Sideline Cut:The NBA first-round draft took place during the week, whereby the 30 most sought-after young basketball players in America and, arguably, the world, were catapulted into the hardwood heaven that guarantees a lifetime of financial security, pampering and celebrity perks and an opportunity to shine in the gruelling 90-game season. This year, the towering Greg Oden is the man of the moment, the number-one pick who is expected to revitalise the fortunes of the ailing Portland Trailblazers, who have not won a national championship since Jimmy Carter ran the White House.

The draft is wonderfully democratic in that the worst teams on a given year are entitled to choose the cream of the crop. Like almost every other aspect of professional sport, the draft has been broadened into a fully fledged event, with speculation and hoopla and pictures showing invariably tall and smiling young men wearing designer suits and baseball caps bearing the logos of their new teams.

But the draft is also a brutal reminder of how difficult it is to reach the promised land of American professional basketball. For every one of the 30 players who will feature on the NBA games broadcast around the world next season, dozens of others who played alongside them for the last four years will seek out contracts in Europe or in development leagues. Others will just accept the fact that, though they belonged to the top one percent of players of their generation, they were not quite good enough to "make it".

And - their best days of sporting achievement behind them by their early 20s - they will settle for the mortal life: the anonymous career, taxes, Friday-night beers and the bittersweet sensation of watching former team-mates on television.

One of the most talked-about selections of this year's crop was Joakim Noah, an energetic 6ft 10in power forward with an unruly ponytail.

Wimbledon fans old enough to remember the 1980s will probably recall Joakim's father, the unorthodox stylist Yannick Noah, who stood out in the strawberry-and-cream days for being black, French and seemingly addicted to returning the tennis ball with a through-the-legs shot whenever possible.

Noah senior's signature shot involved an often ill-advised sortie to the net, from where, after finding himself lobbed by a Mats Wilander or a Michael Pernfors or a grumpy John McEnroe, he would scamper backward and thrill the expectant crowd by effecting a return through his legs while facing away from the net. It was unbelievable the first time we saw it and still fairly enjoyable 3,000 repeats later.

There were probably many young lads from Gweedore to Hook Head who came close to castrating themselves in foolishly attempting to imitate Noah.

The Frenchman tended to amuse the BBC's Dan Maskell and was generally good for a quarter-final. After retiring, he reinvented himself as an avant-garde musician, causing outrage by reworking La Marseillaise with a hippy, pacifist message but also building up a sufficient fan base to develop a second career.

Noah senior was rarely present at his son's games with the Florida Gators team that won the last two March Madness NCAA basketball tournaments.

Instead, his mother, Cecilia Rhode, whose claim to fame was winning Miss Sweden 1978, was shown at almost every time-out beaming with pride. And when Florida retained the NCAA title in this year's national championship game, young Joakim made his way up through the fans to envelop Mom in a huge bear-hug.

These are the kind of syrupy images US college basketball bosses love, because they give credence to the illusion the college game is an innocent coming-of-age ritual instead of a fiercely competitive and lucrative industry in its own right.

Noah was the 10th pick overall and was lucky enough to be chosen by the Chicago Bulls, a club only now beginning to get their house in order following the vacuum created by Michael Jordan's departure. It seems incredible in retrospect that Jordan was only the third pick of the 1984 draft.

The lowly Trailblazers had the first option in that season as well but opted for a tall and undeniably talented centre named Sam Bowie. Superb in college, the big man found the strain of the NBA too physically demanding, was traded after two seasons and gradually faded into obscurity.

As Jordan began to redefine basketball and establish himself as one of the sporting icons of the late 20th century, the Trailblazers' selection was deemed the worst in draft history.

Oden will be hoping he does not suffer the same fate. But the NBA is littered with seemingly gilt-edged prospects who simply could not cope with the pressure and physical intensity of the real world.

In 1989, the Louisville centre Pervis Ellison was supposed to turn the lowly Sacramento Kings into a substantial team. His seemingly unflappable on-court temperament earned him the sobriquet "Never Nervous Pervis", but at Sacramento he spent so much more time on the treatment table than on the floor that a team-mate, Danny Ainge, dubbed him "Out Of Service Pervis".

The college game has remained the coaches' domain, and while young players can excel within the well-defined structure set by the men on the sidelines, they can melt in the face of the one-on-one combat that defines NBA games. Hence, many players who enjoy spectacular and famous college careers struggle simply to exist in the harsher environment of the NBA. And it just so happens most of these are white.

Megabucks are not the only things that separate the NBA from the college game. Colour is another thing. It is impossible not to notice that whereas many college teams feature a good many whites, the NBA is predominantly black in profile. Duke, the private North Carolina college with a reputation for producing exceptional if somewhat prissy teams, have probably sent more whites to the NBA than any other.

For the past four years, the Duke poster boy was JJ Redick, the highest points scorer in the history of Duke basketball and one of the most accurate jump shooters in college history. He was also extraordinarily mentally tough, as hated in all away venues as he was adored in his home court at Cameron, where he had his number retired in his final game.

Redick was good enough to be drafted and currently shoots ball for the Orlando Magic, where he earns a shed-load. But he was realistic enough to know his days of being the star of the floor were ending even as his NBA career began, admitting the best he could hope for was some time as a solid role-player.

At least Redick made it. The most famous recruit never to actually play in the NBA was Len Bias, who ought to have formed the most potent partnership in basketball with Larry Bird when chosen as second pick by the Boston Celtics in 1986. While celebrating his new-found fame, Bias overdosed on cocaine and was dead 48 hours after graduating to the NBA. Bird called it, "the cruellest thing I've ever heard".