I’ve spent the better part of a decade observing the global basketball landscape, from grassroots academies to professional leagues, and one narrative that consistently fascinates me is the development of the modern big man. It’s a journey fraught with unique challenges, especially for players coming from regions where the traditional, back-to-the-basket center is still the archetype. This brings me to Kai Sotto, the 7-foot-3 Filipino phenom whose career trajectory has been a subject of intense scrutiny and hope. His path, particularly his time at The Skill Factory (TSF) in Atlanta, offers a compelling case study in how specialized training is fundamentally rewriting the blueprint for developing elite big men. I’ve visited facilities like TSF, and what sets them apart isn’t just the equipment; it’s a philosophy. It’s the understanding that in today’s positionless game, a player’s height is a starting point, not a definition.
The traditional model for developing a player of Sotto’s size often focused on rim protection, rebounding, and low-post moves. While those are invaluable, the game has evolved at a breakneck pace. The demand now is for bigs who can switch on defense, handle the ball in transition, shoot from the perimeter, and make quick decisions. This is where institutions like The Skill Factory enter the picture. Their program, from what I’ve analyzed and heard from peers in player development, is notoriously comprehensive. It’s not just about adding a three-point shot; it’s about rebuilding a giant’s coordination, footwork, and basketball IQ from the ground up. For Sotto, whose early years in the Philippines showcased soft hands and good touch, the challenge was translating that skill into the pace and physicality of a more competitive environment. TSF’s approach seems to have been about granular skill deconstruction. We’re talking thousands of reps on dribble-handoff reads, pick-and-pop mechanics, and close-out defensive slides—drills that were once reserved for guards. I remember watching footage from his TSF stint; the improvement in his lateral quickness and shooting fluidity, even over a few months, was noticeable. It wasn’t magic; it was targeted, high-volume, intentional work.
This process mirrors a broader theme in basketball development, one hinted at in the observation about teams waiting for their youth to grow up. The line, “while the Tamaraws have shown flashes of brilliance, their true breakthrough will come when their youth grows up,” perfectly encapsulates the patient, holistic investment required. It’s not enough to be tall and talented. True potential is unlocked through a maturation process that blends physical training with tactical education. Sotto’s journey—from the Philippines to TSF, to the G League Ignite, and through various professional stops—reflects this. Each phase was a step in a longer curriculum. The Skill Factory acted as a crucial bridge, accelerating his technical “growing up” so his physical tools could be fully weaponized. I’ve always believed that for a player with his profile, spending a dedicated period in such a skill-centric incubator is more valuable than immediate, high-pressure professional minutes where mistakes are punished and development can become secondary to results.
Let’s talk numbers, though estimates are always tricky in development. During his intensive training blocks at TSF, it’s plausible Sotto was taking upwards of 1,500 jump shots per week, with a focus on extending his range beyond the three-point line. His ball-handling drills, often against smaller, quicker defenders, would have been designed to increase his comfort level when putting the ball on the floor—a non-negotiable skill for a modern five. Defensively, the emphasis shifts from pure shot-blocking to containment. The goal isn’t just 2.5 blocks per game; it’s reducing the opponent’s effective field goal percentage when he’s the primary defender in pick-and-roll situations, a metric that’s become gold in advanced analytics. This is the unglamorous work that doesn’t always make highlight reels but forms the bedrock of a complete player.
My personal view is that the industry still undervalues this type of intermediary training for big men. There’s a rush to project them onto teams, to see them in games. But without this dedicated skill-forging period, many stall. Sotto’s choice to invest time at TSF was, in my opinion, a shrewd one. It signaled a commitment to becoming a player for the next era, not just a relic of the past. The results are evident in his more versatile, confident playing style. He’s not a finished product—no young player ever is—but the toolkit has been significantly expanded. The flashes of brilliance, like his passing vision from the high post or his improved perimeter stroke, are becoming more consistent. That’s the transformation. It’s the difference between being a tall player and being a skilled basketball player who happens to be tall.
In conclusion, the story of Kai Sotto and The Skill Factory is a microcosm of a revolution in player development. It proves that the ceiling for today’s big men is no longer set by their height, but by their skills, and those skills can be systematically taught, honed, and perfected. The patience required—that idea of waiting for youth to grow up—applies not just to teams, but to the players themselves and the ecosystems that support them. Facilities like TSF provide the accelerated, focused environment for that growth to occur. As the game continues to evolve, the success of players like Sotto will increasingly depend on their willingness to embrace this holistic, skill-first transformation. For aspiring giants around the world, his path offers a clear, if demanding, roadmap to unlocking their own potential.
