Giampiero Sposito/Getty Images

Arjun Pradeep @IndianRegista

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Front pages of Gazzetta, Corsport and Tuttosport headline on a Juventus revamp.

Cristiano Ronaldo is furious & is waiting for reinforcements. CR7 remains the only guarantee for Juventus this summer.

The club is already targeting to play the 2020 UCL final in Istanbul. https://t.co/e38MaZi2io

WhoScored.com @WhoScored

HEAD-TO-HEAD: Miralem Pjanic vs Jordan Veretout

Will Pjanic help Juventus to their eighth successive title when they host Fiorentina this evening?

Full match preview — https://t.co/GuBbLTrQL4 https://t.co/KchDH4ejwd

Stats Football @statsfootbal

Miralem Pjanic most effective player for Juventus Ajax in the first half.

Accurate passes: 27 (81.8)
Key passes: 3
Total Point: 7.6

#JUVAJA https://t.co/YJ2Xrasa6p

Statman Dave @StatmanDave

Miralem Pjanic’s game by numbers vs. AC Milan:

30 minutes played
4 chances created
3 ball recoveries
1 interception
1 assist

Created twice as many chances as any other Juve player despite playing just 30 minutes. https://t.co/OXkGoqHYFU

Jessica Hill/Associated Press

Mitchell Layton/Getty Images

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Maddie Meyer/Getty Images

As the NBA draft approaches, front offices across the league will forecast best- and worst-case projections for the prospects they’re evaluating to assess the potential risk and reward. How high is Zion Williamson‘s ceiling compared to that of league MVP candidates? What happens if his skills never catch his athleticism? How good will Ja Morant be if his shooting improves? What if it doesn’t?

Based on their physical tools, athletic ability, skill sets and weaknesses, we created ceiling and floor projections for 2019’s consensus top NBA prospects, presented in alphabetical order.

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Alex Brandon/Associated Press

Best case: All-star reserve 

RJ Barrett made history books with his scoring this year, joining Zion Williamson, Trae Young, Kevin Durant, Carmelo Anthony, Michael Beasley and Markelle Fultz as the only power-conference freshmen to average at least 22 points.

At 6’7″ and 202 pounds, he should have the size and athleticism to continue scoring at a high level, though his methods may need fine-tuning. He does lean more on improvisation than calculated moves for high-percentage shots. 

Still, between his physical tools, special instincts and shot-making ability (73 threes in 38 games), Barrett has enough in his bag to average 20-plus points in his prime. And though he’s not known as a playmaker, his 4.3 assists per game reflect his potential to drive and kick or toss lobs to screen-and-rollers.

At best, he’s another version of DeMar DeRozan—a flawed but highly productive former All-Star.

Worst case: Quality/productive starting wing

Questions persist about how Barrett’s game will translate after he ranked in the 51st percentile in half-court offense, 59th percentile out of isolation and the 49th percentile as a pick-and-roll ball-handler. 

He also shot just 52.5 percent at the rim, where a lack of vertical explosion could lead to inefficiency against NBA rim protection. 

Barrett will produce—his knack for putting the ball in the hoop remains too strong. The question is whether the production will be impactful or empty. 

At worst, he still scores 15 to 20 points per game as a long-term starter—just one who might require a lot of shots while struggling to make the game easier for teammates. 

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Best case: Quality/productive starting center

On the radar since 2015, Goga Bitadze established himself as a legitimate first-rounder this season by expanding his scoring versatility inside and out. The 6’11” 19-year-old has impressed through 13 Euroleague games—the best possible test for evaluation purposes since he’s been relatively dominant in a weaker Adriatic League.

His improved shooting range has been a key development, as Bitadze has made 23 of his 59 three-pointers against all competition in 2018-19. He’s also become a tough cover in the paint who demonstrates more decisive footwork and soft hands.

Bitadze lacks defensive upside because of his slower speed on the perimeter and limited switchability. Unless he evolves into a difference-making rim protector, which his lack of strength and length suggest could be a long shot, being limited to guarding one position at an average level brings down his ceiling and value. 

Best case, he’s a top-three scoring option teams can feature around the block or key and in the pick-and-pop game. 

Backup center: Backup center 

Worst case, Bitadze has trouble adjusting defensively, and his shooting plateaus. Centers who play one position and don’t add defensive value or stretch the floor are typically relegated to bench roles. 

