The VICE Sports Guide to the 177-277th Best Players in the NBA

If you have a moment, read the American Film Institute's list of the Greatest American movies ever made. Feel your pupils dilate and your brain snap off. Ride on the gentle tide of a familiar format: the ordered list, driving you down the scenic, tidy history of American film.

Lists are the ultimate in content. Gentle, familiar. If all content could exist in list form, it would. Content wants to be easily digestible. Humanity wishes to devour such content. If you write one, people will immediately bang that stuff right into their veins.

Unfortunately, lists are prohibitively expensive to write and publish on the internet, and the authors of this piece didn't have the resources to order and format a ranking of every player in the NBA. "Only enough for 100!" we were told. "Please, we are not made of money!"

Most people know who the 100 best NBA players are: your Durants, your Gasols, your Porzingi. So we decided to really dig in and examine the NBA's clam-bellied middle. Here, as determined by our proprietary and extremely objective formula, are the 177th through 277th best players in the NBA.

177. Justise Winslow— Emoji game like this. Transition defense like that.

178. Javale McGee — Javale is a fun player with a good spirit. Bless him and his whole family.

179. Andre Miller — An inspiration to middle management everywhere. Andre Miller packs no heat; he has no natural athleticism to speak of. He's like a slower, creakier David Eckstein, only if David Eckstein played a sport where no one gets away with being slow and creaky. Here is his secret: he was never athletic. He's not growing old; this is who he has always been. He doesn't age because he came into the league as a 50-year-old. He cannot "lose a step" that he never had. You will die, and I will die, and the great cities of our age will fall into ruin, and Andre Miller, on the last hardcourt inside the last structurally sound gymnasium, will be banking in an 8-footer on the only hoop still standing.

180. Evan Fournier — I don't trust any French player with a defined skillset. I need a little playmaking, a little defense, a little scoring, some solid boarding, and I only want to see it all on the same night like, three times a year. Boris Diaw, Nic Batum—you catch my drift. Fournier's work is too consistent. It unnerves me.

181. Jamal Crawford — He makes me feel things I can't wrangle into sentences, and for that he should be ranked 150 spots higher. But are we here to talk about feelings, or are we here to decide who is good at the sports games we watch after work?

182. Quincy Acy — When he was playing in the triangle on the Knicks last year, Acy took a ton of elbow jumpers. Not a single one went in. Not even one.

183. Norris Cole — This is it. The Norris Cole season. Anyway, he'll probably make more threes than he did last year, because it honestly wasn't very many.

184. Michael Carter-Williams — There's entirely too much riding on MCW being good. He is the last of the Well-Regarded NBA Point Guards Who Can't Shoot. If he fails, that entire category of players is wiped off the map forever, drifting into the ocean to be devoured by an abandoned oil tanker that gained sentience.

185. Ersan Ilyasova — "You could have been Mehmet Okur, son. You could have been Mehmet Okur."

186. D'Angelo Russell — Docked 100 spots on account of his soon-to-be-broken spirit.

187. Frank Kaminsky — Well, at least he's not Kelly Olynyk. JK, that's exactly who he is.

188. Wilson Chandler — I saw Wilson Chandler in a Pro-Am All-Star game, and he mostly took threes and played defense. Not even playing in a half-real game—Jamal Crawford, at one point, took the announcer's microphone and declared the game was a tie so someone could make a go at a buzzer beater—can divert him from his holy mission.

189. Mason Plumlee — Scouts are raving about up-and-coming big man, Mason Plumlee: "Better than his brothers, I guess." "He shot 50 percent from the line last year, if you round up a little." "Reminds me of that ginger feller on Friday Night Lights who killed a man. Lord that whole second season was a mess."

190. Meyers Leonard — Meyers is half faun; he lives a life fighting his inner deer instincts 24/7. I, Corbin Smith, have personally seen him wear sweatpants in public, which docked him ten slots.

191. Jeremy Lin — It's crucial to the enduring mythology of Linsanity that Jeremy Lin is never really good again, but it's a bummer that he will probably never be really good again.

192. Tony Wroten — In the same Pro-Am where I saw Wilson Chandler put on an efficiency clinic, Tony Wroten flew up and down the court and did whatever he wanted. The spirit of a superstar, the talent of The Guy One Spot Behind Jeremy Lin. Such is life.

193. Cory Joseph — The bad news is that Cory Joseph signing a four-year, $30-million deal is definitely a real-world application of the Peter Principle. The good news is that the Peter Principle is just a dumb concept that will have no place in the post-capitalist anarchy of the coming age, and with $30 million in the bank, Cory Joseph will be able to afford the dopest bomb shelter that money can (still) buy.

