In the world of sports drafts, there’s a certain kind of regret that lingers like a bad decision. It’s the feeling that someone knew a player was going to be special, yet they let them slip through their fingers. Bill Simmons recently called out the Dallas Wings for what he sees as a Luka Dončić-level draft blunder, but this isn’t just about picking the wrong player—it’s about how we define ‘value’ in sports. What makes this particularly fascinating is that Simmons isn’t just critiquing the Wings’ choice; he’s drawing a parallel between two entirely different leagues, two different eras, and two different kinds of talent. And that’s where the real story lies: in the messy, human calculus of picking players.
Let’s start with Luka Dončić. In 2018, he fell to third overall behind DeAndre Ayton and Marvin Bagley III. At the time, it felt like a seismic shift in the NBA’s power structure. Ayton and Bagley were college stars, but they never became All-NBA players. Luka, meanwhile, has become a transcendent force. The lesson here isn’t just about picking the best player—it’s about recognizing that sometimes, the best player isn’t the one who fits your immediate needs. But here’s the thing: the WNBA isn’t the NBA. The stakes, the timelines, and even the culture are different. So when Simmons compares Olivia Miles’ fall to third overall in the 2024 WNBA draft to Luka’s 2018 drop, he’s not just being hyperbolic. He’s inviting us to question whether the same principles apply across leagues. And honestly? I think he’s onto something.
Olivia Miles is a phenomenon. She’s averaging 19.6 points and 6.0 assists as a rookie, leading the league in both categories. Her ability to dominate games—32 points, eight rebounds, eight assists in one game—feels like a glimpse into the future of women’s basketball. But here’s what’s wild: she’s doing this without her team’s best player, Napheesa Collier, who’s still recovering from surgery. Meanwhile, Azzi Fudd, the Wings’ first-round pick, is thriving in her own right. She’s a sharpshooter, a defender, and a steal machine. Yet, the narrative is already leaning toward Miles as the clear standout. This raises a deeper question: are we comparing these players too soon? After just 30 games, can we even begin to judge their legacies? Or are we simply projecting our biases onto young talent, as if the WNBA is a microcosm of the NBA’s draft drama?
The Dallas Wings’ decision to take Fudd over Miles isn’t just about talent—it’s about fit. Fudd is a shooter, a role player who can thrive in a system that values spacing and defense. Miles, on the other hand, is a ball-dominant guard, much like Paige Buecker and Arike Ogunbowale, who are already on the Wings’ roster. This isn’t just about chemistry; it’s about identity. If the Wings want to build around their existing stars, Fudd might be the cleaner fit. But that doesn’t mean Miles isn’t a generational talent. What many people don’t realize is that the WNBA is still figuring out its own version of ‘the next Luka.’ Candace Parker was the only rookie to win MVP in 2008, and now we’re debating whether Miles could break that streak. That’s not just a testament to her skill—it’s a reflection of how far the league has come.
And yet, there’s a risk in this narrative. By framing Miles’ draft drop as a ‘mistake,’ we’re setting up a binary: either you pick the best player, or you fail. But what if the Wings made the right call for their team? What if Fudd’s ability to space the floor and defend multiple positions is exactly what the Wings need to compete in 2024? This isn’t just about Olivia Miles—it’s about the tension between individual brilliance and team-building. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Simmons’ comment has reignited debates about the WNBA draft’s future. Will teams start prioritizing ‘impact players’ over ‘fit’? Or will they stick to the tried-and-true formula of selecting the best available talent, no matter the consequences?
What this really suggests is that we’re entering a new era for the WNBA. The league is no longer just about established stars like A’ja Wilson or Diana Taurasi. It’s about young, dynamic players who can change the game in an instant. Miles and Fudd are both products of this shift, but they represent different paths: one is a generational talent who might redefine the league, and the other is a strategic pick designed to win now. The question isn’t just who’s better—it’s which path leads to long-term success. And honestly, I think the answer might surprise us. Because in sports, as in life, the most important decisions aren’t always the easiest ones to make.
