There’s always that one guy in every Finals series. The one who wasn’t supposed to be here. No flashy hype, no first-round buzz, no mixtapes that went viral in high school. Just grit and hustle. That player who shows up, game after game, and does the dirty work no one else wants. This year, for the Thunder, that guy is Alex Caruso.

And somehow, some way, this 31-year-old defensive dog is right in the middle of OKC’s championship push. Stealing possessions. Guarding MVPs. Shooting daggers when no one expects it. But here’s the real kicker: he wasn’t even drafted. Yeah. Undrafted. Overlooked. Forgotten before he even got started.

What was Alex Caruso’s college career like at Texas A&M, and how was he viewed by NBA scouts?

Caruso did his time at Texas A&M. All four years. No early declarations, no one-and-done dreams. Just slow, steady, grind-it-out hoops. He left as the Aggies’ all-time leader in both assists and steals. Dude had vision. Knew the floor like a quarterback. Defended like his life depended on it. Coaches loved him. Scouts? Not so much.

He was never a box-score darling. Averaged under 10 points a game in college. Didn’t dunk over people. Wasn’t pulling up from 30. The guy just… played smart basketball. But in a league obsessed with wingspan, verticals, and YouTube highlights? That wasn’t enough.

“Glue guy,” they said. “High IQ, but limited ceiling,” they whispered in those war rooms. His shot was streaky. Not elite. And he didn’t have that “can he guard 1 through 5?” mystique that teams salivate over.

What were the limitations or concerns about Caruso’s game in the eyes of NBA front offices during the 2016 draft?

He was 6’5″; a decent height, but he didn’t pop athletically. No explosive first step. No mind-blowing combine numbers. Just a steady guard with average quickness and shaky three-point range.

He wasn’t a pure point guard either. More of a combo, but not a scoring threat. And in 2016, the NBA was leaning hard into floor spacers and rim runners. Caruso was… in between. He didn’t fit cleanly into a mold. So yeah. The draft came. 60 names got called. His wasn’t one of them. But that’s not where his story ends. Not even close.

Shortly after, Caruso showed up to a tryout in Oklahoma City. G League, not NBA. Just a chance. A whisper of hope. He didn’t know it then, but the Thunder staff already had their eyes on him. Mark Daigneault, now OKC’s head coach, remembered how hard Caruso balled in a blowout loss back at A&M. The score didn’t matter. Caruso played like it did. By the end of that workout? He wasn’t just trying out. He was leading it. Coaching it. Teaching the other guys. He claimed a roster spot with the OKC Blue and got paid just $13K. Barely enough for rent. But it was a start.

Still, it wasn’t smooth sailing. Others got call-ups. He didn’t. Even when he dominated in the G League, NBA teams passed. A two-way contract? Nope. Crickets. He kept working anyway. “Presti admitted he got that one wrong,” Caruso said later with his usual dry smirk. Gotta love the chip on his shoulder. Eventually, the Lakers gave him a Summer League shot. That turned into a two-way. That turned into a bench role. And suddenly, boom, he’s guarding Jimmy Butler in the 2020 Finals and walking away with a ring. Fast forward to now? He’s the Thunder’s secret weapon. The missing piece.

Caruso didn’t just survive the G League. He built himself there. Earned every second of his NBA life. And now, with OKC on the brink of a title run, he’s back where it all began. The same franchise that took a flyer on him is now leaning on him for leadership, defense, and a little bit of everything else.

There are still games where he scores 4 points. Doesn’t matter. The impact goes way beyond numbers. Ask Jokic. In Game 7 of the West Finals, Caruso fronted him, harassed him, limited his touches. GeniusIQ stats show Jokic scored just 0.78 points per play against him. That’s wild. A 6’5″ guard doing that to a 284-pound MVP. And when the Thunder dropped Game 1 of the Finals? It was Caruso in Game 2 who dropped 20 points, knocked down clutch threes, and lit a fire under OKC’s bench.

Caruso’s not flashy. Never was. But he sees the floor like a chess master. He talks on defense like a linebacker. And he always; always, plays like it’s Game 7. From the guy first cut by Billy Donovan… to the one now setting the tone for Daigneault’s Finals squad… it’s been a wild, gritty, beautiful journey.

Maybe that’s the lesson here. You can’t always measure greatness in combine drills or college stats. Sometimes it’s in the deflections. The hustle. The sacrifice. The way a guy walks into a locker room and earns the trust of future MVPs like Shai Gilgeous-Alexander. So yeah, Alex Caruso went undrafted. But don’t confuse that with being unwanted. Or unworthy. Turns out, he was just getting started.