When Process Beats Talent (and lose)

In the summer of 1984, something remarkable happened in the NBA.

The Houston Rockets had the first pick in the draft, and their choice was obvious. Hakeem Olajuwon. A Nigerian-born center from the University of Houston, Olajuwon was dominant, elegant, and, most importantly, safe. He would go on to win an MVP and two championships. No regrets there.

Portland had the second pick. And that’s where the story gets interesting.

A year earlier, the Trail Blazers had drafted Clyde Drexler, a high-flying guard who would eventually become a Hall of Famer. Ironically, he’d win his one and only championship in Houston — not Portland. Drexler played the same position as another young star entering the draft: a wiry, explosive shooting guard from North Carolina named Michael Jordan.

Faced with this dilemma, Portland’s coach Jack Ramsay did something smart. He picked up the phone and called Bobby Knight. Knight had just coached Jordan on the U.S. Olympic team and knew his potential better than almost anyone. Ramsay explained the situation: “We need a center. We already have Clyde.”

Knight didn’t hesitate.

“Take Jordan,” he said.

“But we need a big man,” Ramsay replied.

Knight, never one to sugarcoat, shot back: “Then play Jordan at center.”

It sounds absurd now. But that’s the point.

Michael Jordan wasn’t the logical choice. He wasn’t the fit. He didn’t check the boxes. He was, however, the best player in the draft — maybe in history. But Portland passed. They chose Sam Bowie, a 7-foot center with a history of injuries. Bowie played a few decent seasons, then faded. He became a cautionary tale.

And here’s the twist: two years later, Boston drafted Len Bias as the number 2 pick. Bias tragically died of a drug overdose before playing a single NBA game. And yet, Sam Bowie is still considered the bigger mistake.

Why?

Because the mistake wasn’t about bad luck. It was about bad thinking.

We love processes. We build systems and define roles and write job descriptions. We try to make smart, consistent decisions. And most of the time, that works.

But sometimes, it doesn’t.

Sometimes the process, the checklist, the logic — it blinds us to what’s right in front of us. Because what’s right doesn’t always fit. It doesn’t always come in the expected form. And it almost never arrives at the perfect moment.

So what do we learn from Portland?

That a rigid process can be a dangerous thing. That sometimes, the best choice doesn’t meet the criteria — it redefines it. That flexibility isn’t just a soft skill; it’s a strategic edge.

A few questions worth asking:

• Is this process helping me see clearly — or is it getting in the way?
• What am I overlooking just because it doesn’t “fit”?
• What will look like an obvious mistake five years from now?

This isn’t just about basketball.

Blockbuster had a chance to buy Netflix for $50 million. It stuck to its brick-and-mortar strategy. Today, Netflix is worth over $200 billion. Blockbuster is a trivia question.

Yahoo could’ve bought Google. Kodak invented the digital camera, then shelved it to protect film sales. These weren’t failures of technology or timing. They were failures of imagination — of adapting to a new reality.

So maybe the real question is this:

Are you running the process?
Or is the process running you?