His size, mobility and offensive game are convincing enough to project a floor above G League level. With the right team, he’ll find his way into a rotation with his size, scoring moves and touch inside 12 feet.

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Elsa/Getty Images

Best case: All-star reserve 

Bol Bol has one of the draft’s higher ceilings, but he also has a low floor due to the risk caused by physical and durability concerns. 

His All-Star upside is fueled by unique 7’2″ size and rare skill, as Bol shot 13-of-25 from three through nine games while ranking in the 90th percentile on post-ups. He even flashed ball-handling acumen when he put the ball down and scored off the dribble. 

He executed shots with Kristaps Porzingis-like fluidity, particularly around the perimeter. And though his effort came and went defensively, his remarkable 7’8″ wingspan can still be disruptive around the basket. 

If Bol adds strength and continues to tighten his ball skills and shot creation, not many centers will be able to match up evenly.

Worst case: Bust

Bol couldn’t make it to Christmas before he suffered a stress fracture in his left foot. Given his size and skinny limbs—plus the injury history of big men with foot trouble—lottery teams may be hesitant to draft him.

Since high school, Bol’s tendency to prove he has guard skill away from the basket has created some concern. He isn’t physical around the basket, and his defensive impact fluctuates with his sense of urgency even though he blocked 2.7 shots per game at Oregon.

He could fall within the top 10 on some draft boards and rank between 20th and 30th on others due to his high bust potential.

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Sean M. Haffey/Getty Images

Best case: Star role player

Though Brandon Clarke won’t be a star scorer, he can thrive in a supporting role the way Pascal Siakam did for the Toronto Raptors this year.

But Siakam still has more upside left to unlock, while Clarke’s ceiling isn’t as high. Maximizing his potential means developing into a top transition weapon, finisher, putback machine and defender—and also building on the promising flashes of post play and line drives he showed at Gonzaga. 

In his best-case scenario, he’s a team’s most impactful defender with rim protection and switchability. Despite limited shot-creating ability, he finds a way to add offensive value with extreme finishing efficiency off rim runs, rolls, cuts and crashes, plus the occasional post-ups and drives past closeouts. 

Worst case: Bench energizer 

His bounce and motor should translate to activity and production at the rim, where he shot 74.3 percent and blocked 4.4 shots per 40 minutes.

But if the 6’8″ Clarke can’t create or shoot and isn’t as disruptive protecting the basket as he was at Gonzaga, he’ll be reduced to a reserve role. At the least, he could come off the bench to bring energy and off-ball plays.

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Matt York/Associated Press

Best case: Quality/productive starting shooting guard 

The national championship game raised doubt over Jarrett Culver’s star potential after he struggled to create quality looks against projected top-10 pick De’Andre Hunter. A lack of burst suggests he could have trouble serving as a volume scorer or top-two option for a winning team.

However, the appeal to Culver’s game stems from his well-roundedness. An eye-test standout for his size, length and fluidity, he also improved in key areas this season, including his finishing, pull-up shooting and playmaking.  

And though his three-point mark dipped to 30.4 percent, he flashed enough shot-making skill for scouts to remain optimistic about his eventual accuracy.   

Worst case: Reserve shooting guard 

Worst case, Culver remains an average shooter while also struggling to create his own looks. 

He’ll still find ways to score inside the arc using his physical tools, long strides, changes of speed and finishing instincts. He should also be a fine 2-guard defender given his length, foot speed and effective defense at Texas Tech. 

Even if he struggles to reach 35 percent from three, he should still be capable enough to remain a threat as a spot-up shooter in rhythm. 

Culver’s floor is a role player who checks boxes but doesn’t specialize in any one area. 

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Best case: Star role player

Only 18 years old, Sekou Doumbouya is playing 17.7 minutes in France’s top league and flashing enough glimpses of three-point shooting, drives and finishes for teams to feel optimistic about his skill development.

He’s still too raw as a creator and scorer to earn a projection with All-Star upside. But at 6’9″, 230 pounds—a physical profile similar to OG Anunoby (6’8″, 232 lbs)—Doumbouya will be valued for his defensive versatility, potential to stretch the floor and ability to make plays at the rim.

