The draft-night special

BREAKING NEWS. BROKEN EGOS.

BALLERS ONLY!

SMACKDOWN!

Fourteen teams. One hundred and eighty-two picks. And somehow everybody thinks they won the draft.

That's adorable.

Welcome to Ballers Only SmackDown, where confidence is free and we charge extra for the explanation when you finish eleventh.

The rosters are locked in. Let's see who's full of shit.

First, the champion. Jamel Wilkins. You beat Astoria Hoops by two hundred and sixty-six points in the final. Respect.

Your complimentary respect has now expired.

Anthony Edwards. Tyrese Haliburton. Kawhi Leonard. Joel Embiid. Jamel, at what point do you stop drafting and start thanking the Academy?

You already have the trophy. Now you've ordered a red carpet for the fucking roster.

Lose with this lot and we're making you read every name out loud before you're allowed to explain.

Dwayne Patterson. First overall. Nikola Jokic.

Congratulations on your mouse working.

You finished twelfth last season. The draft has now handed you Jokic, followed by Anthony Davis and Austin Reaves.

The app gave you a Ferrari. Please don't reverse it into twelfth place.

And we're keeping Glass Factory. With this much talent, any collapse should at least make a satisfying noise.

Big TONE opened with Wembanyama, Bam Adebayo and Jalen Duren. Three picks. Three centers.

Were you drafting a basketball team or trying to get a kite out of a tree?

The roster needs a little red light on top so planes can see it.

Babycakes gets you in week one. Janise, bring guards. And a ladder.

Greek Freak. Aris and Dan. Two managers, one roster, and apparently neither man knew when the reunion was over.

Shai. Durant. Harden. Lillard. Then Paul George, DeRozan and Jrue Holiday.

Shai joined a fantasy team and found himself in a group chat with six uncles.

Yes, Kevin, the little microphone means you're recording a voice note.

And two managers means one of you can prepare the excuse while the other checks whether it contradicts last week's excuse. Efficient.

Lateef took Luka and Trae. That's a nasty opening. I hate that you've given yourself a reason to talk.

You won in twenty twenty-four. We acknowledge it. We have acknowledged it.

If you lift that old ring any higher, TONE's going to draft it as another center.

Astoria Hoops in week one. A former champion against a man who keeps winning the rehearsal. We'll get to him.

Commissioner Mike Surin: Giannis, Paolo Banchero, Jamal Murray, Zion Williamson.

You've assembled enough force to kick the door off the league office. Which is awkward, because you're the man who has to fix it.

The Kings finished tenth last year. Tenth. The commissioner had a front-row seat to his own irrelevance.

If this roster finishes there again, change the team name to Brooklyn Administrators. At least the paperwork gets completed.

Manuel. Cade Cunningham, Amen Thompson, Pascal Siakam. Good start.

But you finished eighth last season. Pulling From Deep? Brother, you were standing in the middle.

Eighth out of fourteen. Too far down to celebrate. Too far up to get a documentary about the rebuild.

And you open against Jamel. The defending champion gets a warm welcome. You get a practical exam.

Jermaine's Finest Team.

Five and fifteen.

That word "finest" is doing unpaid community service.

Jalen Johnson, Josh Giddey, Devin Booker. Booker checked the roster and discovered he'd been assigned a group project with a five-and-fifteen manager.

Then the draft added Acuff, Demin and Mikel Brown. Jermaine, the kids need a positive role model. Please let Booker handle the orientation.

Antonios took Tatum, LaMelo, Jaylen Brown and De'Aaron Fox.

What exactly are you angry about? Did the laptop fail to print a trophy?

Seventh last season. Dead center. All that anger to become the league's median household.

You play Jermaine first. Somebody's about to get a win and become absolutely unbearable about it.

Please remember who you beat.

John. Cooper Flagg at ten. Sabonis. Kyrie. Chet. Then Harper, Edgecombe, Murray-Boyles, Coward.

You've drafted a gifted-and-talented program.

The Professors won the title in twenty twenty-five, then finished fifth. Now the roster looks like you're trying to get back to the final through a student exchange scheme.

Put a championship on the syllabus, John. Another very intelligent explanation for fifth place will not count toward the grade.

On Point. Mitchell, Maxey, Mobley, Garland. That's a good opening. Annoyingly good.

You play John first. Beat him and you may receive a forty-eight-slide presentation explaining why you haven't actually beaten him.

Slide one: sample size. Slide two: Cooper Flagg's ceiling. Slide forty-eight: your win was spiritually invalid.

Take the points. Close the presentation.

Mike Petridis. Sixteen and four. Then sixteen and four again.

Thirty-two regular-season wins across two years. No title in either.

Mike has perfected the art of getting to the airport early and missing the fucking plane.

Priority boarding. Lounge access. Trophy still in departures.

Barnes and Sengun is a serious start. But this year, please stay for the flight. The championship doesn't award frequent-flyer miles.

Janise. Brunson at fourteen. Towns at fifteen. Randle in round four.

You reached the turn and started shopping like Madison Square Garden had given you a gift card.

Third in twenty twenty-five. Third in twenty twenty-six.

You've turned bronze into a loyalty program. One more and they give you a free sandwich.

The Babycakes keep getting close. This year, take the trophy home before they ask whether you want your usual table.

And now. Hiawatha.

Four wins. Fifty-six losses. Three seasons.

Four and fifty-six. Your opponents should be sending you Christmas cards.

So you've drafted LeBron James. Stephen Curry. Later, Draymond Green.

You brought both sides of the twenty sixteen Finals together to investigate what the fuck you've been doing for three years.

LeBron and Steph. Finally united against a common enemy: Hiawatha's fantasy management.

And you get Greek Freak first. Aris and Dan. Two managers against one.

Considering the record, that feels like an excessive use of personnel.

Opening matchups begin Tuesday, October twentieth. Everybody's undefeated. Enjoy this brief administrative courtesy.

Jamel has the trophy. The rest of you have a paragraph explaining why this is your year.

Set your lineups. Save your excuses.

We'll be back to read them out loud.

BALLERS ONLY. SMACKDOWN.