Egor Demin has been chasing the improbable for as long as he can remember. And now, improbably, he’s just about there. The destination is beautiful, but the path that led to this point hasn’t always been. Before Egor ever believed the NBA was possible, he was forced to believe in something else: sacrifice.
Sure, every prospect who’s reached this point has had to sacrifice something to get here. But Egor’s sacrifice was just…different. Not in the abstract sense, but in the deeply personal kind—the kind that asks a teenager to leave home at 15, cross continents, learn two new languages and carry the weight of not just his own ambition, but his family’s dreams. That kind of sacrifice.
We’re a few days out from the NBA draft, and Egor is on the cusp of hearing his name called, walking across the stage and shaking Adam Silver’s hand. The 19-year-old, 6-9 point guard—yes, point guard—has the vision of a veteran optometrist and the feel for the game of a seasoned pro. But none of that means much unless you understand what it took to get here.
You have to start in Russia.

Egor was born into basketball. His father had a long professional career and represented Russia on the national team. And his mother, who played until she was 18, was the first person to put the battery in his back.
“For me, it was just like, Well, that’s fun, because all my family was doing it,” Demin tells SLAM. “But then I had the moment where I heard my mom saying, Hey, if you really like it, then respect it. Put effort in this. And if you really want to play basketball, then try to be the best in it. And this is the moment when I kind of started to take it serious.”
But while kids stateside grow up with the NBA stitched into their imagination, Egor grew up a world away, where that dream felt distant, if not impossible.
“Growing up in Russia, it was always a dream, and it was always in my head,” he recalls. “But it always felt unreal, because it’s really far, and not many Russian players were in the NBA. It was always a feeling of, Well, how’s it even gonna happen?”
So rather than chase a dream that felt so out of reach, he focused on improvement. Relentlessly. By 15, it became clear he wasn’t just another tall kid with a nice handle. His gifts were unordinary for a kid his age, a kid his size. The way he processed the game. The way he saw space. The purpose he played with.
And with that clarity came a new choice: stay in Russia and hit the ceiling or leave everything behind in pursuit of something greater.

Egor moved to Spain to join Real Madrid’s famed youth system. His parents stayed behind.
Imagine that. You’re a teenager. You live in a new country. You barely speak the language. Your parents—your comfort, your counsel—are more than four thousand miles away.
“It was really hard to move to a different country and spend three years in Spain, really far away from my family and they couldn’t really come visit me. This was the hardest stage of my path,” he says. “When something was frustrating, or if I was sad, I couldn’t just call my parents, because they’d just freak out. So I’m thinking about how I could take care of my mental health, but I also gotta take care of my parents’ mental health.”
But he did it. And in doing so, he learned what it meant to be a pro. Soon enough, the dream no longer felt far-fetched. It felt tangible. And more than that, it felt earned. Now, it was time to take it to yet another level.
Egor could’ve taken the traditional NCAA route. Blue bloods lined up. He fielded offers from the likes of Duke, UConn and more. But like he’s done his entire basketball life, he took the path less traveled. He committed to Coach Kevin Young and Brigham Young University, becoming the Cougars’ then highest-rated recruit in program history.
Some asked, why BYU? The answer was simple: NBA pedigree.
“Who can prepare me better than an NBA coach?” Egor says. “Besides [Young], they had an NBA strength and conditioning coach. They had a nutritionist from the NBA. We had a mental coach from the NBA. Everybody’s like, Provo, Utah, is so boring. I’m like, You play basketball there, man!”
In Provo, he was everywhere. Guarding multiple positions. Running the break. Dishing with touch. Setting screens. Reading rotations. He became BYU’s connective tissue. And through it all, his game spoke louder than he did.
He sees the pass before you see the lane. He anticipates plays before they happen. His frame—long and fluid—lets him make plays few guards can. His basketball IQ exceeds his age, and his character might rate even higher than his game. That might be the most impressive part.
This isn’t a kid who’s been handed anything. He doesn’t see himself as a final product. He sees himself as a piece that can fit in any puzzle. A weapon that can be sharpened. A player who can make an impact now while evolving into something even greater.

His potential is untapped, but he’s eager to make an instant contribution to any organization that takes a bet on him. As for what that contribution may be? He doesn’t care.
“I just want to be helpful. Whatever it takes,” he says. “I want to bring my versatility to any team that takes me, and that’s why I believe I can be a good fit for any team.
“I’m not just a point guard, I’m a playmaker,” Egor continues. “I told every team I was meeting with [during the pre-draft process], Hey, I can be whatever you want me to be. I want to learn.”
Egor envisions himself being one of the strongest, most complete guards in the League someday. He envisions himself being one of the best defenders in the League. He wants to dominate in every aspect of the game. And he’s building the foundation brick by brick.
“I’m not running away from anything. I’m not trying to hide my weaknesses. I know it’s going to be hard anywhere I go,” he says. “I’m ready for the worst, but I’m expecting the best.”
His voice never wavers. You can tell he’s said this to himself in the mirror. During tough nights in Spain. During quiet days in Utah. During the moments no one sees. He isn’t playing for applause. He’s playing for meaning.
Every conversation with Egor eventually comes back to his family. His father, whose dreams stopped short. His mother, who first planted the seed of seriousness. The weight of their faith propels him to stay the course.
“I just talked to my dad a couple of days ago, and he was talking about how crazy life is,” Egor shares, “for bringing his kid dream to life through his kid.
“For me, it’s hard to really understand how big it is for him, because I don’t have kids yet. But I see myself in the future as a really proud father. My parents were living this whole process through me, and it was probably even harder for them than it was for me.”

The draft is days away. There will be cameras. A fresh suit. Green room nerves. And millions of new eyeballs on him. But Egor will walk in with the same mindset that took him across an ocean: gratitude.
“I have a lot of good people surrounding me. The opportunities that I’m getting are a blessing. It’s nothing but gratitude from my part,” he says. “Everything around me is taken care of, thanks to all these people around me. Now I just have to grind. I just gotta give my best to the game.”
There’s something riveting about the long road. The scenic route. The inconvenient path. It reveals more. Demands more. Shapes more.
Egor didn’t come up through viral mixtapes. He wasn’t raised in the AAU circuit. His journey—from Russia to Spain to Utah to the NBA—is the epitome of a tireless pursuit of excellence. And when his name is called on draft night, he won’t act surprised. He won’t act entitled. He’ll simply get ready.
To train. To adapt. To lead. To prove, over and over, that he belongs. He’s not a dreamer anymore. He’s the dream realized.
Photos via Getty Images.