What To Do With An Egor Demin: The Complicated Case For and Against Egor Demin
As a fan of the Washington Capitals and Alexander Ovechkin, I am all for Russian propaganda as long as it feeds into a successful sports team that I support.
For a brief moment, the idea of Egor Demin returning to BYU felt real. The script made sense—fringe lottery pick with a solid first-round evaluation, which compared well to the perceived value of a lucrative NIL contract. He would’ve had the chance to play alongside AJ Dybantsa, a potential boost to his draft stock if he outperformed expectations. It would’ve also been his second year under Kevin Young, following what had been an impressive debut season for the Cougars’ new head coach.
But then, just a few days later, Demin announced he was declaring for the NBA Draft. He couldn’t have made it a little bit more interesting by waiting a week?
Still, for a solid two-day stretch, a genuine conversation took place: what if he actually came back to college? People were into it.
Now, talking through his game—his strengths, weaknesses, potential—feels slightly awkward. Like discussing what you’d do with the apartment after your roommate moves out… only for them to hint at staying another year. You scrap all your redesign plans, the band’s back together! Then they leave. And suddenly, that pool table room doesn’t seem so fun anymore.
Egor Demin is a 6’9” guard/forward/whatever-you-want-him-to-be. Tough to define, easy to fantasize over—a recurring theme in this draft class. He wasn’t quite the breakout star many projected at BYU. In fact, as the team struggled early in conference play, his role and usage diminished, and strangely enough, the team improved.
He wrapped the season averaging 10.6 points, 5.5 assists (to 2.9 turnovers), and 3.9 rebounds per game. His shooting splits weren’t ideal—55.3% inside the arc, 27.3% from three, and 69.5% from the line. A 1.8 assist-to-turnover ratio suggests his creation game isn’t fully developed yet.
But, as Vladimir Demin would be quick to point out, context matters. Parsing performances within the structure of a system, especially in the college game, is crucial to fairly evaluating a player.
And for Demin, that context is… complicated.
Kevin Young’s hiring was hailed as a perfect match for BYU—one of the most respected assistant coaches in basketball, an LDS member, and, well, his name is Kevin Young. Hard to beat that trifecta for a Utah based university.
In his first season, Young brought firepower: BYU ranked 24th in points per game, 25th in field goal percentage (48.2%), and 6th nationally in two-point percentage (58.6%). They shot a ton—23rd most three-point attempts per game (28.6)—and hit them at a solid clip. But their ball movement might’ve been their biggest strength—10th in assists per game (17.3). And that’s where the point guard—or in this case, Demin—comes in.
Demin is a gifted passer. He makes difficult passes look routine. With BYU’s perimeter shooting as a known strength, his ability to zip passes from the top of the key to the corner punished defenses. He generates power from a standstill in ways that force defenses to stay on high alert.
More impressively, he can pass out of multiple situations. One of the best wrinkles in Young’s offense came during the Wisconsin game, where Demin operated in isolation, back to the basket, and found cutters with ease.
Even his entry passes into the post—something of a lost art for modern guards—stood out.
What’s interesting is how he struggled in two-man actions. Teams often tested him with forwards rather than guards, and he didn’t consistently punish mismatches created. Despite his height and coordination, he doesn’t generate separation well. It would be a big problem in their early match-up against Baylor — where Baylor would make a massive second half push for the potential upset. His first step lacks burst, and his top speed lags behind other guards. But like a minivan, it's less about how fast he gets there and more about the fact that he does.
It doesn’t hold him back, necessarily—it’s just a quirk.
BYU’s NBA-style offense will help ease his transition into the pros, but it also reveals some of his decision-making quirks. While he didn’t always take full advantage of high screens, he excelled in capitalizing on second and third looks created by spacing.
And let’s not forget—Demin isn’t your typical one-and-done. His path includes Russian systems and international tournaments. That mosaic of experiences has sharpened his floor-reading instincts and given him a maturity you can’t teach. He’s adapted often—a valuable trait in today’s NBA.
The swing skill, though, is his shooting. His touch around the rim keeps his efficiency up—he finishes with both hands and uses his size well, but not in a way that screams “self-creator.” He’s more of an opportunistic finisher than a downhill threat. Still, in the right system, those reads and cuts could yield easy buckets.
Transition play is where Demin really pops. Open floor, loose structure—that’s where his feel shines. He’s not just a hit-ahead guy; he processes the play before it unfolds. He threads tight-window passes, finds shooters early, and maintains control amid chaos. It’s orchestration, not improvisation.
