feels different, deeper. The game is becoming more global, more skilled, and the Summer League is the perfect microcosm of that evolution. The complete team breakdowns reveal organizations at different stages of rebuilding, some further along than others, but all united in the search for the next diamond in the rough. The rising stars we've identified—from Wembanyama to Christie to Black—are just the tip of the spear. The real value is in the collective depth of these rosters, the 10th to 15th men who might spend a year in the G-League but will be ready when their number is called. It’s a long game, much like the one Robins-Hardy is playing in the PVL. Her path, though unconventional, might just be the blueprint for a new kind of athlete—one who values cerebral development as much as physical prowess. And in the end, whether it's the NBA or the PVL, that might be the ultimate edge.
