Wes in ESPN The Magazine

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[MisterJaylenBrownMU]

The phone wouldn't ring. It was draft night 2009, and instead of watching the event unfold with family or throwing a party, Wesley Matthews went all hermit. He holed himself up in his high school gym and pretended it was just another sticky summer night in Madison, Wis. But it wasn't. No matter how many times the Marquette grad and All-Big East second-teamer walked over to the bleachers and checked his phone, basketball in one hand, sweaty cell in the palm of his other, the damn thing wouldn't ring. The analog clock mounted high on the cinder-block wall wasn't helping. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Made five hours seem like five days.

The NBA draft, like any selection process in pro sports, is an inexact science. At best, GMs are a group of prophetic soothsayers maniacally poring over carefully crafted and closely guarded lists to make informed and infallible decisions. At worst, they're playing a million-dollar game of pin the tail on the donkey. Guys who shouldn't get drafted do. Guys who should get drafted don't. "Mistakes are made all the time in the draft," says Chad Buchanan, director of college scouting for the Trail Blazers. "Wesley's not getting drafted was a big one."

While the list of undrafted free agents who saw action in the NBA last season is relatively long -- 70 of 442, or 16% -- their pro tenures are typically not. (Since the NBA-ABA merger of 1976-77, the average undrafted free agent has lasted 2.9 years in the league, compared to six years for the drafted.) Even shorter is the list of undrafted guys who stick around long enough to carve out solid careers. Ben Wallace, Brad Miller and Udonis Haslem come to mind. Shorter still is the rundown of those who made a splash as a walk-on straight out of college and then signed a huge free agent deal before their second season.

Wesley Matthews isn't just on that list; he is that list.

After latching on with the Jazz out of training camp last season, Matthews authored arguably the best rookie campaign ever by an undrafted player straight out of college. Matthews became such an instrumental part of the Jazz that he started all 10 of Utah's playoff games and spent the majority of his 37 minutes a night shadowing dudes named Carmelo and Kobe. "To not back down from those guys tells you a lot about what he's made of," says Buchanan. "One of the hardest things to have success at as a rookie is being a good defender. And he was an undrafted rookie. It's extremely rare."

For as long as he'd been bouncing a basketball, Wesley Matthews IV expected to be drafted. His father, Wesley Matthews III, was a former first-round pick with the Washington Bullets who spent nine seasons in the NBA. They share a name and genetics, but not much else. His mother, Pam Moore, says she left Wesley's dad when their son was 2. Father and son are not close. Moore, a baller herself, played at Wisconsin. So it probably shouldn't come as a shock that Matthews was named Mr. Basketball in the Badger State as a senior at James Madison Memorial High. As a college senior, he averaged 18.3 points, 5.7 rebounds and 2.5 assists for a Marquette squad that won 25 games. At no point in Matthews' life was the NBA an uncertainty. At no point was not getting drafted an option. That is, until June 25, 2009. "Nobody grows up dreaming about being an undrafted free agent or playing in the D-League or Europe," says Matthews, 23. "That's never the fantasy. I was crushed."

Whenever a guy goes undrafted, there's always a reason. Or reasons, as was the case with Matthews. Scouts said the 6'5", 220-pound guard didn't shoot as well as he might. He wasn't overly athletic. He was a second-round talent at best, and that's where teams like to pick "stash guys"typically Euros who can be tucked overseas for a couple years at no cost. It didn't matter that he was a sticky defender. Or that he was smart enough to be recruited by Stanford. Or that he nailed his predraft interviews. "We ask guys to name as many people on our team as they can," says Buchanan. "They usually name one or two. Wesley named damn near our entire roster."

Still, Matthews' phone didn't start buzzing until the 50th pick. That's when teams start to contact players at the bottom of their lists, bubble guys they'll invite to play summer league as an undrafted free agent. To a player, being undrafted is the equivalent of being the seventh man in a game of three-on-three. But front office execs say it's a blessing in disguise. "Once it gets into the late second round," says Grizzlies VP Chris Wallace, "you're better off not being picked. Instead of being owned by whatever team drafts you, you can sit back, look at the rosters and choose the best fit."

For Matthews, the best fit was Utah. Besides featuring a structured, system-based offense that was well-suited to his high-IQ game, the Jazz were looking for a third shooting guard to provide depth behind Kyle Korver and C.J. Miles. Matthews jumped at the chance to play for the Jazz in the Orlando Summer League, one of two July sessions that serves as a showcase for the league's youngest players.

If you're a lottery pick, you come to summer league with a fat contract looking to improve. If you're an afterthought like Matthews, you come because of the dream -- and the $113 per diem. Maybe you turn heads and nab a spot at training camp in September. "But I was playing not to mess up," Matthews says. "And that's exactly what ended up happening." Those closest to him saw it. Turnovers, bad shots. He was trying too hard, forcing the issue. "He felt he had to be like Michael Jordan out there and catch everybody's attention," says Lance Young, his agent.

