Editor’s Note: This story is included in The Athletic’s Best of 2022. View the full list.
Waltzing through the concourse of an airport this summer, a coach at a Division I school decided to grab a slice of pizza to tide him over during his travels. Sporting a shirt with the logo of his university, he stepped to the counter to place his order. But before he said a word, the man serving the pies interjected.
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“Hey, you recruiting Bronny?” he asked. “You gonna get him?”
The coach was not in his hometown airport. He was hundreds of miles away from campus, outside his school’s zone of fandom. Devoted fans, spurred by message board rumors and social media speculation, love recruiting intrigue, and given the opportunity will pepper a coach about a prized recruit. But the pizza man wasn’t even a fan of the coach’s school.
He just wanted to know about Bronny. Everyone wants to know about Bronny.
Bronny — given name LeBron James Jr. — is, like his famous L.A. Lakers father or a Brazilian soccer star, a single-name phenomenon. He is a 6-foot-3 combo guard with a sweet shot and a good head for the game, a senior at Sierra Canyon in Southern California, a school that, thanks to LeBron’s production company, had its basketball team featured in a docuseries.
Bronny has 6 million Instagram followers. His summer circuit did not just include games at the regular recruiting camp outposts of North Augusta, South Carolina and Las Vegas; he played in televised games in London, Rome and Paris. Bronny has a Nike deal and a Beats By Dre contract that includes a commercial with the tagline “The Chosen One vs. The Chosen Son.”
Nearly five years ago, more than a half million people viewed the YouTube video of Zion Williamson’s announcement to attend Duke. The interest in where Bronny will play post-Sierra Canyon makes that look like an off-off-Broadway production. He’s “Hamilton.” Every player before him was dinner theater.
“It’s the circus of the circumstances,’’ as one college coach puts it.
Bronny has choices. He is a top 100 recruit. Undeniably talented. He could elect to join G League Ignite, the NBA’s minor league team, or Overtime Elite, an unaffiliated facsimile. He could play professionally overseas. He could elect to train for a year and then declare for the 2024 NBA Draft, the first for which he would be eligible. But playing at least one year in college is a real possibility.
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The Athletic spoke to eight college coaches from major conference schools who have evaluated Bronny and also two NBA scouts who have seen him play. They were granted anonymity because they are not permitted to speak about high school prospects under NCAA and NBA guidelines. They praised Bronny’s mental makeup and understanding of the game. They respected how his parents are handling his recruitment. But the college coaches, to a person, also bring up a caveat.
While Bronny is talented, he is not so talented that the expectations and the circus that will accompany him to any college campus are warranted. He is not a force like Zion or a unicorn like Chet Holmgren. He’s not DJ Wagner, the top-rated player in Bronny’s graduating class, or even Amari Bailey, his former Sierra Canyon teammate and five-star recruit who is now at UCLA. Not even close. And so, in whispers, some coaches are wondering if Bronny, the player, is worth Bronny, the circus.
“The expectation doesn’t match the talent level, or at least not yet,’’ one coach says. “And that’s where it gets messy.’’
Bronny is good. That needs to be said upfront. No one praising his play to The Athletic seems to be kissing the King’s ring or paying lip service. His consensus class rank is 45; 247 Sports lists him 41st, while ESPN slates him at 34. He is good enough to play at the schools that are on his current list of suitors: Oregon, UCLA, USC, Michigan, Kentucky, Ohio State and Memphis.
Coaches and scouts who have actually evaluated — and not simply gawked at — his game like his athleticism and how he gets downhill; they say he’s got a good enough shot that he could play either point guard or shooting guard in college. To a man, they cite his high basketball IQ as a strength. “Plays the game the right way’’ comes up more than once when evaluators are asked about him. He makes the right passes, the right reads and happily plays in the context of the game. For a basketball scion, he is an exceptionally good teammate.
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They see areas where he could improve. He can be a little too unselfish. Some coaches want him to be more aggressive and separate himself from the crowd. They say he helped himself this summer by showing glimpses of an alpha mentality; in a game earlier this month in Las Vegas he dropped 31 points.
The evaluators also believe he’s been hurt a bit by his famous surname, that no matter what Bronny does, people often want more. “Every time people saw him they expected him to get 35 points because he’s LeBron’s kid,” says one college coach. “You have to like him for who he is. He’s a spot-up point guard who makes his team better.’’
