A few weeks ago, I defended the eligibility of former G League developmental players entering college basketball. That defense was deliberate, nuanced, and rooted in reality—that these players hadn’t declared for the draft. Those players were never drafted. They had not entered the NBA draft process. They made a calculated bet on a now-defunct developmental pathway that existed before NIL, before collectives, and before today’s massive financial realities of college basketball—realities that have only grown since they made their choice with the information available at the time. When that pathway collapsed, allowing them access into the NCAA was not exploitation—it was course correction, one I saw as no different than allowing Euro pros from stronger leagues like Spain’s ACB.
What happened this week is fundamentally different.
James Nnaji—the No. 31 overall pick in the 2023 NBA Draft, a player who has already participated in multiple NBA Summer Leagues, signed with an NBA franchise, and fully entered the professional ecosystem—has enrolled at Baylor midseason and is immediately eligible to play college basketball for four years.
This is not a gray area. This is not evolution. This is not fairness.
This is where the line actually exists—and why crossing it matters.
The G League Defense Was Never About “Pros Playing College Basketball”
Let’s start by clearing something up, because this distinction is being intentionally blurred.
The G League players I defended were not drafted. They did not declare for the NBA draft. They were part of a short-lived, pre-NIL developmental experiment—a league-created alternative for elite teenagers at a time when college basketball offered them virtually nothing financially.
That pathway no longer exists.
The NCAA landscape they left behind is not the one they returned to. Today’s freshmen can earn seven figures. Transfers are paid immediately. NIL collectives have professionalized the sport in all but name. Allowing fringe, undrafted, underperforming former developmental players into college basketball wasn’t opening a loophole—it was acknowledging reality.
They never crossed the most important threshold in basketball:
They were never drafted.
James Nnaji did.
The NBA Draft Is the Line of No Return
The NBA Draft is not symbolic. It is not ceremonial. It is a legal and professional threshold.
Being drafted means:
An NBA franchise has invested a pick in you
You have been evaluated, ranked, and selected against the entire global pool
Your rights are controlled under the NBA’s CBA
You have formally entered the professional labor market
At that point, you are no longer testing pathways—you have chosen one.
James Nnaji wasn’t a fringe G League experimenter trying to find footing. He was a top-31 pick. He was not misled. He was not locked out by NIL timing. He did not suffer from a folded league or a vanished opportunity.
He made a choice. Then he made several more.
Summer League. Professional contracts. Professional development.
Those are not reversible decisions.
This Is Not About Age or Money — It’s About Competitive Integrity
Some will try to argue this the same way G League eligibility was argued:
“International players get paid.” “College basketball is already professionalized.” “NIL makes this irrelevant.”
None of that applies here.
International professionals who enter college basketball were never drafted by the NBA. Transfers who make millions through NIL were never drafted by the NBA. Sixth-year seniors, medical redshirts, and even 33-year-old punters were never drafted by the NBA.
The draft is the difference.
Allowing drafted players to return introduces an entirely new and dangerous precedent:
NBA teams could stash draft picks in college
Players could toggle between NCAA and NBA ecosystems
College basketball becomes an extension of NBA player development
The draft loses finality and meaning
At that point, the NCAA isn’t adapting—it’s dissolving its boundaries entirely.
The G League Players Were Reclaiming Lost Ground
Draft Picks Would Be Reclaiming Optionality
This is the core distinction.
The G League developmental players were trying to regain an opportunity that vanished. They were not good enough for the NBA. Many weren’t even good enough for the G League. Their professional value collapsed as the system changed around them.
James Nnaji is not reclaiming lost ground.
He is reclaiming optionality.
And optionality is exactly what cannot exist once a player is drafted.
You do not get to:
Enter the draft
Be selected
Develop professionally
Then retroactively decide the decision “doesn’t count”
At some point, choices have consequences. If they don’t, the system stops functioning.
Why This Actually Harms College Basketball
Ironically, this move undermines the very players eligibility reform was meant to help.
If drafted players are allowed back:
College roster spots become temporary holding zones
Freshmen and transfers compete against NBA-owned assets
Coaches recruit with the expectation of short-term NBA returns
NIL money becomes leverage for drafted professionals, not students
This doesn’t help player freedom—it distorts it.
The G League cases expanded access downward. This expands leverage upward—to NBA franchises.
That is not progress.
Where the Rule Should Be Simple and Absolute
The solution is not complicated.
If you enter the NBA Draft and are selected, your NCAA eligibility should permanently end.
No waivers. No exceptions. No retroactive rationalizations.
That line protects:
College competitive balance
The meaning of the NBA draft
Player choice clarity
The legitimacy of both systems
Everything before the draft can be flexible. Everything after it cannot.
This Isn’t Hypocrisy — It’s Consistency
Defending undrafted G League players while opposing drafted players is not a contradiction.
It’s consistency.
One group never crossed the professional Rubicon. The other did.
College basketball can evolve without becoming a holding pen for NBA assets. Players can gain freedom without erasing accountability. And reform can exist without pretending every situation is the same.
This one isn’t.
James Nnaji shouldn’t be allowed to play one half-year of college basketball—much less four. Not because he doesn’t “deserve” it. Not because of age or money or talent.
But because once you’re drafted, the decision is made.
And if that line disappears, the sport loses something real—something it won’t get back.
Allowing drafted players to return isn’t just risky—it’s a rule that invites chaos. What’s to stop someone from declaring for the NBA Draft, testing the waters, and then deciding, “Well, I didn’t get drafted—back to college I go”? Look at a player like R J Luis, last year’s Big East Player of the Year with eligibility who went undrafted. Imagine that scenario: a proven, elite talent flipping between professional and college pathways. Suddenly, rosters are unpredictable, scholarships are temporary, and coaches can’t plan beyond a semester. College basketball thrives on stability and clarity. Once that line disappears, the system stops functioning as it’s supposed to.