When the listmakers exalt you, when the commish announces your name to the world, it does wonders for your peace of mind. There's a job. There's stability. When they shun you, there is neither. Ever since draft day, nighttime had become Matthews' personal hell. He'd lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling until dawn. He'd watch Rush Hour for the umpteenth time in hopes it would lull him to sleep. Never did. Once in a while, he'd pop a Tylenol PM just so he could miss sunrise. His mother begged him to see a doctor. "It was a very trying time," she admits.

The flameout in Orlando didn't help, but it didn't hurt, either, as he had a preexisting invite from the Kings to attend the Vegas Summer League. This time he did better. "A whole lot better," Young says. "Best player on the court at times." Still, when it was over, Matthews spent the next few weeks back home in Madison, waiting and wondering. He spent three and a half hours a day commuting to Marquette for workouts. There were more sleepless nights. "The waiting," he says, "was killing me."

Not that he didn't have options. A Turkish club was offering $120,000, tax-free. "More money than my family ever had," says Matthews. But it wasn't the dream. So when the Jazz called offering an audition for the third-string shooting guard spot, he took it. "My goal was to impress them so much that they had no choice," he says. "It was all or nothing."


Spencer Heyfron
Why was Portland so anxious to snag Matthews? His reach -- and the 1.8 steals he averaged in the playoffs -- were two reasons.
Turns out it was all. Thanks to injuries to Miles and Korver before camp even broke, Matthews started a preseason game in London against the Bulls. He scored 16 points and hit three of four from three. By luck, timing and effort, Matthews earned a spot on the team, and the rookie minimum of $457,588. Then, in the third week of the season, in his first start, he put up 16 points against the Sixers. A string of 18 more starts followed. By season's end, Matthews was averaging nearly 10 points a night and he had started 48 times. In the playoffs he upped his numbers to 13.2 ppg and 1.8 spg, all while taking on opponents' biggest scorers. "He doesn't take bad shots, he has a tremendous basketball IQ, and he's a tough SOB," says one Eastern Conference scout. "He just finds a way to make plays. Not drafting him was a grave mistake."

Luckily for Matthews, and unlike the guys who did get drafted, he wasn't locked into some piddly multiyear scale wage. And this summer he was on a high-profile list that included LeBron, D-Wade, Chris Bosh: valued NBA free agents.

The Jazz told Young that his client was a top priority, just after Carlos Boozer. Matthews assumed he'd be slotted in the $4 million a year range, nine times what he made as a rookie. Lottery money. But before the Jazz and Young started negotiating, the suits in Portland, impressed with Matthews' postseason effort, faxed Young this offer: Five years, $32 million. Matthews heard this and said, "Get out of here!"

It was a front-loaded deal worth $10.3 million this season, with 90% to be paid before training camp. Too rich for Northwest Division rival Utah. This wasn't just lottery money; it is almost double what 2010's No. 1 overall pick, John Wall, will make this season. "Nobody thought I'd do anything last year and look what happened," says Matthews. "It is just surreal."

Amazing. Secure. Comfortable. Those are the words Matthews uses to describe what it feels like to sign an eight-figure contract. So far, his only impulse buy has been a $50 Samurai sword that hangs in its sheath below the wall-mounted flat-screen in his Madison apartment. He plans on buying a house for his mom and grandmother, a car for each, plus a house and car for himself. First-time homeowners, all three. Most important, his mother has gone from three jobs to zero. "Retired her just last week," he says, gesticulating with his right hand.

He's back in Madison this summer, working out at Memorial High, the same gym where he spent draft night just a year earlier. As he waves his hand, a two-inch scar is visible on the underside of his forearm. He earned it during the postseason, manning up against Kobe. It's a permanent reminder of what he did to go from unlisted to coveted. It's at the root of why he sleeps easier these days -- effort = success = security. And it's why, as he spends a hot and sticky Wisconsin night remembering another hot and sticky Wisconsin night, he doesn't even notice the clock above his head, going tick-tock, tick-tock ...

Eddie Matz is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine.

[NersEllenson]

Great article on Wesley - thanks for sharing with Non-Insiders.  If Wes can continue his progression and growth in the NBA - I could see him becoming almost as important as D-Wade to the MU program.  He certainly endorses the hell out of Buzz and Marquette, and you had to love this quote:

"He doesn't take bad shots, he has a tremendous basketball IQ, and he's a tough SOB," says one Eastern Conference scout. "He just finds a way to make plays. Not drafting him was a grave mistake."