True, generational freshman talents are rare. Only three have been named Naismith Player of the Year since the award began in 1969 — Kevin Durant, Anthony Davis and Williamson. Of the 15 players selected to the last three Associated Press first-team All-American teams only one — Cade Cunningham in 2021 — was a freshman.
Evaluators say Bronny’s path to the NBA might be aligned more with a player such as Villanova’s Josh Hart. A top 100 player, Hart became the Big East’s sixth man of the year as a sophomore and finally following his senior year, a first-round draft pick in 2017. He is not an NBA star; he still will make $12 million with Portland this year.
Bronny, the evaluators say, is a good ballhandler and good shooter, but not great yet at either. Everyone knew Jalen Suggs would get the ball as soon as he walked onto the Gonzaga campus; ditto Derrick Rose at Memphis and Lonzo Ball at UCLA. Bronny is not them. He might start, one coach opines, on a team in the bottom of a power league but not at a top 25 program. Bronny wouldn’t, the coach adds, start for him.
“We know who those guys are, right?” one coach says, referencing the elite guards of the past. “You just know. Right now, he just doesn’t have the talent where you’re saying, ‘OK, I’m bringing him in and he’s my guy.’ He might get there, but he’s not there yet.”
Bronny is, in essence, a four-star player with a five-star name. “If it were a no-brainer, he’d be (signed by) Duke right now. It would be done,’’ one coach says. “Or Kentucky. There’s a reason he’s not.’’
Technically, Bronny has visited just one school on his list: Ohio State. But understand these lists, often crafted through hearsay, speculation and rumor, are best judged with a heavy dose of cynicism. A school that makes the cut may be news to both its coach and Bronny, and Bronny could land at a school not yet named.
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Still, it is a logical list. For starters, the schools are sponsored by Nike. In 2003, 18-year-old LeBron signed his first deal with the shoe company; in 2022, his 18-year-old son inked his own. It seems highly unlikely Bronny would sign with a school where he has to wear, say, the three stripes of Adidas on his jersey. (Prospects choosing their school based on sneaker affiliation is nothing new. Summer league programs have been funneling recruits for decades — it was the basis of the entire FBI investigation of college basketball — but it wasn’t always a dealbreaker. High schoolers who competed on the Adidas circuit have gone to Nike schools, and vice versa. This is different.)
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Each school also has ties to the James family. LeBron is from Ohio; the family lives in Los Angeles, home to USC and UCLA; Nike’s headquarters are in Oregon; LeBron’s friendship with Kentucky coach John Calipari is well-known; both Michigan and Memphis are coached by ex-NBA stars in Juwan Howard and Penny Hardaway.
Still, there is plenty of cynicism about how this list got created. UCLA, for example, was not on the list until ESPN put the Bruins on it — the week before Bronny and his team played in that European showcase, televised on ESPN. One early list included Kansas — an Adidas school — and various reports have had Bronny as a likely lean for Oregon, Duke and Kentucky. Two years ago at least one sportsbook tabbed North Carolina Central as the favorite, arguing that Bronny would follow in the footsteps of top prospect Makur Maker, who chose Howard, an historically black college.
“He’s got schools on his list and look at what’s happening,’’ a coach says. “You’re writing about Bronny going to college.’’
But what counts as playful speculation for everyone else has real-life (and real paycheck) implications for college coaches. Their goal is not to create splashy P.R. or land the brand name; it’s to win basketball games. “Our job as coaches is to evaluate,’’ one coach says. “Not to just use some ranking or a name and take a kid. This is our job, and our job is on the line.’’
Often the easiest way to separate legitimate interest from puffery is to look at the rosters. Given Bronny’s stature, no one envisions him arriving on campus without a path to major minutes. “You’re going to need to play him,’’ one coach says.
