Inside the secret NBA lottery room ahead of the 2026 draft

IT WAS TOLD to me, repeatedly, that being inside the NBA draft lottery drawing room would be boring.

After being there, I patently disagree.

Being inside the sealed room Sunday afternoon at Chicago's Navy Pier was heart-pounding, exhilarating and excruciating. I felt great happiness for some and compassion for others. In my 16 years at ESPN, I don't think I've ever written in first person, but this is the only way I feel I can try to relate it.

Each person watching the balls being drawn represented millions of fans. They also carried with them the weight of their organizations, many of whom tanked for months this season and endured soul-damaging and sometimes embarrassing nights to get to this moment.

In all, there were 15 teams -- for 14 picks; the extra person will be explained -- who sent people into what is referred to as the "drawing room," which is in a large conference one floor above where the set for the lottery show was constructed.

The drawing takes place about an hour before the television show and everyone has their phones and computers taken to assure the results can't be transmitted. The league lets a few media members in for transparency.

Just as everyone was sitting down for the start, I ran into Utah Jazz president of basketball operations Austin Ainge and offered him luck.

There were times this season I was critical of the Jazz and the extreme lengths they'd gone to in order to maximize the number of combinations.

"I'm going to need it," Ainge said.

There are 14 balls that go into the lottery machine. Four are drawn at a time. There are 1,001 possible combinations and each team gets allotted an amount based on their record.

Their combos are displayed on eight huge placards along a wall. The team reps have them at their seats, too.

A bunch of these folks have MBAs and law degrees. One of them, Brooklyn Nets owner Joe Tsai, is a tech billionaire and a Yale-trained lawyer. They all think very quickly and calculate and re-calculate quickly as each ball is pulled.

The most intense moments were when NBA vice president Matt Doria waited between pulling the lever that released each ball. Doria has some internal clock he uses to decide when to pull the next ball, and boy does it build suspense.

In between the drawings, the room was dead silent.

What might look like a weird, nerdy game is actually a monumentally tense, high-stakes soap opera.

I just stared at the 14 faces in the room -- those whose jobs, teams and futures could be dramatically impacted by 14 ping-pong balls.

MICHAEL WINGER, PRESIDENT of the Washington Wizards, was in the first seat. It's the loser seat. The team with the worst record.

I've known Winger for 20 years, through jobs with four different organizations. He's one of the smartest executives in the league. He sold owner Ted Leonsis three years ago on a complete teardown and rebuild of the organization. Last year they had the highest odds of winning and fell to No. 5. Total disaster.

If this had happened again Sunday -- bad luck but still a 50/50 outcome -- it would've been hugely disappointing, but not as devastating.

In this year's draft, No. 5 could yield an All-Star. But dropping out of the top five two years in a row would've been vomit-inducing -- and possibly set them back years.

The lottery began after a long explanation of the rules -- OK, this part is boring -- and unlike the lottery television show, where the picks are revealed in reverse order from 14 to 1, in the real thing the No. 1 pick is established first. The top four picks are established by the draws.

The first three balls came 1-2-4.

Ted Wu, the assistant GM of the Indiana Pacers, was sitting right next to Winger. The Pacers had the second-worst record and the same number of combinations. Wu turned to Winger, smiled and tapped Winger on the hand. It was over.

The Wizards owned every combination that started 1-2-4.

No matter what ball came last, the Wizards would win. Winger had no reaction.

Katelyn Cannella West, the NBA's assistant general counsel, lingered on that side of the room. She looks at the placards and announces the winner. Veterans in the room know to watch her first.

"The farther left she goes is where all the teams with the most [combinations] are," said Thunder vice president Sam Presti, who had the 12th-highest odds with the LA Clippers' pick. "I need her to go way to the right. I basically need her to go out the door for us to win."

"Washington," Cannella West said.

No one in the room made a sound.

Winger knew everything had just changed for his organization. His mind must have been racing. He must have been thinking about his owner, his coach, his general manager, his players, his scouts, his wife and children.

But -- nothing. He just stroked his chin, deep in thought.

THE FIRST BALL for the No. 2 pick came next.

It was "14."

Cannella West was back at the board and looking all the way to the right. The long shots, over by the door.

Presti, with the LA Clippers' pick, had 15 combinations in the lottery. Eight of them had the number 14 in them.

He had watched his Thunder win Saturday night over the Los Angeles Lakers to take an unbeatable 3-0 series lead. Then he took a red eye to be in Chicago.

Rishabh Desai, a front office member with the Clippers, was two seats from me. The Clippers didn't have a spot with the other teams, but his heart was in his throat.

