The Trae Young era in Atlanta appears to be over, and not in a way that will leave anyone happy.
The Hawks and their diminutive point guard—who can be a free agent this summer or exercise a $49 million one-year option—didn't agree to a contract extension in the offseason, leaving both sides with a great deal of uncertainty. The uncomfortable situation attained a kind of clarity when Young sprained his MCL in October and missed 22 games: This instantly made the Hawks better and more dynamic, because they no longer had to cover for Young's considerable defensive shortcomings. If Atlanta's front office still needed more evidence, they got it quickly thereafter, as the team lost and surrendered at least 126 points in the five games Young has played in since his return. Mercifully, ESPN's Shams Charania reported on Monday evening that Young's representatives are yanking the ripcord: In scoopster patois, the two sides "have begun positive and collaborative talks over the past week on finding a resolution."
Said resolution will probably be a trade of shockingly little consequence. On the one hand, Young is a 27-year-old four-time all-star with a 25-point career scoring average and he led the NBA in assists last year. On the other, he is one of the worst defenders in the league and, while he remains one of its best passers, his heliocentric style of basketball is increasingly anachronistic in today's game. In other words, the stuff Young is good at requires a style that doesn't quite work while the stuff he is bad at matters more. Given those liabilities, the bear market caused by the restrictive salary cap, and the gigantic option Young can exercise next season, the Hawks are probably not going to get much of anything for him by way of a trade. They may even have to give something up to get off of his deal.
Even the most zealous hyperball acolyte would find that state of affairs disappointing. When he is on, Young can be a great offensive player, capable of slithering past most perimeter defenders and making any pass. He gets to the line a ton and, while he's never been nearly as good a three-point shooter as his reputation would have you believe (he's been better than the league average twice in his career, now in its eighth season), defenders can't just leave him open. If a team can surround Young with shooters and keep him tethered to a rim protector/lob threat, he can in theory guarantee a decent offensive floor without the need for a star-level secondary creator.
One problem is, that style requires everyone else on the court to be content never having the ball in their hands; another is that it doesn't always work in the playoffs. Young and the Hawks did make the conference finals in 2021 after defeating a Derrick Rose–led New York Knicks team and the infamous, terminal Ben Simmons–era Philadelphia 76ers, but apart from that pandemic-truncated season they have won three playoff games in his career. That 2020–21 season was also at the zenith of small-ball in the league; since then, rotations have gotten deeper, size has become increasingly important, and defense has wrested control away from offense.
In an era when James Harden could solo-ball his way into nearly beating the juggernaut Golden State Warriors and Damian Lillard could be a playoff team practically unto himself in Portland, Young's whole deal made sense as the cornerstone of a project. Now, today, when all the best teams are either huge, athletic, or huge and athletic, that deal does not make sense at all. Point guard duties have been more democratized in the modern NBA; Young's genuinely breathtaking passing simply matters less when every player comes into the league knowing they will have to be a good passer to stay on the court.
The Hawks without Young are huge and athletic. Jalen Johnson has emerged as a hypermodern offensive engine, as he is, well, huge and athletic, and keeps the ball moving. Around him, the Hawks have great size and flexibility, and what they have lacked in Young's wizardry they have mostly made up for with cussed determination and distributed responsibility. Zaccharie Risacher and Dyson Daniels have sorely disappointed this year, but there are clearly some great building blocks here, including the New Orleans Pelicans' unprotected 2026 first-round draft pick. In short, the Hawks are squarely better without Trae Young, in both the short and long term.
So who would actually want Young? The Washington Wizards reportedly are interested, which makes some sense. Alex Sarr profiles as the ideal sort of center to pair with Young and the Wizards generally need someone who can dribble and organize the offense. Given that they are reportedly interested in dumping C.J. McCollum's contract and perhaps picking up some draft capital in exchange for taking on Young's money, however, it is fair to wonder whether the Wizards actually want Trae Young the player or merely want the second-rounders Atlanta would pay them to absorb Young's $49 million next season. Meanwhile, the Milwaukee Bucks' desperation to acquire talent—in their probably doomed attempt to placate Giannis Antetokounmpo—could lead them to swing for Young, especially if his price is so low, though the Giannis–Dame pairing didn't work precisely because both guys wanted the ball a lot. The Portland Trail Blazers need guys who can dribble, but that's mostly because everyone on the roster is hurt.
The prospect of a 27-year-old four-time all-star getting unceremoniously salary-dumped feels pretty crummy, as is the reality that nobody in particular wants one of the league's most inventive creators. More than anything it highlights how quickly the game has changed. Young is still at least young enough that he could change with it, but his days as an A-1 superduperstar seem over.
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