In the summer of 2007, Jimmy Butler got out of a car at a Chevron station north of Houston for nothing more than the promise of a chance. He had a high school degree, solid grades and test scores, and no plan for college other than what he told his driver, Alan Branch: “Whoever will take me. Wherever I get a chance.”
Branch, who ran a Texas high school scouting service, pulled out of the Chevron. He believed in Butler for reasons that were hard to explain, which may be why all the college coaches he lobbied said no. They wanted players with defined positions and skills that would obviously translate, and what Branch saw, besides “efficiency and IQ,” was a kid who was “majestic.”
“He always kind of stood with as tall a posture as possible,” Branch says. “He always looked you right straight in the eye and talked to you.”