Best case, he’s a star role player who converts a high percentage of his threes, slashes and cuts while defending opponents’ top options and switching.

Worst case: Reserve forward

Doumbouya’s tools, athleticism and age, plus the promising eye-test results on his set shot, theoretically create a high floor.

Worst case, he gives a team defensive versatility and operates as a catch-and-score player who’ll only take high-percentage shots on offense.

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Cassy Athena/Getty Images

Best case: Middle-tier starting point guard 

Despite tearing his meniscus in November, Darius Garland made a compelling case with enthralling shot-making and ball skills during his only four full games at Vanderbilt.

He’s already sharp with a pull-up jumper (13-of-23) like the ones that have made most of the NBA’s top point guards difficult to defend. Garland also shot 6-of-9 on catch-and-shoot threes before he went down, padding his case as a versatile shooter and scorer on or off the ball. In that tiny sample size, his 1.44 points per possession on jump shots would have ranked in the 99th percentile. 

Shifty off the dribble, Garland also has enough handles and wiggle to create. How he uses that ability to shake free could determine his ceiling. He’s more of a scoring ball-handler than a passing playmaker.

He seemingly prefers off-the-dribble jumpers over layups, and he finished with 15 turnovers to 13 assists, which raises questions about whether he’s a lead guard coaches will want to initiate the offense. 

Worst case: Reserve guard 

For a 6’2″ guard with quickness, Garland’s ball-handling and shot-making are convincing enough. Worst case, teams use him for instant offense off the bench. He has the potential to knock down jumpers in bunches when hot and, though not known for his facilitating, is a capable set-up man when positioned to execute a pass. 

Playmaking inefficiency and defense—he can only guard one position against most teams—could lower his NBA value and make him tough to start.

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Sean M. Haffey/Getty Images

Best case: Quality/productive starting forward

By averaging 19.7 points on 59.1 percent shooting from the field, Rui Hachimura spent the season dominating offensively, mostly against inferior competition in the WCC. His points won’t come as easily at the next level unless he develops more shooting range.

Hachimura only averaged 0.4 threes in 30.2 minutes per game. He took 29 percent of his jumpers from between 17 feet and the three-point arc. At 6’8″, he lacks the size and explosion to maintain his elite effectiveness inside. 

But he’s still developed into a dangerous enough scorer around the key, particularly when facing up with quick rip-through drives and short jump shots, whether balanced or falling away. Hachimura does have mid-range touch, an impressive first step, a versatile post game and strong finishing ability.

His body and skill set resemble an idealized version of Jabari Parker. Hachimura’s flaws could also make him resemble the Parker who’s fallen out of favor over the past few seasons. 

Worst case: Reserve forward 

Hachimura will use his strength, quickness, footwork and inside skills to score. That package should keep him productive.

But coaches may hesitate to hand him big minutes if he can’t stretch the floor or add value defensively. On defense in college, he was a mixed bag in terms of effort. Historically, his low playmaking numbers (1.3 steals and 1.0 blocks per 40 minutes) raise concerns for a mid-major first-round pick.

He lacks typical role-playing strengths, specifically three-point shooting, passing IQ (9.3 assist percentage) and rebounding prowess (12.1 total rebounding percentage).

At worst, he’ll come off the bench strictly for his offense inside the arc. 

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Eric Gay/Associated Press

Best-case: Quality/efficient starting center 

Jaxson Hayes comes off as a safe play with 6’11” size, impressive mobility, coordination and tremendous numbers that showcase his offensive efficiency and defensive activity. He shot 72.8 percent from the field and blocked 3.8 shots per 40 minutes.

He’s limited offensively without any bankable scoring skill, which lowers his ceiling. But the 18-year-old’s tools, athleticism, effort and production point to effective rim running, finishing and defense. 

A rim-protecting center such as Clint Capella, who produces strictly by running and jumping, sets the ceiling for Hayes. 

Worst case: Backup center 

Worst case, Hayes struggles against stronger 5s and never develops a post game or jump shot. In that situation, he’ll likely come off the bench but still hold value as a high-energy backup. 

At the very least, Hayes’ finishing will still translate, particularly with better point guard play in the pros. He ranked in the 96th percentile as a cutter and the 95th percentile as a roll man.