194. Joe Johnson — Would probably be the funniest Hall of Famer, if that happens.

195. T.J. Warren — T.J. Warren subscribes to the Jamal Crawford method of getting buckets: "No two buckets shall be got in the same way, for every bucket is a gleaming monument unto itself."

196. Jason Terry — "The Jet Flies into the Sunset" is a headline from the news story about Jason Terry's retirement, which should happen sometime in the next eight years or so.

197. Raul Netooooo — I really need Raul Neto to be good, guys. The Jazz have another point guard, and he appears much later on this list, but things are gonna get real dark if his back-up doesn't deserve to crack the top 200.

198. Deron Williams — Deron barely exists. He is a wisp of smoke with a decent handle and a panther tattoo. Soon all that will be left is his beard.

199. Kostas Papanikolaou — It is a point of great professional pride that I can pronounce this dude's name correctly. (On principle, I will not even attempt to correctly pronounce Giannis Antetokounmpo's name. That would be presumptuous.)

200. Keith Bogans — Keith Bogans has worked as hard as anyone possibly could to be Keith Bogans.

201. Jeremy Lamb — It is fine to climb down off the Jeremy Lamb hype wagon, now. In fact, I think it would only improve your social prospects. I'm getting some weird looks from atop this thing, no one's cleaned the interior in months, and the smell is getting harder to ignore. It won't be too hard to let go. The ride, even during its most thrilling spells, was never very practical. But good mercy if it wasn't always smooth.

202. Zaza Pachulia — "Zaza Pachulia is a bad man—with a big heart." The opening sentence of my profile of Zaza Pachulia, coming Spring 2016 at VICE Sports.

203. Devin Harris — I am going to be young forever, but I imagine for someone like Devin Harris, whose entire game was predicated on blowing by people with unmatched footspeed, that growing older gradually chips away at a once-healthy self-regard.

204. Jason Thompson — Jason Thompson, currently in his 22nd NBA season, and his first with the Warriors.

205. Shabazz Muhammad — Every time I play an RPG with a customizable character, I name him Shabazz and try to make him look as much like Shabazz Muhammad as the game's graphics will allow. How do you honor Shabazz?

206. Alexey Shved — N/A because he is no longer in the NBA, but Shved still belongs here. He is the basketball analogue to bath salts and I love him. It makes me sick that he left. Sometimes I think I should get a Ballstreams account and watch him play in Russia and see if he seems any happier.

207. Brunco Caboclo — Limbs on limbs on limbs. Just thousands of limbs. How can you hope to stop a player with this many limbs? And so long, too! Like a basketball octopus. Surely he will change the world.

208. Michael Jordan — Obviously he isn't playing right now, but he looms over the sport like Saruman, his logo stamped across the feet of his many Orcs, his weeping visage haunting our internet experiences. If he decides his dignity is nothing he values, and decides to get back in the fight, he will still be the 208th best player in the NBA.

209. Kendall Marshall — Pretty good twitter feed, but he just signed a long-term contract with Philadelphia and thereby became a Sixers fan, so expect a lot of angsty defenses of Sam Hinkie and #TrustingTheProcess from here on out.

210. (Spot left intentionally blank to honor every player, professional or otherwise, basketball or otherwise, who died in the last year.)

211. Jeremy Evans — Extremely nice guy. Extremely bad at interior defense.

212. Drew Gooden — All things, considered, this is a pretty good spot. He wears being washed like a champion and a hero. He played in two NCAA Tournaments while Bill Clinton was President.

213. Seth Curry — "Just a great kid." "Comes from a great family, you know. Yeah, great pedigree. You can't teach genetics." "You're right there. And so polite, great with the kids." "He was raised right." "That's what makes him special."

214. Aaron Brooks — Too short.

215. Joe Ingles — Joe Ingles's pregame meal is scrap metal and battery acid, and every morning he does fifty push-ups on a board of up-turned nails. But don't be afraid. He seems like a funny guy!

216. Mike Dunleavy, Jr. — Enough of this guy. Dirty like a motherfucker, and he attended Duke. Mike, if you're reading this: fight me. Corbin Smith at gmail dot com. Set a date. You're busier than me. I am punching sides of meat to train. I imagine the bones snapping beneath my meat hammers are your bones. It makes me happy for a fleeting second. I've got some problems.

217. Kenneth Faried — So overrated. All the basketball talkers are like, "he's so good," but I'm like, "No. He's actually bad."

