12 Giant Men Do Not Leave the Summit: Again No. 1 in FIBA Power Rankings

Tonight, the pitch whispers — and I hear the breath of football. No, not football. It's the sound of a basketball rolling on wooden floors, the sound of shoes sliding across painted lines, the sound of a referee's whistle cutting through the air. But there's something strangely familiar: the feeling of a collective standing at the summit, where cold wind and loneliness coexist. Turkey, the 12 Giant Men, has just maintained the No. 1 spot in the FIBA power rankings. This is no longer a surprise, but a repeated affirmation. But the real story isn't in the No. 1 ranking. It lies in what happened before, in the darkness of the qualifying windows, where there's no World Cup spotlight, where people measure the depth of a program rather than the brilliance of a star. The context of this story begins with an absence. Alperen Şengün, the 22-year-old center for the Houston Rockets, Turkey's only NBA star, did not participate in the qualifying campaign. No official explanation was given, no public controversy. Only a silent absence, like a deliberate void. And in that void, the 12 Giant Men wrote their story: 8 wins in 8 games, a +65-point combined margin against Lithuania and Iceland, and becoming the first team in the world to officially secure a World Cup berth. FIBA had to speak up, emphasizing that this dominance occurred even without their biggest star. That's a signal, but a signal of what? Let me be clear: the victory over Lithuania is the most notable data point, not Iceland. Lithuania is a basketball program with deep history, having finished 3rd at the 2026 World Championship and won multiple EuroBasket medals. A dominant win with a large margin against them doesn't just speak to offensive strength; it shows that Turkey's defensive system completely neutralized Lithuania's traditional post-up game. This requires thorough preparation, tactical discipline, and a collective that understands each person's role. Meanwhile, not having Şengün may have forced the team to play faster, more perimeter-oriented, and with more ball movement. This is an admirable tactical adaptation, but it also raises a big question: can a system built without him seamlessly integrate a ball-dominant center who creates opportunities like Şengün? I've followed many national teams through qualifying windows, and I've noticed that a star's absence usually creates two scenarios: either the team collapses, or the team finds a new identity. Turkey chose the second scenario, and that's truly remarkable. But here's the blind spot in this beautiful story. The FIBA power ranking is a snapshot based on current form, not a prophecy. History has proven this: in 2026, Serbia was No. 1 in the power rankings before the World Cup and finished 5th. In 2026, some rankings placed the USA at No. 1, and they didn't win a medal. So, Turkey's No. 1 ranking during the qualifying phase — where windows are scattered over months, where national teams often lack NBA players due to the NBA season schedule — doesn't fully reflect true strength at a compressed tournament like the World Cup. The World Cup is a different test: 5 group-stage games in about two weeks, where star power and rapid adaptability can make a bigger difference than roster depth. And there's another thing I want to emphasize: this ranking doesn't include the USA in the top 4. That's not because the USA is weak, but because FIBA's qualifying structure means the American team, with its all-NBA roster, doesn't participate in the same way. So, Turkey's No. 1 ranking isn't a declaration of 'we are the best team in the world,' but rather 'we are the best team in the FIBA qualifying ecosystem.' This distinction is crucial. However, there's an undeniable truth: European basketball is dominating. The top 4 of the ranking — Turkey, France, Germany, Serbia — are all European teams. Germany is the reigning world champion, yet they're only ranked 3rd, which shows this ranking values current form over historical achievement. France with 21-year-old Victor Wembanyama is opening a potential era of dominance. Serbia with Nikola Jokić in his prime remains a formidable force despite dropping to 4th. And Turkey, having secured their World Cup berth early, has the advantage of preparation time. They can schedule high-quality friendlies, test lineups with Şengün, and build cohesion without the pressure of qualifying. This is a strategic advantage not every team has. But it also raises a bigger question: was Şengün's absence from qualifying a deliberate decision by the Turkish Basketball Federation to preserve him for the World Cup? If so, that's a sign of close coordination between the federation and an NBA team — a growing trend in international basketball. But it also creates invisible pressure: if Turkey performs poorly at the World Cup with Şengün, the narrative shifts to 'they played better without him.' That's a double-edged sword. The ghostly applause of that summer still echoes in me, like an unfinished poem. I remember nights watching qualifying games in the darkness of my living room, no spectators, only the sound of the ball bouncing and the players' breathing through the screen. And I realized that, for me, the story of the 12 Giant Men isn't just about victory. It's about how a collective redefines itself when there's no star leading. It's about how '12 Dev Adam' became a brand of collectivism, not of an individual. This has deep cultural and psychological value: it creates an identity that any player can, whether or not Şengün is present. If Turkey wins a medal at the 2027 World Cup, I believe this brand will be heavily commercialized — from jerseys, merchandise, to media value. And if they don't win a medal, the story becomes a cautionary tale about the danger of believing in rankings. But whatever the outcome, I think we're witnessing a real rise of Turkish basketball. And for someone who has spent 32 years observing the sports industry like me, that's something to cherish. Football is the most beautiful sadness I've ever known. But basketball, for me, is a different kind of sadness — the sadness of precision, of decisive moments in a split second, of having to make a choice in a tenth of a second. And Turkey is teaching us a lesson about patience and depth. They're not rushing, not depending on one star, not getting swept up in praise. They build from the foundation, from the domestic BSL league, from youth academies, from a brand that has existed since the 2000s. And when the World Cup comes, they'll have a battle-tested roster, a proven system, and a star at his peak. The remaining question is: can they turn potential into reality? I don't know. But I know I'll be sitting in front of the screen, listening to the breath of the game, and waiting for the answer.