The NBA Draft has always been a peculiar science—part analysis, part intuition, part projection, and a whole lot of comparison. Every June, teams try to decode the genetic makeup of a prospect’s game, hoping to forecast what they could become by linking them to a pantheon of players who have carved their names into the hardwood’s history. For the Los Angeles Lakers, one of the most storied franchises in basketball, understanding this “Draft DNA” becomes not just about acquiring talent, but aligning players with a legacy. In recent breakdowns of player comps associated with current and former Lakers, a fascinating trio has emerged: LeBron James compared to Magic Johnson, Deandre Ayton likened to Shawn Kemp, and Rui Hachimura connected to Antawn Jamison. It’s a bold trio of links, but each has substance, backed by traits on film, tendencies in playstyle, and potential roles within the Lakers’ evolving blueprint.
LeBron James being compared to Magic Johnson might feel like an old conversation to seasoned basketball fans, but in the context of decoding “Draft DNA,” it’s still worth revisiting because of how relevant and precise that parallel remains. Both players entered the league with sky-high expectations, immediately redefining positional norms. Magic was a 6’9” point guard in an era where the average floor general stood 6’2”. LeBron, standing at 6’9” and 250 pounds, could physically dominate any position on the floor while maintaining the cerebral vision of a top-tier passer. The reason this comparison continues to hold water today is because both players are—and were—defined by their ability to blend brute force with elegant playmaking. Their basketball IQ is as crucial to their success as their athleticism.
For LeBron, particularly in his Lakers era, the Magic comparison has grown stronger. As his athletic explosiveness has naturally waned with age, the King has leaned into being more of a pure point-forward. He’s conducting from the top of the key, navigating offensive sets like a maestro, while keeping his scoring instincts in his back pocket. This transformation mirrors Magic’s post-Kareem years, where he often carried the full orchestration of the Lakers offense. Both men are also supreme showmen—able to whip a no-look pass or find a backdoor cutter from angles most wouldn’t even think to scan. The intangibles match as well: leadership, charisma, the ability to galvanize a locker room or command the respect of superstars and role players alike. LeBron’s move to L.A. wasn’t just a career decision—it felt like a handoff from Magic’s ghost to the modern embodiment of his skill set.
Then there’s Deandre Ayton, the towering center whose recent linkage to the Lakers has reignited speculation about how he might fit into a historically post-centric team. Ayton, who was drafted first overall in 2018, has seen his career fluctuate between moments of dominance and stretches of passivity. Yet if one decodes his basketball DNA, there’s a name that continues to surface: Shawn Kemp. The Reign Man. The comparison is not purely based on physicality—though both are physical freaks, capable of launching dunks from a standstill with a spring-loaded burst. Rather, it’s the flair in their interior dominance. Kemp was an emotional engine. He played with ferocity, each dunk a middle-finger to subtlety. When Ayton is at his best, you see echoes of that: a rim-runner who can catch lobs in traffic, switch defensively on pick-and-rolls, and pull down rebounds in traffic with an authoritative snatch.
The issue with Ayton has been consistency. In Phoenix, he struggled with maintaining engagement, often shrinking in playoff moments when physicality ramped up. Kemp, despite his own controversies and career turns, never lacked presence on the court. What the Lakers could be banking on is unlocking that version of Ayton—the emotionally charged, ferociously driven, face-at-the-rim dynamo who can alter a team’s identity from the paint outward. In a league that’s swinging back toward valuing centers who can protect the rim and finish inside with purpose, Ayton still has untapped value. What makes this comparison particularly compelling is the context of revival. Kemp had his breakout under George Karl, in a system that allowed him to play off a high-IQ guard and wreak havoc in transition. Ayton, paired with a visionary like LeBron or even a promising facilitator like Austin Reaves, might find a similar runway to elevate his best instincts.
Rui Hachimura, meanwhile, finds his comparison in the steady, underrated, and versatile Antawn Jamison. It’s not the flashiest comp, but it might be the most accurate of the three. Jamison was the sort of player who could drop 20 points in a game and you wouldn’t even remember how. He did it through smart cuts, impeccable midrange shooting, and a willingness to battle in the post despite being a tweener in terms of position. Hachimura has demonstrated much of the same. Since arriving in L.A., his game has matured—he’s found a way to maximize touches, deliver efficient offense, and defend competently across multiple positions. Like Jamison, Hachimura is a “glue” guy—not in the traditional hustle-and-grit sense, but in how seamlessly he fills the gaps between stars.
When Rui is aggressive, looking to punish mismatches or shoot with confidence, he looks like the modern NBA’s ideal third option. Jamison thrived in similar roles throughout his career. On teams with Gilbert Arenas or LeBron himself, he rarely disrupted offensive flow. He just found a way to get his buckets. That’s what the Lakers need from Hachimura—an opportunist, a floor spacer, a quietly consistent scoring threat who can play both forward spots. His Draft DNA linking him to Jamison tells us that Rui doesn’t have to become a star to be indispensable. He just has to continue mastering the art of not getting in the way while delivering on high-efficiency looks.