218. (a second space left blank, this time in memoriam of all the dead players from this year)

219. Karl Anthony-Towns — Obviously awesome, but needs to prove himself. No free hand-outs in the Association. We are hazing him, here.

220. Perry Jones III — ♫He's in love with the Perry Jones oooooh♫ "Hi, I'm Basketball Weird Al, the Weird Al who sings about basketball. Because I have 'Basketball' at the beginning of my name, I am not violating any copyrights. Please contribute to my legal fund."

221. Jahlil Okafor — Doesn't really need to prove himself. Just isn't very good.

222. Dion — Doesn't even have a last name anymore. He's like a Brazilian soccer star. Sincerely bad, which is admirable. There is no one like him, which is fine.

223. Nick Collison — He's a good screener, sure, but here is a noninclusive list of players Nick Collison has had the enviable privilege of screening for: Ray Allen, Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook, James Harden, Rashard Lewis. It's pretty clear his screening stats have been artificially bloated by the quality of his teammates, but you never hear about that, do you?

224. Anthony Davis — Admittedly, I don't watch the Pelicans very often, but I just don't see it.

225. Lou Amundson — Count the TEAMZ, Kobe.

226. Zach LaVine — Engenders affection by dunking really good. Reminds me of myself in that way. I am extremely good at dunking. This is Corbin again.

227. Bryce Cotton — Very small, and until recently, very employed by the Utah Jazz. I am a Bryce-stan, admittedly, and blah blah blah sample size, but the Utah Jazz point guard catastrophe is well-documented, and I'm not sure they're in a position to be waiving the team's only point guard to post a league average PER last season.

228. Kevin Garnett — KG's not very good anymore. But he is still very intense, and I admire that. It's as if, instead of dying young, Mozart has gotten old and his music became worse, but also sort of terrifying

229-236. The Boston Celtics — Somehow, every active member of the Boston Celtics ended up in this 13-Person slot. We couldn't even differentiate their values relative to each other, so we decided to mush the whole sloppy, co-dependant mess together, right here.

237. Ben McLemore — He has a jump shot like Dvorak's ninth symphony and he has hops to the stratosphere, but somehow he still plays with the insecurity of a freshly dumped high school sophomore. That moves me in unspeakable ways, but he's got an awful PER, so here we are and here he is.

238. Kevin Martin — His shooting motion is creepy and he doesn't play defense and he isn't even related to beloved comedienne Andrea Martin.

239. Dirk Nowitzki — Still a wonderful player, but ranked lower because he will die of a broken heart this season while running the floor alongside Javale McGee and Dour End Stage D-Will. Best case scenario is he goes out in a "Prince Andrey in War and Peace" way—blissfully fading from the ecstatic comprehension of his own moral superiority into warm oblivion. Whatever the case, he won't be able to crack the top 200 in the NBA, on account of his having passed from this realm.

240. Steve Novak — Sure.

241. Noah Vonleh — You know that guy you saw towering over everyone at the mall one time and did not recognize but assumed nonetheless was in the NBA? That was Noah Vonleh! He says "hi.""

242. John Cena — World record for Make-A-Wish fulfillments. How could anyone leave this guy off their list?

243. Acie Law IV — Still the greatest college player of all-time, and given the exchange rate, that makes him roughly the 243rd best player in the NBA.

244. Any Bear — A replacement level bear could beat anyone below him or her in this list as basketball, simply by scaring his opponent into weeping madness. Anyone above him would kick the bear's ass at basketball, because they are a bear, and they cannot even hold basketballs.

245. Trey Burke — I mean this ranking as a compliment.

246. Marcus Morris — Powerless without Markieff. The bonds of family are real and powerful and also a little disturbing and unnerving.

247. Jakarr Sampson — I have a friend who said this dude dunked on him in middle school, and I thought, "whoa! He was dunking on people in middle school! That's really something!"

248. Kyle O'Quinn — Lotta beard on this dude.

249. Toasted Marshmallow S'mores Milkshake — Strengths: realest milkshake you will ever eat, marshmallows they've roasted over an open flame, located in a cool part of Dallas. Weaknesses: runs you north of five bucks, maybe you don't live in Dallas, negligible perimeter game.

250. Birdman — He's tall, he jumps, and he has a tattoo of the Sydney Opera House on his dick.

251. Leandro Barbosa — He is a Golden State Warrior, true, but he has not, to my knowledge, aired his jaundiced dissatisfaction at not being sufficiently lauded for his accomplishments. His greatest achievement is being on the Warriors and not having an aggrieved George Costanza posture toward the rest of the league.