In February, the Clippers sent Ivica Zubac to the Pacers. Part of the return was Indiana's pick in this year's draft if it fell between picks 5-9.

If it remained in the top four, the Pacers would keep the pick and the Clippers would, instead, get a 2031 first-rounder. It was basically a coin toss, the Pacers had a 52% chance to get a top-four pick, the Clippers a 48% chance.

If the Thunder had jumped into the top four in this draft with their current team -- the reaction across the league would've been unprecedented.

The numbers then came: 2-6-9. Lower numbers. Cannella West moved to the middle.

"Utah."

Ainge had been leaning forward, coiled in his seat since he sat down.

He had had several meetings with owner Ryan Smith last summer after he got the GM job, trying to convince him that tanking, again, for another high pick would be the best path for the Jazz.

Smith had been skeptical. The 2024-25 season had been agony for the tanking Jazz. And they had gotten nothing for it. They had fallen to No. 6, the worst possible outcome.

They had gone to the lottery 11 times in franchise history and had never jumped higher than their odds.

When he heard the result, Ainge yelped and fist-pumped, the only break in decorum in the 90 minutes everyone was in the room.

He leaned back in the chair. It had all been worth it, all those brutal nights.

Then the next four numbers were read off. Cannella West was in the middle again.

"Utah."

Again. All those times the Jazz got no luck in the lottery? Well, now it was overflowing.

The Jazz had the fifth-highest odds, but the best luck of the day.

Remember that $500,000 fine leveled by the league office at the Jazz in February for tanking? No, the Jazz don't, either.

MEMPHIS GRIZZLIES GENERAL manager Zach Kleiman had been sitting passively.

When "2" was called next, his spirits sagged. The Grizzlies had no combinations with "2" in it. But the Jazz being called again meant a re-draw.

First number up? 13. Far right. The long shots were back in the game.

Jake Stone, a member of the Charlotte Hornets front office, felt his breath catch.

On the way to the draw, team owner Rick Schnall had told him several times, "13! Lucky 13! All our combinations have 13!"

The Hornets had the lowest odds, just 0.5%. And 13 was in all of them.

When the next number was "4," Stone exhaled. The Hornets were out. The Grizzlies, however, were very much alive. Kleiman tensed up.

The next numbers called were "10" and "6."

Jackpot, Memphis Grizzlies.

Sitting in the middle of the front row, Tsai looked to the ceiling. The Nets had tanked for two years to get a top pick, and his chances were sliding away. Next to him, Wu flicked his pen around his fingers. The Pacers were in a crucial moment.

It came down to this.

Wu looked over at Desai, the Clippers' rep, and they gave each other equally nervous glances.

The first number came: 7. Not good for the Pacers. Of their 140 combinations, only seven had No. 7 in it. Now the Clippers were huge favorites.

Next number: 6. The Pacers were still alive. Their seven combos had both a No. 7 and a No. 6.

But the Nets, and Tsai, were out. Tsai looked down, checked and double checked, but realized the outcome.

Then a 9. The Pacers' life flickered, they had one single combo with a 7-6-9 in it. They needed No. 1 to get the fourth pick. Any of the other 10 balls in the hopper and the Clippers would get pick No. 5.

It was 8.

Desai beamed. He tried to remain calm. "This worked out for us," he said.

And after years of play-in losses and mediocrity, the Bulls' second-half tank paid off. With the ninth-best odds and a 20% chance of a top-four pick, the local team had jumped up.

That made it worse for the Nets, who slipped another spot to No. 6.

Bulls executive director or basketball operations Chigozie Umeadi got fist bumps from those in the back row, the long shots.

Tsai and John Kehriotis, the longtime Sacramento Kings minority owner who represented the team, stayed seated. The Kings had a 45% chance of moving into the top four. They ended up at No. 7.

Winger got up from his seat and quickly went to the back of the room and got a glass of water. His hand shook as he sipped.

One of the first people to greet him was Presti, one of his mentors whom he worked for in Oklahoma City for seven years. What Winger is trying to build in Washington is what Presti has already built in Oklahoma.

Winger's first move, when he got the job in 2023, was to hire Will Dawkins away from the Thunder to be his general manager.

"Thank you for the note," Winger said to Presti.

Presti, knowing how important this moment was to his former partner, had sent a message, wishing him luck.

Then Winger allowed himself to smile and said he couldn't wait to go see the rest of the Wizards after watching the broadcast an hour later.

It was 90 minutes of franchise-changing draws. Did any of it sound boring?br/]