Both 6 foot 6 and seemingly inseparable, Andrew and Aaron Harrison have always played on the same team. Most recently, the twins spent two years helping the Kentucky Wildcats make two consecutive Final Four runs. Aaron had the clutch shots. Andrew had the handles. But to most basketball fans, they were known as a package deal, a pair — the Harrison twins. First names were secondary. Even when their mother got a car for her birthday, the twins .
That most likely stands to change after June's NBA Draft. The from Sporting News's Sean Deveney has the San Antonio-born, identical brothers separated, with Andrew Harrison going 29th to the Brooklyn Nets and Aaron's stock dropping to the second round. Even if Aaron continues to slide, odds are against him falling to the same late-round team that picks his brother.
And they are both surprisingly at peace with that.
"We're excited about it actually," Aaron Harrison ESPN's Andy Katz.
"I mean, I love him more than anybody in the world, but we'll be fine," Andrew Harrison explained to Katz. "It'll be fun to be looked at as an individual. We can be able to show the world what we can do without each other."
It's understandable that two young men who shared a womb, and then the basketball spotlight, would want to shine on their own merit and make their own name. And while it may be bad news for Lisa Ann's , NBA history does not necessarily suggest that brothers bolster each other's games.
The sample size is admittedly small. Only four pairs of brothers — and two sets of twins — have played together on the same team in the NBA. And it's not exactly a murderer's row of superstars; on no one's NBA Mount Rushmore resides names like Arsdale, Morris, Hansbrough and Price. A brief look at their histories apart, and together, illustrates what the Harrisons may face should they part ways, or one day, reunite.
Mark and Brent Price intersected at distinctly different times in their careers when they collided as Washington Bullets in 1995. Mark Price was a four-time All-Star and former Cavalier, with nine seasons of sharpshooting on his resume. Younger brother Brent was coming off an injury that made him miss his entire third season; in the two seasons prior, he'd averaged only 14.2 minutes, 5.0 points and 2.8 assists per game. His shooting slashline was forgettable — .298/.293/.787 — and his 11.4 PER (player efficient rating) reflective of also-ran status.
Then Mark came to town. The less-talented brother picked up the pace. In 1995-96, Brent averaged 25.2 minutes, 10 points and 5.1 assists per game while starting 50 games at point guard. His shooting line (.472/.462/.874) and PER (17.5) portended great things to come for the younger Price.
For Mark, the reunion proved less fortuitous. He played only seven games that season due to injury — and started one. The career .479/.409/.906 shooter with a PER of 20.4 became an afterthought. In his final two seasons, he'd return to respectability (.439/.374/.883; 15.8 PER), but the damage was done.
Brent lost his luster upon parting ways with Mark. In six seasons with the Rockets, Grizzlies and Kings, he'd only start eight more games, shooting .417/.378/.808 with a PER of 11.8.
Aaron, like Brent before him, is probably the less NBA-ready of the Harrisons. Perhaps he would shine brightest when his brother's shadow is the closest. And perhaps Andrew should not accept any phone calls/advice from Mark; he's probably still a little bitter. It's only been 20 years.
Perhaps the more germane comparison to the Harrison twins is both the most recent brother pairing and the most successful (bear with me, here; I'm damning with faint praise). Markieff and Marcus Morris tick off a lot of the same boxes as the Harrisons: identical twins, blue-blood college pedigree (Kansas), alliterative names and decent beard game. And in this case, the better brother saw his game buoyed by his brothers' arrival.
When Marcus came over from Houston in 2013, Markieff made tangible strides. That season, pre-Marcus, Markieff was averaging 20.3 minutes, 7.3 points and 4.3 rebounds per game on 39.4 percent shooting. Once Marcus traded his Rockets jersey for the Suns logo (thus joining an exclusive club to have played for both of Buzz Lightyear's favorite teams), Markieff finished the season playing 26.6 minutes per game, averaging 10 points, 6.0 rebounds and 43 percent shooting from the field.
In the two seasons since, Markieff has put up some solid numbers: 14.6 points and 6.1 rebounds per game; a 47.5 field goal percentage; a 17.0 PER (compared to 12.1 as a rookie). Some of it is certainly the natural progression of an athlete aging into his prime. But perhaps the presence of his twin brother offered a bump. He to the Philadelphia Inquirer at the time:
"Wherever we're together, it's home," Markieff told Max Cohen. "We just go out there and have fun. The game isn't the same when we're apart."
Marcus, too, expressed the sentiment that the game had become more fun. And though his numbers didn't escalate at the same rate as his brother's, marginal improvements from 2013 to 2014 in PER (12.1 to 14.2), field goal percentage (42.8 to 43.8) and VORP (net negative to 1.8) suggest he avoided the Mark Price effect. And that's without including the harder to quantify happiness quotient.
Sometimes, when you've shared an umbilical chord, you're also happier when you share a court. Maybe the Harrisons will enjoy freedom in the short term; maybe one day they'll wish they were back together on the hardwood.
To make a matter of small sample sizes even worse, the other examples of brothers playing both together and apart in the NBA offer little takeaways. The original Suns twins — Dick and Tom Arsdale — didn't play together until their final season. And yes, they retired together after posting remarkably similar resumes. Both had been prominent players before they played their swan song in Phoenix. Neither shined. As far as we know, it wasn't the displeasure of being back together that pushed them toward retirement.
Also on the Suns: the Dragic brothers Goran and Zoran. Incredible names, but not much crossover. Zoran only played six games and 13 minutes with Phoenix before both brothers got traded to the Heat. In year one of Dragic-Dragic dominion in Miami, Goran saw his PER drop four points (21.4 to 17.4) — the same drop he suffered in points per game. But it's too soon to tell if time with Zoran is to blame. After all, little brother has only played 16 career NBA games and spent some time away from Goran as he toiled in the D-League for the Sioux Falls Skyforce.
The other brothers to play together are the hustling Hansbroughs, Tyler and Ben. They only played one season together as Indiana Pacers — 2012-13 — and Ben did not play in the NBA before or since. So, in that way, the presence of his brother marked both the peak and the valley of his career. For Tyler, the season represented a career high in games played, and little else. He saw a slight dip in minutes and points per game while statistics such as rebounds per game, field goal percentage and PER stayed essentially the same. Post-Ben, in Toronto, Hansbrough saw all of his stats except field goal percentage fall.
Don't wait until it's too late, Harrisons. And don't be Hans-bros.
If nothing else, a look back at basketball's brotherly history reveals rare statistical territory. Already, the Harrisons have accomplished something incredible. They will both make the NBA, becoming just the 62nd family of siblings to populate the league. And of those 61 sets of brothers that came before, only a handful played professional minutes on the same franchise.
So the true lesson: it's good that the Harrisons are excited to play on separate teams and carve their own legacies. Because history suggests it's more likely than not that they'll never play together again.