252. Mario Motherfucking Chalmers — Mario Chalmers puts on sunglasses and drives his extremely fast sports cars around Miami at night. He blasts a custom mix: Cromeo, Kraftwerk Live Recordings, the sounds of Alaska, his home. He closes his eyes and feels the speed. He is invincible. Nothing can end his life. He is a God.

253. Nik Stauskas — "Oh fam my bae is on fleek like you ain't believe." "Shut up, Sauce."

254. Will Cummings — If he doesn't shape up, he's going to be Will Goings! I will sue any local columnist who uses this line with VICE's high powered attorneys.

255. Daniel Murphy — Should switch to basketball IMO. /weeping bear emoji/

256. Vincenzio "Vince" Carter — Why you no-a use-a your real name, Vincenzio? Why are-a you a-shamed of your Italian roots-a? Your grandmama, she's-a crying!

257. Blake Griffin — Don't let the haters get you down, Griff. Stay focused.

258. Brandan Wright — Brendan Wright is the NBA player who most resembles a dude Goku would have wailed on in the first half of "Dragonball."

259. Matthew Dellavedova — None of this is fault really, and huge props for making it this far, but still: Matthew Dellavedova is an aesthetic nightmare and rooting for him as an idea is rooting for basketball that looks like rugby and the sort of coded, anti-meritocratic Tebowism that sports should exist to refute. Or you're a Cavs fan, and that's fine I guess.

260. Luis Scola — Scola can't jump or play defense.

261. Nick Young — Perfectly okay shooting guard.

262. Bismack Biyombo — Did you know that Bismack started to look okay last year? I read that somewhere.

263. Patrick Beverley — Just the cutest. Really next-level, in terms of his cuteness. We should call him P-Bevs, out of respect for his cuteness.

264. Austin Rivers — Last year I wrote an article about how Rivers was bad, and then he played well in two straight playoff games and people on the internet gave me shit for it. Really cutting stuff, hurt my feelings. I maintain that he is bad.

265. Thaddeus Young — Boring boring boring.

266. Kyle Anderson — Along with his best friend and entro, Coach Becky Hammond, Anderson single handedly delivered the Spurs their first NBA Summer League title.

267. Justin Anderson — Justin Anderson is gonna play this one straight. No frills, no fancy playground stuff. Just good, clean basketball, thoroughly practiced and well-executed, and you just wait and see if he doesn't bring the title back to Dallas.

268. David West — David West taking a discount that steep just to play in San Antiono upsets and unnerves me, and he loses many points for this. Championships are arbitrary, a framework used to draw in the unwashed masses. NBA Players should be cynical enough to understand that the only reality of professional sports is making a living, which is also arbitrary, but less so than titles. They should demand to be paid in gold bullion. Which, once again, also arbitrary, but slightly less arbitrary than paper money.

269: Hedo Turkoglu — There's a shot that I call a "hedo" where you pull up from three and launch the ball expressionlessly and without jumping straight into the back-iron, where it makes a dull thud like the last heartbeat of an overfed cow before careening safely into the hands of a now-fastbreaking opposing guard. The hedo typically nets you minus two points and the enduring ire of your friends and family.

270: Luke Babbitt — I (it's Corbin) watched Luke Babbitt practice three pointers before games when he played in Portland. He was always the first on on the court, takin' threes. I always wondered if it he had an unstoppable work ethic, or if he just forgot to practice earlier in the day and was making it up before the game. He also cut his floppsy hair off since then, and it makes me uncomfortable.

271: Pat Connaughton — It's more than a little frustrating that Pat doesn't have a man-bun, but I am confident that it's only a matter of time until he remedies this.

272: Bo McCalebb — Bo is a Macedonian legend and EuroLeague hero who decided to grace the United States with his presence for a single season. He would never have gotten the minutes he deserves, because every NBA coach is scared that a Euro will embarrass everyone and call the NBA's dominance into question. The Pelicans cut him last week.

273: Rondae Hollis-Jefferson — ESPN actually nailed this one.

274. Jarrett Jack — If Jarrett Jack is your starting point guard, someone goofed, somewhere down that dusty old line.

275. Sufjan Stevens — I liked his earlier stuff more. Obviously not ever finishing that An Album For Every State thing.

276. Kobe Bryant — I got hit in the head recently and can only remember the last two years of NBA play. Who is this dude, and why does he keep taking these shots? Shouldn't he ease back a little bit? Also, why is he mean to people in front of reporters? I can't imagine being on a team with him is fun, or fulfilling. I am sure the Lakers would like him to go away.

277. Spencer Hawes —Make America Great Again, Spencer. Until you do, you'll always be worse than Terminal Kobe somehow.