Hopefully Lazar can have some success with the Timberwolves as well..and soon MU will be seen as a school that turns out tough, high character, high basketball IQ guys.

[PaintTouches]

That was a tremendous article. Thank you so much for posting that.

[brewcity77]

Excellent article. Thanks much, MisterDMU.

[mklenn]

great article, they forgot to mention wes splurging on that new car tho...

[Blackhat]

short bus, they mentioned wes buying a car.

[MauraDay]

There is a GREAT article about Wes in this week's ESPN The Magazine, entitled, "Dream Sequence." If you are not an insider, or don't get the mag, here it is...

The phone wouldn't ring. It was draft night 2009, and instead of watching the event unfold with family or throwing a party, Wesley Matthews went all hermit. He holed himself up in his high school gym and pretended it was just another sticky summer night in Madison, Wis. But it wasn't. No matter how many times the Marquette grad and All-Big East second-teamer walked over to the bleachers and checked his phone, basketball in one hand, sweaty cell in the palm of his other, the damn thing wouldn't ring. The analog clock mounted high on the cinder-block wall wasn't helping. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Made five hours seem like five days.

The NBA draft, like any selection process in pro sports, is an inexact science. At best, GMs are a group of prophetic soothsayers maniacally poring over carefully crafted and closely guarded lists to make informed and infallible decisions. At worst, they're playing a million-dollar game of pin the tail on the donkey. Guys who shouldn't get drafted do. Guys who should get drafted don't. "Mistakes are made all the time in the draft," says Chad Buchanan, director of college scouting for the Trail Blazers. "Wesley's not getting drafted was a big one."

While the list of undrafted free agents who saw action in the NBA last season is relatively long -- 70 of 442, or 16% -- their pro tenures are typically not. (Since the NBA-ABA merger of 1976-77, the average undrafted free agent has lasted 2.9 years in the league, compared to six years for the drafted.) Even shorter is the list of undrafted guys who stick around long enough to carve out solid careers. Ben Wallace, Brad Miller and Udonis Haslem come to mind. Shorter still is the rundown of those who made a splash as a walk-on straight out of college and then signed a huge free agent deal before their second season.


Wesley Matthews isn't just on that list; he is that list.


After latching on with the Jazz out of training camp last season, Matthews authored arguably the best rookie campaign ever by an undrafted player straight out of college. Matthews became such an instrumental part of the Jazz that he started all 10 of Utah's playoff games and spent the majority of his 37 minutes a night shadowing dudes named Carmelo and Kobe. "To not back down from those guys tells you a lot about what he's made of," says Buchanan. "One of the hardest things to have success at as a rookie is being a good defender. And he was an undrafted rookie. It's extremely rare."


For as long as he'd been bouncing a basketball, Wesley Matthews IV expected to be drafted. His father, Wesley Matthews III, was a former first-round pick with the Washington Bullets who spent nine seasons in the NBA. They share a name and genetics, but not much else. His mother, Pam Moore, says she left Wesley's dad when their son was 2. Father and son are not close. Moore, a baller herself, played at Wisconsin. So it probably shouldn't come as a shock that Matthews was named Mr. Basketball in the Badger State as a senior at James Madison Memorial High. As a college senior, he averaged 18.3 points, 5.7 rebounds and 2.5 assists for a Marquette squad that won 25 games. At no point in Matthews' life was the NBA an uncertainty. At no point was not getting drafted an option. That is, until June 25, 2009. "Nobody grows up dreaming about being an undrafted free agent or playing in the D-League or Europe," says Matthews, 23. "That's never the fantasy. I was crushed."


Whenever a guy goes undrafted, there's always a reason. Or reasons, as was the case with Matthews. Scouts said the 6'5", 220-pound guard didn't shoot as well as he might. He wasn't overly athletic. He was a second-round talent at best, and that's where teams like to pick "stash guys"typically Euros who can be tucked overseas for a couple years at no cost. It didn't matter that he was a sticky defender. Or that he was smart enough to be recruited by Stanford. Or that he nailed his predraft interviews. "We ask guys to name as many people on our team as they can," says Buchanan. "They usually name one or two. Wesley named damn near our entire roster."


Still, Matthews' phone didn't start buzzing until the 50th pick. That's when teams start to contact players at the bottom of their lists, bubble guys they'll invite to play summer league as an undrafted free agent. To a player, being undrafted is the equivalent of being the seventh man in a game of three-on-three. But front office execs say it's a blessing in disguise. "Once it gets into the late second round," says Grizzlies VP Chris Wallace, "you're better off not being picked. Instead of being owned by whatever team drafts you, you can sit back, look at the rosters and choose the best fit."


