Watch the NBA long enough and many of the sets start to look mighty similar.

After all, any sport at the highest level is a copycat league where coaches steal great concepts from each other. In a league that puts such a high emphasis on scouting and knowing the plays coming on the next possession, very little occurs on an NBA basketball court that is a genuine surprise to those well-informed and well-studied coaches.

Nonetheless, certain teams get to their patented plays with success despite the level of scouting. Whether due to sleight of hand, similarity to other sets in the playbook or simple brilliance, some coaches have one play they will pull out of a hat when they need a basket. Here’s how some of the most common ones work:

If ten years ago I told you that a team would win three out of four NBA Championships by employing a switching man-to-man defense, you'd have likely said that was garbage.

Switching is for rec league, for the lazy guy that doesn't want to get around a screen. It isn't an aggressive strategy, just a cop out, a dirty word for defensive-minded coaches. If you're tough, you fight through the action and find a way to stop your man.

Switching is for cowards.

Yet, here we are in 2018 and the Golden State Warriors have accomplished such a feat. Three titles in four years via a group of talented players that actually want to switch ball screens and open themselves up for mismatches. Such a concept might seem foreign to many fans and even former players who were brought up to believe switching was a dirty word.
​
So how did we get to the point where switching is not just a strategy utilized in the league, but perhaps the optimal one?

​A lot can change in twenty years.

Two decades ago, Michael Jordan had just retired and an era of post-up basketball took over. The San Antonio Spurs won an NBA Championship with Tim Duncan and David Robinson towering on the blocks. Shaquille O'Neal was perhaps the most dominant back-to-the-basket scorer in the league. The NBA was a different place, with offenses designed around throwing the ball into the post, cutting slowly around those interior isolations and begging the defense to collapse.

John Stockton was whizzing around the court in his Tobias Funke-like cut-offs, as guys like Jason Kidd and Jason Williams defined what it meant to be a "true point guard."

Each position had clear roles and skills, based on a player's size. Smaller guards played with the ball in their hands and initiated offense. Big men rarely strayed from the blocks and elbows. Anyone in-between was a cutter, a shooter and blended all necessary skills.

Few were able or willing to color outside those lines.

Fast-forward to present day: Post-ups are seldom used, with spacing, shooting and spreading the floor taking precedence over Bully Ball. Scoring is at an all-time high; Perhaps, the level of skill from all five players on the floor is, too. Coaches and players utilize individual skill in more creative, outside-the-box ways: seven-footers bring the ball up the court and shoot threes, six-foot guards are primary interior defenders and some star players do a little bit of everything on both ends.

We're approaching a league that is genuinely positionless–or at least that defies the traditional stereotypes.
​
So how did we get here? What key changes took place to lead the league down this path, and why has this been so successful from an offensive standpoint? There are a few major milestones that helped pave the road for a smoother-than-you'd-think transition.

​As a senior in college, I contemplated many different jobs upon my graduation. After talking myself out of applying to jobs in politics, I ended up comfortably deciding to become a coach and a teacher. Being on the front lines of a basketball team was something I wasn't willing to sacrifice, and to this day I'm thankful that was the path I chose.

Still, I wonder what would've happened if I chose the third path I stared down: becoming an NBA scout.

During my college years, I had conversations with a few people in league circles – one regional scout and one former general manager—about joining the ranks of the loneliest and most under-appreciated workers in professional basketball. As much as I love basketball, I was mortified by the commitment that I found out goes into being a scout.

You don't have to just know basketball or love basketball. You have to make it your life, one-hundred percent. It is more than sitting in a chair and watching a game, making determinations about whether a player is good or whether your team should draft them.
​
There are many shoes that scouts can fill and many different positions within the umbrella of evaluation. Four main categories stick out: