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Jesser: Trae Young Tried to Unmask the Fake NBA Player and It Came Down to One Brutal Question

Trae Young Tried to Unmask the Fake NBA Player and It Came Down to One Brutal Question

Trae Young walked into the gym and immediately started studying stances. Six masked men were lined up, each claiming to be a current or former NBA player, and the Atlanta Hawks point guard had roughly five rounds to help separate the real ones from the one imposter hiding among them. The stakes were simple and the logic was merciless: vote off every genuine NBA player first, leave only the fraud standing, and the group wins. Miss once, and the imposter walks away with the crown.

The format puts a premium on the kind of institutional basketball memory that most fans will never have. Team rosters, draft classes, forgotten teammates, obscure career highs. The imposter only needs to survive long enough for the real players to burn each other.

When the voice gives you away before the mask comes off

The first elimination was never really in doubt. Number 2 claimed to have played shooting guard for the 76ers, the Wizards, and a couple of other teams, then stopped conspicuously before finishing his list. Within minutes, the group had catalogued his stance, his laugh, and his bowlegged posture. Jesser identified him flatly: ‘That’s the only person that stands like that and laughs like that and sounds like that.’ Nick Young, known to most fans as Swaggy P, had deliberately omitted his time with the Los Angeles Lakers to buy himself cover, and it almost worked. He lasted a solid five minutes before the group voted him out unanimously, making him the first confirmed real player to be eliminated.

From there the questioning sharpened. Number 3 revealed he was drafted 19th overall to Miami in 2004, won a championship in 2006 alongside Shaq and Wade, and later moved to Golden State. A casual question about whether Trae had ever golfed with him in Vegas, combined with a 2K rating recall of roughly 81, narrowed the identity down fast. The group voted him off as Dorell Wright, and they were right.

Number 5 took a different kind of heat. He had been active since 1995, citing Sacramento, Boston, and Indiana, and named Reggie Miller as his favorite teammate, which Trae called a deep pull. A challenge sequence on the court, where number 5 audibly groaned on his jump shot attempt, gave the group pause, but his UCLA background and Sacramento roots eventually confirmed him as Tyus Edney. Number 1, tall, smooth, and methodical, turned out to be Chase Budinger, a former Houston Rockets wing who had competed in an NBA dunk contest.

The question nobody could answer

That left number 4 and number 6 as the final two. Number 4 knew that Cory Joseph and Tristan Thompson were his college teammates at Texas, that he was drafted 26th overall in the same class as Kyrie Irving, and that Chris Paul was his point guard during a single season with the Lob City Clippers before he moved to the Pelicans and played alongside Jrue Holiday. The detail came fast and without hesitation.

Number 6 had dunked cleanly over the group’s designated defender during a challenge, claimed a career high of 22 points, and said he was born in Nigeria before attending Oregon State. But when pressed on who he scored those 22 points against, he could not remember. When asked to name the city where Oregon State is located, he came up blank. Those two moments, back to back, settled it.

The group voted number 4 out as a confirmed NBA player. He was Jordan Hamilton. Number 6 was the imposter, posing as Eric Moreland.

The guy who dunked for $200 and still lost

Number 6 had offered one moment that nearly flipped the room. When Jesser offered $100, then immediately raised it to $200, for anyone who could dunk on the defender, number 6 went up and finished cleanly. The crowd clapped. Jesser owed $200. Zach, who had been playing defense, did not look thrilled. But the energy of that single play had almost papered over every vague answer that came before it.

The imposter’s best move was athleticism. His undoing was two questions he could not dodge: a career high he had already claimed on the record, and the name of his own college town. Those gaps closed the case the same way Trae Young closed it from the start, by reading what a body does when the story stops adding up.

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