For Matthews, the best fit was Utah. Besides featuring a structured, system-based offense that was well-suited to his high-IQ game, the Jazz were looking for a third shooting guard to provide depth behind Kyle Korver and C.J. Miles. Matthews jumped at the chance to play for the Jazz in the Orlando Summer League, one of two July sessions that serves as a showcase for the league's youngest players.


If you're a lottery pick, you come to summer league with a fat contract looking to improve. If you're an afterthought like Matthews, you come because of the dream -- and the $113 per diem. Maybe you turn heads and nab a spot at training camp in September. "But I was playing not to mess up," Matthews says. "And that's exactly what ended up happening." Those closest to him saw it. Turnovers, bad shots. He was trying too hard, forcing the issue. "He felt he had to be like Michael Jordan out there and catch everybody's attention," says Lance Young, his agent.


When the listmakers exalt you, when the commish announces your name to the world, it does wonders for your peace of mind. There's a job. There's stability. When they shun you, there is neither. Ever since draft day, nighttime had become Matthews' personal hell. He'd lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling until dawn. He'd watch Rush Hour for the umpteenth time in hopes it would lull him to sleep. Never did. Once in a while, he'd pop a Tylenol PM just so he could miss sunrise. His mother begged him to see a doctor. "It was a very trying time," she admits.


The flameout in Orlando didn't help, but it didn't hurt, either, as he had a preexisting invite from the Kings to attend the Vegas Summer League. This time he did better. "A whole lot better," Young says. "Best player on the court at times." Still, when it was over, Matthews spent the next few weeks back home in Madison, waiting and wondering. He spent three and a half hours a day commuting to Marquette for workouts. There were more sleepless nights. "The waiting," he says, "was killing me."


Not that he didn't have options. A Turkish club was offering $120,000, tax-free. "More money than my family ever had," says Matthews. But it wasn't the dream. So when the Jazz called offering an audition for the third-string shooting guard spot, he took it. "My goal was to impress them so much that they had no choice," he says. "It was all or nothing."

 
Why was Portland so anxious to snag Matthews? His reach -- and the 1.8 steals he averaged in the playoffs -- were two reasons.
Turns out it was all. Thanks to injuries to Miles and Korver before camp even broke, Matthews started a preseason game in London against the Bulls. He scored 16 points and hit three of four from three. By luck, timing and effort, Matthews earned a spot on the team, and the rookie minimum of $457,588. Then, in the third week of the season, in his first start, he put up 16 points against the Sixers. A string of 18 more starts followed. By season's end, Matthews was averaging nearly 10 points a night and he had started 48 times. In the playoffs he upped his numbers to 13.2 ppg and 1.8 spg, all while taking on opponents' biggest scorers. "He doesn't take bad shots, he has a tremendous basketball IQ, and he's a tough SOB," says one Eastern Conference scout. "He just finds a way to make plays. Not drafting him was a grave mistake."


Luckily for Matthews, and unlike the guys who did get drafted, he wasn't locked into some piddly multiyear scale wage. And this summer he was on a high-profile list that included LeBron, D-Wade, Chris Bosh: valued NBA free agents.


The Jazz told Young that his client was a top priority, just after Carlos Boozer. Matthews assumed he'd be slotted in the $4 million a year range, nine times what he made as a rookie. Lottery money. But before the Jazz and Young started negotiating, the suits in Portland, impressed with Matthews' postseason effort, faxed Young this offer: Five years, $32 million. Matthews heard this and said, "Get out of here!"


It was a front-loaded deal worth $10.3 million this season, with 90% to be paid before training camp. Too rich for Northwest Division rival Utah. This wasn't just lottery money; it is almost double what 2010's No. 1 overall pick, John Wall, will make this season. "Nobody thought I'd do anything last year and look what happened," says Matthews. "It is just surreal."

Amazing. Secure. Comfortable. Those are the words Matthews uses to describe what it feels like to sign an eight-figure contract. So far, his only impulse buy has been a $50 Samurai sword that hangs in its sheath below the wall-mounted flat-screen in his Madison apartment. He plans on buying a house for his mom and grandmother, a car for each, plus a house and car for himself. First-time homeowners, all three. Most important, his mother has gone from three jobs to zero. "Retired her just last week," he says, gesticulating with his right hand.


He's back in Madison this summer, working out at Memorial High, the same gym where he spent draft night just a year earlier. As he waves his hand, a two-inch scar is visible on the underside of his forearm. He earned it during the postseason, manning up against Kobe. It's a permanent reminder of what he did to go from unlisted to coveted. It's at the root of why he sleeps easier these days -- effort = success = security. And it's why, as he spends a hot and sticky Wisconsin night remembering another hot and sticky Wisconsin night, he doesn't even notice the clock above his head, going tick-tock, tick-tock ...


Eddie Matz is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine.


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