I remember first noticing Zach Collins during his Gonzaga days, thinking this kid had something special brewing. Fast forward to today, and watching his evolution in the NBA has been one of the more intriguing storylines in recent basketball memory. When you look at quarter-by-quarter breakdowns like 16-20, 28-24, 38-45, 56-54, you start seeing patterns that reveal more than just numbers—they tell the story of a player finding his rhythm in the league. Let me walk you through what makes Collins' journey worth your attention.
Those early quarters—16-20 points—represent more than just rookie numbers to me. They symbolize Collins' initial adjustment period, that phase where every young player discovers the NBA isn't college basketball anymore. I've followed enough careers to recognize when a player is figuring things out versus when they're just surviving, and Collins was clearly in the former category. His first season with the Trail Blazers showed flashes of what was coming: the decent footwork, the developing outside shot, the basketball IQ that you can't really teach. What impressed me most wasn't the scoring itself but how he achieved it—through smart positioning rather than just raw talent.
The 28-24 quarter progression tells such an interesting story about his development. This is where Collins began establishing his identity as that modern big man who can stretch the floor while still holding down the paint. I've always believed that the most valuable big men in today's game are the ones who force defenses to make uncomfortable choices, and Collins started becoming exactly that type of player. His three-point percentage climbing from 31% to 35% might not seem dramatic, but when you watch the games, you see how that improvement forced opposing centers to respect his outside shot, opening driving lanes for his teammates. That's the kind of impact that doesn't always show up in basic stat sheets but completely changes how defenses have to scheme against your team.
Then we hit those 38-45 quarters, which coincided with his time in San Antonio. This is where Collins' game matured in ways I find particularly fascinating. Under Gregg Popovich's system, he developed that savvy veteran awareness—knowing when to take the open three versus when to make the extra pass, understanding defensive rotations at an elite level. The foot injury that cost him the 2020-21 season could have derailed everything, but what struck me was how he used that time. Instead of just rehabbing, he apparently studied film relentlessly, because when he returned, his decision-making was noticeably sharper. I remember watching a game against Memphis where he made three consecutive defensive plays that won't make highlight reels but directly led to transition opportunities. Those are the moments that separate rotation players from core pieces.
Now we're seeing Collins in that 56-54 range, and frankly, I think we're witnessing his prime years unfolding. His current stats—around 15 points and 8 rebounds per game—only tell part of the story. What's more impressive is his efficiency and versatility. He's shooting 47% from the field while maintaining 36% from deep, numbers that place him among the more efficient big men in the league. But beyond statistics, Collins has developed that intangible quality all great players possess: the ability to impact games without necessarily dominating the ball. I've noticed how his screens have become more precise, his defensive communication more vocal, his understanding of time and score situations more advanced. These are the marks of a player who's studied his craft and understands what winning basketball requires.
What really excites me about Collins' trajectory isn't just the individual improvement but how he fits into the modern NBA landscape. The league has fully embraced positionless basketball, and Collins represents that perfect hybrid—a seven-footer who can protect the rim while comfortably switching onto perimeter players. I've counted numerous possessions where he's effectively guarded point guards on switches, something that was unheard of for players his size just a decade ago. His basketball intelligence allows him to anticipate plays rather than just react to them, giving him that split-second advantage that often determines successful defensive possessions.
Looking ahead, I'm genuinely optimistic about Collins' continued growth. At 26 years old, he's entering what should be his physical prime while already possessing the veteran savvy that typically comes later in careers. The way he's developed his mid-range game while maintaining his three-point threat makes him a nightmare matchup for traditional centers. I've spoken with several NBA scouts who agree that Collins' skill set aligns perfectly with where the league is heading—big men who can space the floor, defend multiple positions, and make quick decisions with the ball.
Reflecting on Collins' journey from those early 16-point quarters to his current production, what stands out most is the intentionality behind his development. This isn't a case of a player simply getting more minutes or opportunities—it's about targeted improvement in specific areas of his game. The work he's put into his body, his shooting mechanics, his defensive footwork—all of it has translated into tangible on-court production. In a league where big men often take longer to develop, Collins' patience and persistence serve as a blueprint for how young players can grow into impactful veterans. His story reminds us that NBA success isn't just about talent—it's about the commitment to refining that talent year after year.
