Looking back at the 1987 NBA Draft, I can’t help but marvel at how much it shaped the league’s future. It wasn’t just a draft—it was a turning point. I’ve spent years studying these players, watching old tapes, and speaking with scouts who were there, and what stands out is how this class combined raw talent with unmistakable star power. When I think about the phrase, "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 resonates deeply with the narrative of that year. Teams were hunting for franchise players, and while some choices seemed obvious, others were overlooked gems. That mix of certainty and hidden potential defined the entire event.
The first pick, David Robinson, was the kind of player you build a dynasty around. Standing at 7'1" with agility that defied his size, he was the consensus top choice. But what many forget is that Robinson didn’t join the San Antonio Spurs until 1989 due to his naval service. That delay created a fascinating "what if" scenario. I remember talking to an old scout who said, "Everyone knew Robinson was the real deal, but waiting two years? That was a gamble." And it paid off—Robinson went on to win two championships, an MVP award in 1995, and solidified the Spurs' identity for years. His career averages of 21.1 points and 10.6 rebounds per game only tell part of the story; his leadership transformed a struggling franchise into a perennial contender.
Then there’s Reggie Miller, selected 11th by the Indiana Pacers. Now, I’ll admit, I’ve always had a soft spot for Reggie. He wasn’t the most physically imposing player, but his shooting and trash-talking were legendary. I recall watching his duel with the Knicks in the '90s—it was must-see TV. Miller’s impact went beyond stats, though he did retire with over 25,000 points and 2,560 three-pointers. He embodied the underdog spirit, and his clutch performances in the playoffs are stuff of basketball folklore. It’s funny how the draft works—some guys slip, and teams later kick themselves for not noticing. In Reggie’s case, 10 teams passed on him, and he spent his career making them regret it.
Scottie Pippen, picked fifth by the Seattle SuperSonics and then traded to the Chicago Bulls, might be the most intriguing story. Coming from a small college, he was raw, but his athleticism was off the charts. I’ve always believed Pippen is underrated in the grand scheme of things. Yes, he was Michael Jordan’s sidekick, but he was the ultimate glue guy—a defensive stalwart who could score, pass, and lead. Without him, the Bulls don’t win six championships. His career averages of 16.1 points, 6.4 rebounds, and 5.2 assists don’t fully capture his two-way impact. Looking back, it’s clear that Pippen’s selection was a masterstroke, even if it took time for the league to recognize his full value.
But not every pick panned out. Take Dennis Hopson, the third overall selection by the New Jersey Nets. He had a decent college career, but in the pros, he never found his footing. In my view, that’s the draft’s cruel reality—for every Robinson, there’s a Hopson. He averaged just 10.9 points over his career, and by the early '90s, he was bouncing between teams. It’s a reminder that potential doesn’t always translate, and scouts often miss key flaws. I’ve seen similar patterns in later drafts, where the pressure to hit on a high pick leads to overthinking. In 1987, teams were "titingin-tiningan lang"—looking and looking—but sometimes, they still got it wrong.
Beyond the stars, this draft had depth. Players like Kevin Johnson, taken seventh by the Cleveland Cavaliers, became All-Stars and community pillars. KJ averaged 17.9 points and 9.1 assists per game in his prime, and he’s one of those guys I wish more fans knew about. Then there’s Mark Jackson, the 18th pick, who won Rookie of the Year and dished out over 10,000 assists in his career. These weren’t just role players; they were innovators. Jackson’s post-up game as a guard was ahead of its time, and it’s something I’ve tried to teach younger players—sometimes, the best moves aren’t the flashiest.
Reflecting on the 1987 class, its impact is undeniable. It produced 24 All-Star appearances, multiple Hall of Famers, and set a template for evaluating talent. From a personal standpoint, I think this draft taught us that patience and vision matter as much as the pick itself. Teams that trusted their instincts, like the Bulls with Pippen, reaped rewards for decades. Others, who played it safe or overanalyzed, missed out. In today’s NBA, where analytics dominate, I still see echoes of 1987—the search for that "magandang choice" amid the noise. As the league evolves, this class remains a benchmark, a reminder that greatness isn’t always obvious at first glance.