National Basketball Association

Can Elfrid Payton win Rookie of the Year?

Published Apr. 9, 2015 2:58 p.m. ET

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This is the second installment in our series of posts looking at the Rookie of the Year award race. Read the first one on Nerlens Noel here.

Elfrid Payton is one of the most idiosyncratic Rookie of the Year candidates to appear in quite some time. He's a complicated, often brilliant pass-first point guard who intuitively defends his position. On more nights than not, Payton looks like an eight-year veteran, understanding angles and reacting to defensive rotations with systematic familiarity.

Unfortunately, he has one major flaw, and in today's NBA it's powerful enough to rot even the most promising careers to their core:

Payton can't shoot. From anywhere. His 42.8/23.7/55.0 shooting splits are a wounded animal. The only guards in NBA history to earn at least 1,000 minutes shooting the ball that poorly are Anthony Carter, Calbert Cheaney, and the great Speedy Claxton. Payton's played over 2,300 minutes this season, putting his numbers in uncharted territory. As someone who holds the ball so often, Payton would be lost at sea if not for all the other, totally wonderful things he brings to the table.

Aside from a spontaneous hairdo that — in the same way James Harden has a beard and Anthony Davis refuses to shave the inch of skin between his eyebrows — could someday become one of the most identifiable characteristics in the league, triple doubles are the best way to construct any argument around why Payton should win Rookie of the Year.

Only 45 have been notched by players 21 and younger since the 1985-86 season. (Sixteen belong to LeBron James and Lamar Odom.) Payton's two triple doubles are the shiniest badge on a promising resume. They directly reflect all-around impact, and he's shown an unquantifiable ability to get the ball when he doesn't have it, freelancing on defense, cutting into open space and crashing the offensive glass.

On a nightly basis, he does it all. Here's how he stacks up against the rest of his rookie class: first in assists, second in minutes, second in steals, third in field goals, fourth in free-throw attempts, fourth in points and fourth in rebounds. That's all-everything effectiveness. (He's sixth in PER among rookies who've played at least 1,000 minutes.)

There's a cerebral calm to Payton's game. Somehow, on nights when he's air-balling free-throws and watching his man sag off at a humiliating distance, Payton doesn't let his glaring weakness seep in and negatively affect other parts of his game. It's impressive compartmentalization.

What's so cool about Payton, and stands as my personal favorite part of his game, is the ease in which he navigates the court. If he wants to go somewhere, he does. Effortlessly. The jump shot is broken, but Payton still knifes his way to the basket, averaging more drives per game than Kyrie Irving, Goran Dragic and Eric Bledsoe.

Payton never commits to one plan when he's gliding into the paint. His mind stays clear, allowing him to find passing lanes before they slide shut. He's averaging more assist opportunities per game than Damian Lillard, Rajon Rondo (in a Mavericks uniform) and Kyle Lowry.

When Payton isn't on the floor, Orlando's offense is smoldering wreckage, scoring just 96.5 points per 100 possessions. When he's on the court, that number rises to a more respectable 101.6. In other words, the Magic is never more efficient than with Payton on the court, and never less efficient than when he's on the sideline.

He's egoless, which is perhaps his most impressive trait of all. Payton knows he can't shoot, so doesn't really try. For now, that's the best thing he can do. (Instead of frowning at his weakness, think of it as buried treasure; the day Payton digs up a jump shot is the day he becomes a perennial All-Star.)

He's already an NBA team's lead ball-handler, dictating tempo, running an obscene number of pick-and-rolls and always focusing on making others better with the smartest possible pass. It's a difficult role to fill, but on some nights Payton makes it look like child's play.

Mental toughness is great, but ultimately it has little to do with swiping a Rookie of the Year trophy from weightier candidates like Andrew Wiggins, Nikola Mirotic and Nerlens Noel. Averaging the sixth most assists per game (8.4) in the whole league since the All-Star break helps. But probably not enough.

Truth is, Payton won't win this thing. That's fine. His rookie season was no fairy tale, but overall it was encouraging. He showed he belongs, persevering despite a crippling hiccup in his skill-set. Was he the most physically impressive rookie in his class? No chance. But no rookie had more on his plate. And more often than not, Payton lived up to the challenge.