Off the ball, he’s still developing. The lack of shooting gravity means defenses don’t fear him spotting up. If he’s going to function as a secondary handler, he’ll need to refine his off-ball movement—cutting decisively, relocating, slipping screens.
More worrying than the percentages is his reluctance to draw contact. At 6’9”, you’d expect a bit more physicality. Yet his free throw rate suggests he’s more comfortable floating than banging—only 2.3 attempts per game. That’s a development area.
So, here’s the tricky part: What if he’s not actually a point guard, and we’ve just talked ourselves into it? He can run offense, he has the tools. But is he really a point guard?
As Dallin Hall returned from injury, Demin added on more of a secondary role. It created a fluidity in BYU’s offense that forced defenses to adapt on the fly. Rotations got scrambled, mismatches emerged, and Demin’s connective skillset flourished.
But the major problem? The changes in shot type.
With BYU’s “rim-and-three” ethos, perimeter shots were a must. Demin averaged 4.7 attempts from deep but couldn’t consistently knock down open looks. If he had been even just respectably efficient as a catch-and-shoot threat, the conversation around him would shift dramatically. Instead of a gamble, he’d be seen as a high-upside prospect with a reliable floor.
Hence the Josh Giddey comps. Giddey improved his shot—38% from deep last season—while maintaining a similar assist-to-turnover ratio (8.6 to 3.4). If you believe Demin’s mechanics and athleticism are already ahead of where Giddey was, then projecting him as a more polished version in three years is appealing.
Others draw comparisons to Deni Avdija. As a Wizards fan, I can tell you: it’s not always fun. It’s a frustrating rollercoaster of potential, misused talent, and hope that the problem was the system, not the player. But to Avdija’s credit, he’s found his groove in Portland—attacking early, making smarter reads, and slowly improving his shot. Still, even in year five, he's averaging just 3.9 assists to 2.7 turnovers. Not a breakout, but a worthy comparison.
Or maybe he’s closer to Isaac Bonga. Remember him? A tantalizing Euro prospect who never quite made it. He’s now logging respectable minutes for Partizan, but the NBA didn’t stick.
And yes, “the shot can be taught” is the basketball version of “he’ll learn to hit a curveball.” Possible, sure. But many never do. Some just quietly fade out.
Yet, the idea of Egor remains tantalizing. Front offices and scouts can’t quite shake it.
Why? Because Egor lives in that in-between space—between what is and what could be. A 6’9” secondary creator with elite passing feel, court vision, and defensive potential? That sells. Especially in a draft lacking top-tier talent.
The numbers didn’t dominate, but context held him back. A team still finding itself, role changes, lineup experiments—these things matter. For those watching with a long view, there’s a sense he could pop in the right setting.
That setting probably wasn’t college. As appealing as a second year at BYU sounded—playing with Dybantsa, a clearer system, rebuilding momentum—it was never going to happen. The window is now, and Demin’s reaching for it.
What happens next hinges on a few things: Can he develop a passable jumper? Can he leverage his length on defense more consistently? Can he carve out a role where his lack of burst is masked, and his feel becomes a feature?
The pre-draft process—workouts, interviews, pro days—will offer more answers. Front offices will try to look past the shooting splits and evaluate the tools, the vision, the potential. There’s risk. But there’s also real upside. That’s what makes Demin such a fascinating, polarizing prospect.
He’s not a sure thing. He never was. But in this draft, filled with more questions than answers, the idea of a tall, skilled, high-IQ wing with room to grow?
That’s the kind of idea that gets you drafted.
Pros:
Tall.
Developed in European systems.
Will make one pass that makes you re-think your life choices every game.
The shot is very pretty.
Has maybe one of the few basketball dads that will be in the media a ton but you won’t be frustrated every time he’s speaking to the media.
Tall (again).
Will translate incredibly well to the pace of basketball, operating well in transition scenarios.
Cons:
Probably should have been better in Big-12 play.
Probably should be hitting some of the wide open looks he’s gotten.
Probably should be better executing in the two-man game than he really is.
Reminds me too much of Deni Avdija and I hate it but this is a purely selfish con.
Poorly performing at times in Kevin Young’s system is going to make the case of “will transition to the NBA incredibly well” really difficult. Like he’s the one guy where you don’t want to be saying that.