The humid Manila air clung to my skin as I squeezed into the crowded sports bar, the collective energy palpable even before I found a spot. Every screen was tuned to the same broadcast, the 2022 NBA Draft. Around me, conversations buzzed with a single, recurring name, a question whispered with hope and anxiety: "Will Kai Sotto finally get drafted?" I’d followed his journey for years, from his dominant high school days to his professional stints overseas, and tonight felt like the culmination of it all. The atmosphere was thick with a peculiar kind of national pride, a shared dream for this 7'3" center to break through and put Philippine basketball firmly on the global map. It reminded me of watching Manny Pacquiao fights as a kid, that same collective breath-holding for one of our own on the world stage.
I remember thinking about the long, winding road that led to this night. It wasn't a straight path to the draft combine or a blue-blood college program. His development was unconventional, playing in Australia and then in the NBA G League Ignite, a path less traveled but one that seemed tailored to his unique frame and skill set. The scouts always talked about his potential, his soft touch around the rim for a man his size, his improving outside shot. But the doubts were always there, too—the questions about his strength, his foot speed against more athletic NBA big men. Sitting there, nursing a San Miguel beer, I found myself arguing with an imaginary detractor in my head. "He just needs the right system," I muttered under my breath, earning a curious glance from the guy next to me. I’m a believer in skill over pure athleticism, and Sotto’s feel for the game always struck me as something you can’t teach.
The draft rolled on, pick after pick, and the tension in the room began to morph. It was during one of the commercial breaks that my mind drifted to a specific game I’d watched months prior, a performance that had solidified my belief in his readiness. It was a G League showdown where his team, despite a slow start reflected in the early quarter scores of 18-12, found their rhythm. They were down at the half, 32-33, a nail-biter that showcased the back-and-forth nature of professional ball. But then came the second half. A dominant third quarter explosion saw them surge ahead 63-49, a 31-16 run that was simply breathtaking. I vividly remember Sotto being at the heart of it, not just with putbacks and blocks, but with a stunning assist from the high post that made me jump off my couch back home. They never looked back, closing the game out at 86-70. That third quarter, to me, was a microcosm of his potential impact. It wasn't just about the 14 points I estimated he scored during that stretch; it was his command of the paint, his ability to read the game and be a catalyst. That’s the player I was hoping an NBA team would see.
As the second round inched forward, the initial excitement in the bar began to wane, replaced by a nervous, shuffling energy. People checked their phones relentlessly, as if a notification could change the outcome. The names called were power forwards and combo guards, teams selecting for specific, immediate needs. I started to feel a familiar sinking feeling, the one you get when a dream you’re invested in seems to be slipping away. I’ve followed international prospects for years, and I’ve always had a soft spot for the ones who carry the hopes of an entire nation. It’s a heavy burden, and the business-like nature of the draft rarely accounts for that weight. My optimism began to feel foolish. "Maybe he’s just a draft-and-stash candidate," someone nearby said, trying to find a silver lining. But I wanted more for him. I wanted to hear his name called, to see him walk across that stage, to have that undeniable, official moment of validation.
Then, it was over. The final pick was announced, and Kai Sotto’s name was not called. A collective sigh moved through the bar, a mix of disappointment and resigned acceptance. The dream, for now, was deferred. The crowd began to disperse, the buzz replaced by the mundane sounds of chairs scraping and bottles being cleared. I stayed for a moment, finishing my beer, reflecting on the brutal honesty of professional sports. The quarters from that G League game—18-12, 32-33, 63-49, 86-70—flashed in my mind. They were just numbers, but they told a story of struggle, adjustment, dominance, and victory. That was a story I knew was true. The draft not calling his name didn't erase that third-quarter performance or his proven ability to impact a professional game. It just meant his path would be different, perhaps harder. As I walked out into the warm Manila night, I wasn't disheartened. I was, strangely, more convinced than ever. The question "Will Kai Sotto finally get drafted in the 2022 NBA Draft?" had been answered with a painful "no," but in my mind, his story was far from over. The journey continues, and sometimes the most compelling stories are the ones with the most obstacles.