Supporting the Utah Jazz has never been easy, but especially so for the last 3 seasons. In the Summer of ‘22, this team’s fate was irreparably redirected thanks to dealing away an All-Star tandem in favor of a more radical policy: tanking.

Tanking – noun

/tāNGk – ēng/

Intentionally losing for the benefit of a more favorable drafting position. A method of athletic self-sabotage where teams are rewarded for poor performance.

Tanking is a touchy subject in basketball circles and—unsurprisingly—our word of the day. Across the NBA, the strategy is rarely employed as most teams would rather follow a more traditional path toward championship contention.

Tanking is basketball extremism. It’s desperation, it’s psychologically taxing, but above all else, it’s a major risk. In order to properly tank, a team must first dismantle their roster down to the studs. All-stars are gone, starters are gone, and every player leading the charge in jersey sales is gone. It’s an NBA fire sale, and everything must go.

But why do teams resort to such drastic policies? How could an organization stoop so low as to ship off its functional depth chart for something unrecognizable, and immediately inferior?

The NBA Draft—legalized gambling for league general managers—follows the equitable policy of allowing the most destitute franchises the first selection, and delivering the final pick of each round to the reigning champion. Sounds like a just solution, right?

In theory? Sure! Teams who struggle most certainly deserve a chance to reroute their destiny, and the Draft allows these teams to do so.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before that system was manipulated.

Let’s navigate the history of tanking, and dive into several case studies to stretch our understanding of its successes, failures, and hopeless mediocrities to hack through the thick jungle of competition to assess two crucial questions: where do the Jazz stand today, and does their tanking strategy hold any precedent for future success?

The History of Tanking

The 1983 Houston Rockets didn’t see their season begin according to plan. Jumping out to a mediocre 20-26 record, the Rockets made a drastic decision—hit the self-destruct button and start again next season. That is, after drafting NBA legend Hakeem Olajuwon once the number-one pick was secured.

In the pre-lottery era, being the worst team guaranteed a coin’s toss chance at the draft prize, so tanking could be directly tied to the ideal draft position. The now-standard NBA Draft lottery began following the ‘84-’85 year.

How did this turn out for the Rockets? Very well, actually, with Hakeem leading the Rockets to back-to-back NBA championships in 1995 and 1996. They tanked the year, grabbed their guy, and now own the hardware to prove it.

The San Antonio Spurs are a prime example of lucking out in finding their guys. David Robinson was selected in 1987 when SA won the lottery, and ten years later in ‘97, Gregg Popovich’s bunch stumbled into the top spot again to grab Tim Duncan, arguably the greatest power forward of all time.

Of course, they got lucky to pick two legends within a decade, but they found them, picked them, and racked up Finals wins like a greedy kid shoveling candy at a parade.

The most notorious instance of tanking, of course, was Sam Hinkie’s cutthroat strategy dubbed “the process”. This process was simple, and the 76ers suffered great humiliation in their quest for basketball immortality. Lose, lose, lose. Get the best available player in the draft, regardless of fit, and repeat until you stand at the pinnacle of basketball glory.

It didn’t work quite as smoothly as Hinkie may have hoped. This strategy landed Philly a future MVP in Joel Embiid, and an outstanding young point guard in Tyrese Maxey, but frankly, that’s about it. Michael Carter-Williams, Nerlens Noel, Jahlil Okafor, Dario Saric, Ben Simmons, Markelle Fultz, and Zhaire Smith.

Only two of their picks have worked out long-term, and that process lasted over a decade of pain, pitiful performance, and heartbreak. Terrible draft decisions, they truly had more top-5 picks than they knew what to do with.

Hinkie paid for that failure with his reputation, legitimacy, and career.

Even the recent efforts of the Minnesota Timberwolves have left plenty to be desired. Yes, even the now-promising Timberwolves’ tank shouldn’t really be considered a “success”. Two of their number-one selections, Andrew Wiggins and Karl-Anthony Towns, now suit up for different organizations. Left with one of the most talented young stars in basketball, Anthony Edwards, the rest of the T-Wolves roster looks like a snapshot of former Utah Jazz teams. We all know how that turned out in Utah.

Photo by Joe Murphy/NBAE via Getty Images

Is There a Point?

So, the operative question is: does tanking work in the NBA? It’s hard to say, even after looking through the history of self-sabotage across the sport.

The unavoidable truth is that the draft is a crapshoot. Always has been, and always will be. Sure, Houston secured one of the greatest players in the history of the game, but only two picks later was Michael Jordan, the player whose team dominated basketball in Hakeem’s prime.

Of course, you could point out that the Rockets secured their trophies in ‘94 and ‘95 right between Jordan’s two three-peats. Awkwardly, those championships didn’t arrive until Air Jordan hung up his sneakers for baseball cleats, and he abruptly shut off the tap upon his return to hoops.

Houston tanked, got their guy, and still missed out on the greatest player to ever lace ‘em up.

San Antonio was supremely fortunate to grab two number-one picks—a mountaintop the Utah Jazz organization has never summited—and yet more fortunate that both players would become no-doubt Hall of Fame inductees.

Philadelphia has never made it past the second round of the playoffs, thanks in part to the softest rim in basketball history, but mostly due to poor roster construction, overly far-sighted decisions, and relying on fan loyalty. Even with their head barely above water as their arms wobble helplessly in a hopeless effort to stay afloat, they insist that they’re fine and this is all part of the plan.

Sound familiar?

Photo by Melissa Majchrzak/NBAE via Getty Images

I don’t mean to indicate that Utah’s tank is hopeless, and I can’t say with certainty that they would have better luck sticking with Mitchell and Gobert. Here’s my point: sure-thing tanking is a myth, and there’s no guarantee this chapter of Utah’s history doesn’t end with the team irreversibly mangled.

I credit the Utah front office with this: they’re trying something new. A team that hasn’t sniffed the NBA Finals since the Stockton-Malone era clearly needed a change of pace if the goal is to eventually hoist the Larry O’Brien trophy.

It may never work, but at the same time, the chance of landing an all-time great is too great to pass up at this point. You may as well hop on board—the train is leaving.