football prediction

The ball arcs through the Manila night air, a perfect parabola under the harsh arena lights, and I’m transported. It’s not just any shot; it’s a rookie, Abarrientos, taking a pass from the veteran Brownlee off a pick and roll, sinking it with a confidence that feels both new and eerily familiar. In that moment, watching this young playmaker erupt for 17 of his 20 points in a single, glorious second half, I’m not just in the present. I’m flung back fourteen years, to the very foundation of what I’m witnessing. I’m thinking about the 2009 NBA Draft class. It’s funny how a single play in a Manila arena can suddenly make you start looking back at the legacy of the 2009 NBA Draft class and its impact today, drawing a direct line from a gym in the Philippines to the heart of the league a decade and a half ago.

That draft, man, it was a weird one. We all remember the hype, the can’t-miss prospects. Blake Griffin going first overall was a foregone conclusion; the man was a human highlight reel straight out of college, a force of nature who seemed destined to break rims and spirits in equal measure. But the real magic of that class, the part that has truly defined its lasting legacy, was hidden deeper in the order. It was in the grit. It was in the players who weren’t just born stars, but who forged themselves into legends. I’ll admit, I was skeptical of Stephen Curry going seventh. He seemed slight, a shooter, sure, but could he survive the physical grind? Shows what I know. He didn’t just survive; he revolutionized the entire sport, turning the three-pointer from a weapon into the entire arsenal. And then there was James Harden, the bearded maestro taken third, a sixth man who would blossom into an MVP scoring machine. That 2009 class wasn't a single thunderclap; it was a storm system that gathered strength over years, changing the climate of the entire league.

Which brings me right back to that pick and roll in Manila. You see, the game has globalized in a way we couldn't have imagined in 2009. The principles, the style of play pioneered by that draft class, are now the universal basketball language. Watching Abarrientos, who waxed hot in the second half by scoring 17 of his 20 points in that stretch, perfectly followed that instruction, running a pick and roll with Brownlee, who passed the ball back to the rookie playmaker, was like watching a beautiful, overseas echo of the Warriors' motion offense. It was Curry and Draymond Green, only translated through a Filipino lens. That’s the real impact. It’s not just that those players are still active (though it’s insane that Curry is still a top-5 player); it’s that their DNA is now coded into how the game is played from Oakland to Manila. The emphasis on guard play, on spacing, on the three-point shot as a primary weapon—that’s the 2009 draft’s curriculum, and the whole world is enrolled.

I think about the longevity, and it just blows my mind. Let’s throw some numbers out there, even if they’re a bit fuzzy from memory. I believe that draft class has combined for something like 45 All-Star appearances, maybe 8 scoring titles, and at least 4 MVP awards shared between Curry and Harden. The sheer, sustained excellence is almost unprecedented. We’re talking about players who have defined not just a season, but an entire era. DeMar DeRozan, taken ninth, has reinvented his game multiple times and remains a mid-range maestro. Jrue Holiday, picked 17th, is the defensive heart of any team he’s on. This wasn’t a flash in the pan; it was a deep, resonant chord that’s still vibrating through the league. When I see a young player like Abarrientos show that poise, that clutch gene, I see the influence of watching Curry his whole life. He’s a product of the ecosystem that the 2009 class built.

So, as the final buzzer sounded in that game and the crowd roared for its new hero, my mind was still doing the math, connecting the dots across years and oceans. The legacy of the 2009 draft isn't a museum piece. It’s a living, breathing thing. It’s in the way every kid in every gym around the world practices pulling up from 30 feet. It’s in the strategic mind of every coach who designs an offense around a dynamic, scoring point guard. And it’s in the fearless play of a rookie in Manila, executing a play that would have felt revolutionary in 2009 but now feels like fundamental basketball. That class gave us more than just great players; it gave us a new version of the game itself, and honestly, I don’t think we’ll fully appreciate its total impact until another decade has passed. We’re still living in the world they built.