USC already signed shooting guard Silas Demary, and with the addition of center Arrinten Page ranks as the favorite for point guard Isaiah Collier, second only to Wagner at the position in the Class of 2023. Oregon has a three-person class in the books, with rumors that the Ducks are a strong lean for small forward Andrej Stojakovic (son of former NBA star, Peja). In a transfer portal world, which requires keeping players happy while simultaneously leaving wiggle room for immediate help, a five-member Oregon freshman class seems unlikely. Ohio State has inked point guard Taison Chatman, rated just below Bronny, and just signed 2024 four-star and elite shooter Juni Mobley. At UCLA, freshman point guard Dylan Andrews seems the heir apparent to Tyger Campbell and Bailey might not be gone by the time Bronny would enroll. If Kentucky signs Wagner, the No. 1 recruit in the class, would Calipari also take Bronny?
The tea leaves suggest that the schools on the list are putting their focus on other players. If true, where does that leave Bronny if he elects to go to college?
“I’m anxious to see that myself,” one coach says. He then adds, referencing the vast attention that will follow Bronny to campus: “I do know this: Wherever he ends up, they’re going to have their hands full.”
Coaches say LeBron wants his son to be treated like an ordinary recruit and they say the James family has been nothing but fantastic to deal with – “as low maintenance as a megastar can be,’’ one says. Savannah James, Bronny’s mother, takes point on most of the recruiting, though LeBron and longtime business partner, Maverick Carter, are involved and have fielded calls. Coaches believe LeBron longs for Bronny to be coached, and coached properly, and that LeBron understands where his son falls in terms of talent.
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The disconnect lies in the nine words LeBron shared with The Athletic’s Jason Lloyd in February: “My last year will be played with my son.’’
“That just complicated everything,’’ a coach says. It created both a timetable and a goal. LeBron is 37, and his contract with the Lakers runs through 2023-24 (with a one-year player option) — or exactly when Bronny finishes his first year of college and becomes draft-eligible. No one thinks Bronny is a one-and-done player, nor does his current recruiting ranking project him as one. Only one college freshman selected in last year’s NBA Draft ranked below 23rd as a high school prospect — Baylor’s Jeremy Sochan, who played high school ball in Europe because of COVID.
Most coaches and scouts who spoke to The Athletic say Bronny might not be NBA-ready after two or even three years. He might develop into an NBA player, but the consensus is that it will take time. They say he needs reps against other high-caliber players to succeed, to fail, to adjust, to grow. That was how Jalen Brunson (Villanova), Corey Kispert (Gonzaga), Malcolm Brogdon (Virginia), Ochai Agbaji (Kansas) and many others got to the NBA, but they question whether that pathway would sit well with Bronny and his family.
Between the watchful eyes of his father and the media scrutiny he invites, Bronny will be a flashpoint the minute he dons a collegiate jersey. ESPN had a Zion tracker on its bottom line, keeping tabs on how the freshman performed in his lone season at Duke. Bronny’s freshman season could be 100 times that. “Whether he scores four points or 40, it’s going to be talked about the next morning on ‘First Take,’’’ says one coach. “Not if your team won, but how Bronny played.’’
A year ago, Penny Hardaway brought the nation’s top prospect to campus. Emoni Bates played his final year of high school ball at a prep school his father created, reneged on a commitment to Michigan State and wound up reclassifying to enroll in college a year early. He didn’t announce his commitment to the Tigers until late August, after classes had started.
By midseason, the Tigers were in disarray. Hardaway roasted his veterans for their envy and lack of leadership as the team tumbled out of the rankings amid discontent and chemistry troubles. When Bates benched himself with a back injury it was a story; when he returned and Hardaway essentially told him to stay on the bench it was a story; when he ultimately transferred to Eastern Michigan it was a story.
“And this is LeBron’s kid,’’ one coach says. “If you play him 30 minutes and then you don’t win, what are you doing? But if you play him eight minutes and you do win, are people going to think you’re an ass— for not playing LeBron’s kid?”
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College coaches often wax eloquent about their roles as paternal figures, about development, mentoring. But they are concerned primarily about winning. About keeping their jobs. And their assessment of the Bronny dilemma is cast in that light. If they thought he gave them the best chance to win, they would embrace him and all the hoopla that comes with him.
Their hesitation, if not downright reluctance, says it all.
“You have to have that conversation: Do we want this?’’ one coach says. “Do we want this attention? This pressure? Yeah, you’re going to sell a lot of tickets, but it’s a lot to manage.”
(Illustration: John Bradford / The Athletic; photos: Harry How, Joe Robbins / Getty Images)
