CLEVELAND, Ohio — There was a time when basketball felt like it belonged to everyone. Hoopers could walk into any park, lace up whatever shoes, and think they had a shot. The game was a ladder. Rough and splintered, but climbable. If they showed up every day and played harder than everyone else, someone might notice. Someone might believe before self-belief took hold.
But the modern game isn’t built that way anymore.
Today’s basketball world looks more and more like a gated community, built by wealth, powered by access, and policed by a sprawling AAU machine. The players rising through the pipeline often have last names we already know. Juniors, IIs, sons of former stars, kids with parents who’ve been in the room before.
And there’s beauty in love for the game being passed down like an heirloom, generation to generation.
But there’s a cost, too.
The path that once produced hungry, overlooked dreamers has narrowed. What used to be accessible has become exclusive. The pay-to-play ecosystem pulls kids into high-priced circuits, exposure camps, and “elite” programs that require resources that some families simply don’t have.
And yet, in the cracks of this new system, a different kind of player still fights their way through.
Players who don’t arrive polished or preordained. Players who still embody the old blueprint: be relentless, be grateful and be tougher than the circumstances.
Craig Porter Jr. is a do-it-all guard
With his calm demeanor, subtle quips in the locker room, and rising consistency after a season of complacency, Porter’s building a rapport once again.AP
The self-made guard in a pre-made era
Craig Porter Jr. is just 25 years old, but he can feel the significance of this NBA season.
“I feel like for a while I approached it as just a sport through college and everything, and after a while I realized it’s more than just a sport,” Porter said before summer league.
“It’s a way of living, a way of life, honestly, just as far as competing, and I mean realistically, it’s a job. You have to take another man’s job to be able to stay in this league.”
His story began in junior college gyms, where the lights flicker and the crowds are thin, but the dreams are loud. It continued to Wichita State, where he grew into a steady hand and a do-it-all guard, only to go undrafted anyway in 2023.
And Porter is a prime example that there are still originals. Not every Junior is the son of a former player. Not every Junior inherits a map to the league. Some have to draw their own.
A two-way contract brought him to Cleveland. A standard deal followed in his rookie season as he showcased his talents as star players were sidelined.
And now he’s fighting for the Cavs to pick up his club option after this season, for a future he’s building with countless reps, for the right to say he belongs as a rotation guard in this league. Maybe even a starter someday.
At minimum, someone a team can trust.
“I want to be how people look at Darius Garland when the fourth quarter comes around and you need somebody to get your team going or rally around this guy or even just be any type of competitor at the highest level and just be able to be on those winning teams,” Porter said.
With his calm demeanor, subtle quips in the locker room, and rising consistency after a season of complacency, Porter’s building a rapport once again, especially with Garland sidelined to start the season.
It’s a reminder that reliability is a skill, and resilience is a talent.
Although Porter’s second season in the league resembled a rookie year more than a sophomore campaign due to decreased opportunities in meaningful games, tough conversations, and an internal reminder have set him back on course.
“This is the culmination,” Cavs head coach Kenny Atkinson said of his increased trust in Porter. “Me and him had some tough conversations this summer, just man-to-man, coach to player. I told him the things we needed. He agreed.
“I wasn’t satisfied with myself, how he developed last year,” Atkinson admitted. “I felt like I didn’t do a good job. This summer, I said, ‘Man, we’ve got to turn this. We’ve got to have a different approach.’ The credit is all him. He put in the work. He sacrificed a lot.”
There’s still work to do and more to prove, but Porter’s effort and willingness to do whatever it takes is beginning to make the Cavs organization wonder what his role will be when the team is fully healthy.
Nae'Qwan Tomlin's engine never stops running
After being restricted to the bench last year when the Cavs were run off the court by the Pacers, Tomlin's recent play is letting everyone know that he wants to be done watching.Joshua Gunter, cleveland.com
The kid from Rucker who never had a safety net
Nae’Qwan Tomlin’s path wasn’t traditional; maybe that’s what makes his motor feel different. And it’s not just that he went undrafted in 2024.
The AAU world never touched the now 24-year-old. The prep school showcases didn’t know his name.
His basketball education happened in Harlem. At St. Nicholas Park, at Tri-State on 145th and Lennox, at Harlem Park on 135th and the famous Rucker Park under the shadow of legends.
He didn’t grow up with access to polished systems or curated development tracks. He learned the game in fragments — pickup lessons, scattered reps, whatever court would have him.
He leaned on mentors, like Steve Barnett, the former Rucker commissioner, who saw potential in a kid still learning what school, structure, and opportunity even meant.
It’s evident in his play: raw edges paired with rare physical tools, potential waiting for shape. He’s on a two-way contract in his second NBA season, logging whatever minutes he can on a contending team, trying to turn flashes into foundation.
But the biggest thing he brings? That engine. The one that’s unteachable.
“Every time I put a limit on him – ‘Oh, he’s going to be tired’ – he’s there again and he’s there again and he’s there again,” teammate Donovan Mitchell praised. “I think we all feed off of that and he doesn’t understand how big that is for our group. It’s just great to see him continuing to elevate his play as a whole on both ends of the floor.
“His profile, the way he runs the court, his length, you know, he fits this league,” Atkinson added.
On any given night, he can flip a possession with a block, a rebound, a dunk or just a sprint that another player won’t make.
Tomlin wants to be seen.
To know that he didn’t leave anything in the tank. To make Cleveland consider him for the 15th roster spot by season’s end because two-way players can’t touch the playoffs.
And after being restricted to the bench last year when the Cavs were run off the court by the Pacers, his recent play is letting everyone know that he wants to be done watching.
That’s the thread that best ties these two together. The understanding that the platform doesn’t define the passion. Because this league — underneath the gloss and the privilege and the politics — still rewards the relentless.
The ability to play hard is a skill
Nae'Qwan Tomlin celebrates after dunking during the fourth quarter against the Toronto Raptors at Rocket Arena.Getty Images
That’s why they play harder. That’s why their teammates look at them with a different kind of respect.
For a team grappling with its own identity and mental toughness while facing questions from around the league about whether it can sustain effort and focus for 48 minutes, the Cavs might need players like Porter and Tomlin.
Even at the end of the rotation on a fully healthy team, they matter. Their energy and competitive fire can shift a possession, a quarter or even a series.
In the playoffs, when minutes and mistakes are magnified, Porter and Tomlin could bring resilience and an unteachable hunger. That mentality could help the Cavs survive tough stretches, guard against lapses and maintain intensity when stars are forced to rest. And there is a slight confidence and fearlessness that remains after working to reach a certain point and not wanting to be denied.
Why their success is beneficial for the league
The basketball world is shifting. Resources, access, and privilege shape the pipeline more than ever before. The AAU machine is irreversible. And for the NBA as an entity, it’s a good thing. The Juniors will keep coming, and the money will keep flowing.
But the line between talent and opportunity will keep blurring.
Players like Porter and Tomlin keep the old heartbeat alive.
They’re a reminder for the next generation of hoopers who are willing to scratch and claw their way to their dream. The ones who fall in love with the game on blacktop instead of hardwood. The ones who believe in themselves before anyone knows they exist.
Even if their stories are only beginning to be written, they are proof that grit still matters. That pride still matters. That hunger still matters.
And that the future of basketball doesn’t just belong to the kids with access — it belongs to the kids who refuse to be denied.
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