Hiring patterns in the NBA offer some parallels in what to look for when scouting talent for the corporate world.

Greg Oden, the freshman center from Ohio State, was the first player selected in last week's NBA draft. Oden is a dominating, 7-foot center. He's strong, fast, smart, self-motivated and mature emotionally and physically (like fellow Ohio native Lebron James, he looks 35, not 19.). He is considered to have the potential to dominate at every level where he's played, in the style of NBA legends such as Bill Russell and Hakeem Olajuwon.

The corporate equivalent of "dominating at every level" is an executive consistently having a significant, positive impact in nearly every job she or he has had. Don't expect to see success in every role; even superstars lose some games.

But if these executives have not dominated consistently, they are either sporadic performers or are lacking in their abilities to evaluate roles and choose the right employers. That's a shortcoming in judgment that may also manifest itself on the job.

Recent NBA hiring trends offer some interesting lessons for the corporate recruiter. If Oden reaches his full potential in the NBA as a superstar center, he will be almost alone in that role. The NBA's current talent base is rich, with young stars such as James and Dwayne Wade and an infusion of talent from around the globe. Yet, for the first time in 45 years, the NBA is virtually bereft of great centers who can control the game on offense and defense.

Aside from Michael Jordan's Chicago Bulls and the "Bad Boy" Detroit Pistons led by Isaiah Thomas, nearly all NBA dynasties were led by superstar centers. A great center shatters an opponent's defense by scoring near the basket and freeing his teammates for easy shots; fractures the opponent's offense by blocking shots and allowing teammates to guard their men more tightly on the perimeter; and exhausts opponents at both ends of the court by being a great rebounder.

Granted, there were never many of these elite centers in the league -- usually four to six at any one time. But the legends of the past -- Russell, Olajuwon, Wilt Chamberlain, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Moses Malone and about fifteen others -- are matched today only by an aging Shaquille O'Neal, an inconsistent Yao Ming and a raw Dwight Howard.

Where have all the centers gone? NBA teams over the past decade came to value potential over production when assessing young talent. Accomplished senior All-Americans (such as Josh Howard of the Dallas Mavericks or Jameer Nelson of the Orlando Magic) were drafted at the end of the first round, long after an array of talented but undeveloped high school players had been selected.

The logic, sometimes stated explicitly, was dizzying: If potential is everything, these college seniors had already realized most of theirs. Although their accomplishments, team play and basketball IQ were stellar, their physical ability was only above average, not Jordanesque.

In contrast, the high schoolers were pure potential, allowing teams to project, or fantasize, that their selections might be the next Jordan. These selections were wondrously talented, but most have underachieved.

It is the center position that has suffered the most from the overemphasis on potential. When the top high school centers enter the NBA as skinny 18-year-olds, they can no longer easily dominate; they are teenagers being pushed around by men 10 years older. By skipping the intermediate developmental stage of college play, they lose the habit of consistently dominating games on offense and defense alike.

Back in the corporate world, "dominating," or excelling at increasing levels of responsibility, has several benefits:

• Proving consistency -  Even potential is of questionable value if it is not being fully realized in its current environment. Is this someone who exerts herself under all circumstances, or sporadically? If sporadically, does your organizational culture have the necessary elements that will bring out her best?

• Validating potential - are they good, or lucky? If you are extrapolating off a single job, there is no way to know.

A marketing vice president at a new-product division of a Fortune 50 company told me that he and his peers would sometimes spend hours debating whether a candidate's success in a previous role signified that he could excel in their organization. The CEO would often play devil's advocate by suggesting that the individual had simply been lucky, in the right place at the right time.

I suggested to him that the root cause of their dilemma was not negativity on the part of the CEO, but her sophistication. A single event does not constitute a statistical sample. The debates over the candidate's single major success were an attempt to compensate for insufficient historical data with which to analyze under what conditions the individual was successful, and why.

Greg Oden may become the next great center in the NBA. His one year of college play may have been just enough of a transition for him to retain the habit of dominating. But two more years of college play would have virtually guaranteed that he would have dominated in the NBA from the start.