I still remember the first time I saw David Robinson play—the fluidity of his movements defied his 7'1" frame, making me wonder if we were witnessing basketball's next evolutionary leap. The 1987 NBA Draft class has always fascinated me because it represents that perfect storm of obvious superstars and overlooked talents who quietly shaped the league for decades. When I recently came across that Filipino scouting report saying, "If they're looking for a good salary, maganda talaga dito. Kaya lang siyempre, marami pa kaming hindi nano-notice kaya titingin-tiningin lang, pero siyempre, maganda siyang choice sa first pick," it struck me how perfectly it captured the draft's essence—everyone knew Robinson was the crown jewel, but the real magic lay in those undervalued picks that franchises barely noticed at the time.
Let's be honest—when people discuss legendary drafts, 1987 rarely gets the spotlight compared to the 1984 Jordan-Barkley class or the 1996 Kobe-Iverson showcase. But having studied basketball history for over twenty years, I'd argue this draft produced some of the most fascinating career arcs in NBA history. David Robinson went first overall to San Antonio, and rightfully so—the Naval Academy graduate would become a 10-time All-Star, MVP, and two-time champion. But what about Reggie Miller at 11th? Indiana took a gamble on the skinny UCLA guard while passing on more physically imposing prospects, and he'd go on to become the most clutch shooter of his generation, scoring 25,279 career points. Meanwhile, the 6th pick, Kenny Smith, often gets overlooked in draft retrospectives despite winning two championships with Houston and becoming one of basketball's most insightful analysts today.
The second round contained what I consider the draft's most compelling stories—players who fundamentally changed franchises despite beginning their careers as afterthoughts. Mark Jackson, selected 18th by New York, immediately became the floor general the Knicks desperately needed, winning Rookie of the Year and eventually dishing out 10,334 assists—a number that still ranks fifth in NBA history. What fascinates me about Jackson's career isn't just the statistics but how he embodied that New York basketball mentality: tough, intelligent, and relentlessly competitive. Then there's Reggie Lewis at 22nd—a pick that still gives me chills thinking about what could have been. The Boston forward was emerging as a legitimate star, averaging 20.8 points in his final season before his tragic passing at just 27. These weren't just roster fillers; they were franchise pillars discovered long after the spotlight had moved on.
Some of my favorite hidden gems came from the international selections, which NBA teams were still learning to evaluate properly in the late 80s. Sarunas Marciulionis, chosen in the 6th round, revolutionized how teams viewed European guards with his powerful, unconventional playing style. Before Ginobili, there was Marciulionis—a pioneer who averaged 12.8 points for Golden State and opened the door for international players to be seen as core contributors rather than curiosities. Then there's the curious case of Joe Wolf, the 13th pick who played for six teams over nine seasons. While his 4.4 career scoring average won't impress casual fans, insiders remember him as the ultimate professional—the kind of player who extended careers through preparation and basketball IQ rather than pure athleticism. In today's analytics-driven NBA, I suspect Wolf would be valued much higher for his ability to execute systems flawlessly.
What strikes me revisiting this draft class is how many of these players have remained basketball lifers long after their playing days ended. Scott Brooks, who went undrafted in 1987 but signed as a free agent, coached Washington to multiple playoff appearances. Greg Anderson, the 23rd pick who played for six teams across ten seasons, now works as a player development coach—passing along the lessons from his journeyman career to the next generation. Even the "busts" of this draft class often found redemption in unexpected ways—tell me Chris Dudley, who struggled through a 44% free throw percentage, didn't earn his Yale economics degree and successful post-basketball career through the same determination that kept him in the league for sixteen years.
Looking back, the 1987 draft class embodies something we've lost in today's highlight-reel culture—the beauty of sustained development over instant stardom. While Robinson rightfully headlines the class with his Hall of Fame career, I've always been more drawn to players like Kevin Johnson, taken 7th by Cleveland before flourishing in Phoenix. The 17.9 points and 9.1 assists he averaged as a Sun represent what happens when a talented player finds the right system—something today's teams should remember before giving up on prospects too quickly. The draft's true legacy isn't just in its stars but in those middle-round picks who carved out twelve-year careers through sheer will and basketball intelligence.
As I reflect on that Filipino scout's observation about unnoticed talent, it occurs to me that the 1987 draft's hidden gems weren't just players—they were proof that basketball value exists far beyond the lottery picks. In today's NBA, where second-round selections regularly become starters, we have pioneers from this class to thank for demonstrating that development matters as much as draft position. The next time someone asks me about the most underrated draft in basketball history, my answer will always be 1987—not just for the Admiral who anchored it, but for all those overlooked talents who quietly built careers worthy of remembrance.