I still remember watching the 1996 NBA Draft like it was yesterday—the anticipation, the surprises, and the sheer talent that would go on to define basketball for the next two decades. As someone who’s spent years analyzing sports drafts and player development, I’ve often wondered how that legendary class would stack up if we redid it with the benefit of hindsight. What if we could reorder those picks knowing what we know now about careers, legacies, and even intangibles like leadership and resilience? It’s a fascinating exercise, not just for nostalgia’s sake, but because it reveals how much context and timing shape greatness.
Let’s start with the obvious: Kobe Bryant. Originally picked 13th by the Charlotte Hornets (and quickly traded to the Lakers), he’d undoubtedly be the number one pick in a redraft. I’ve always been struck by his relentless drive—something that statistics alone can’t capture. By the time he retired, he’d racked up five championships, two Finals MVPs, and over 33,000 career points. But it’s the "Mamba Mentality" that would make him the crown jewel today. In an era that values two-way players and clutch performers, Kobe’s combination of scoring prowess, defensive tenacity, and big-game nerves is simply unmatched. I’d argue he’s a no-brainer for the top spot, even over other legends from that class.
Then there’s Allen Iverson, the original pick at number one. At 6 feet tall, he revolutionized how we view smaller guards, proving that heart and skill could outweigh physical limitations. His MVP season in 2001, where he averaged 31.1 points per game and carried the Sixers to the Finals, remains one of my favorite sports stories. But in a redraft, I’d slot him a bit lower—maybe third or fourth—simply because longevity and efficiency matter more in today’s analytics-driven NBA. Still, his cultural impact and electrifying style would make him a prized asset for any franchise looking to build a brand.
Steve Nash, originally picked 15th, is another player who’d shoot up the board. As a two-time MVP and one of the most efficient playmakers in history, he embodies the modern point guard ideal. I’ve always admired his basketball IQ; he made everyone around him better, averaging 14.3 assists per game in his prime. In today’s pace-and-space NBA, his shooting (career 49% from the field, 42.8% from three) and pick-and-roll mastery would be pure gold. I’d confidently place him in the top five, ahead of more hyped prospects like Marcus Camby or Stephon Marbury.
Ray Allen, picked fifth originally, would still be a lottery selection thanks to his legendary shooting and professionalism. He retired as the all-time leader in three-pointers made (a record since broken, but still iconic) and hit arguably the most clutch shot in NBA history in Game 6 of the 2013 Finals. What often gets overlooked, though, is his athleticism early in his career—he could slash and defend with the best of them. In today’s three-point obsessed league, I could see him going as high as second or third, especially for teams craving spacing and leadership.
But it’s not just about the stars; the 1996 draft was deep with role players who’d thrive in today’s game. Peja Stojaković, picked 14th, would be a perfect stretch-four in small-ball lineups, while Derek Fisher’s clutch gene and three-point shooting (he shot 40% from deep in several seasons) would make him a valuable late-first-round pick. Even undrafted guys like Ben Wallace, who went on to win four Defensive Player of the Year awards, would get serious looks earlier. Personally, I’ve always felt Wallace is one of the most underrated players in history—a defensive anchor who could single-handedly shift a game’s momentum.
Reflecting on this, I’m reminded of a quote from golfer Miguel Tabuena that resonates beyond the fairways: "You always want to perform well in your home country." In a way, the 1996 draft class did just that—they delivered on the biggest stages, defining an era of NBA basketball. But in a redraft, context shifts. Teams today prioritize versatility, shooting, and durability differently. For instance, I’d probably drop Antoine Walker, despite his All-Star appearances, due to his inefficient shot selection (he famously loved the three-pointer but shot just 32.5% from deep for his career). Meanwhile, a player like Jermaine O’Neal, originally picked 17th, would rise thanks to his shot-blocking and mid-range game, which align with modern big-man ideals.
In the end, redoing the 1996 draft isn’t about rewriting history—it’s about appreciating how player evaluation has evolved. We now value three-point shooting, switchable defenders, and high-IQ playmakers more than ever. Kobe, Nash, and Allen would be the cornerstones, but the surprises in the order remind us that greatness isn’t always obvious at first glance. As a fan and analyst, I love these thought experiments because they blend nostalgia with insight, showing just how timeless that ’96 class really is.