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Jeff Roberson/Associated Press

Best case: Star role player

The youngest NCAA prospect expected to be eligible, Talen Horton-Tucker created intrigue with flashes over consistent production. A best-case scenario has those flashes eventually turning into regular occurrences. 

An out-of-the-box guard/wing standing 6’4″, 238 pounds, Horton-Tucker’s heavier frame and lack of explosion aren’t synonymous with upside. He struggled to finish in the paint, making 6-of-20 runners and just 52.5 percent of his attempts around the rim.

But he’s skilled and surprisingly quick enough to create as a shooter and driver. Though he only made 30.8 percent of his threes, he hit plenty of tough jumpers, including a handful from NBA range.

Horton-Tucker also brought it on defense, and given his foot speed, 7’1″ wingspan, toughness and 1.9 steals per 40 minutes, a best-case scenario shows a two-way wing who’s capable of checking boxes and applying pressure at both ends.

Worst case: Reserve wing

He’ll play three NBA seasons before turning 22 years old, so it’s likely he improves enough in that time to crack a rotation. 

But never blowing up will mean Horton-Tucker struggles finishing in traffic without any explosion. And his shooting inconsistency and wild decision-making continue to frustrate. 

In a worst-case scenario, he’s used to bring streaky offense and defensive activity off the bench. 

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Sean Rayford/Associated Press

Best case: Star role player

When evaluating De’Andre Hunter, teams will value his high floor as opposed to his ceiling. The combo forward’s game doesn’t scream upside given his lack of advanced shot-creation and explosiveness. But it does point toward him being a low-risk prospect who could be valuable in a role-player capacity. 

The likelihood of his elite defense (ACC Defensive Player of the Year) carrying over appears high based on his 6’7″, 225-pound size, quickness and awareness. Helping hold projected top-10 pick Jarrett Culver to 5-of-22 shooting in the national title game only strengthened his defensive reputation. 

And after he shot 43.8 percent from three and 78.3 percent from the free-throw line as a sophomore, he’s flashed enough touch to generate confidence in his marksmanship.

Three-point consistency, along with the extent of his off-the-dribble development, will determine the height of his ceiling. Chances are good, however, that Hunter won’t be getting plays called for him late in possessions. Unless he dramatically evolves, he projects as more of a complementary player.

Worst-case: Reserve forward  

Hunter’s floor, which is propped up by shooting and defense, remains his most attractive selling point. He passes the NBA eye test right now, whether his ball skills improve or not. 

He should be able to defend multiple positions as a rookie. At worst, he’s a defensive specialist with enough offensive ability to capitalize on open jumpers and driving lanes. 

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Michael Hickey/Getty Images

Best case: Productive starting shooting guard 

With a textbook physical profile for an NBA 2-guard, Romeo Langford averaged 16.5 points by scoring from all three levels. 

However, he was notably inefficient from beyond the arc (27.2 percent), and maximizing his potential will mean significantly improving his shooting range and mechanics. Then again, Langford did go 16-of-31 on two-point jumpers beyond 17 feet, and he’s shown an ability to create his own shot with pull-ups and step-backs.

Langford was one of the nation’s top pick-and-roll scorers (90th percentile), able to stop and pop before traffic or slice into the paint, where he flashed an impressive runner and layup package (63.6 percent at the rim).

Realistically, Langford lacks the explosion, three-ball, playmaking skills and alpha-dog mentality to present himself as a future All-Star guard. But a best-case scenario could still see him average between 15 and 20 points as a starter.

Worst case: Reserve

Langford’s physical tools, ball-handling, shot-making and finishing instincts should work well enough, at least in a backup capacity. 

Worst case, he settles in as a top option for a team’s second unit. In that scenario, Langford would likely struggle with shooting consistency while adding little as a passer or defender.

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Jessica Hill/Associated Press

Best case: All-Star reserve 

On top of Ja Morant’s record-breaking production as the only player to average at least 20 points and 10 assists, he possesses explosiveness that traditionally hints at NBA upside for a point guard. It will continue leading to free throws and easy scoring chances at the rim.

But his passing is still the skill that will drive his NBA value. Between his ambidexterity, vision and breakdown ability, Morant could be a playmaker who eventually challenges for the league’s assist title. 

The key scouting question focuses on his distance shooting and scoring potential. Given his 34.3 percent clip on jumpers and questionable form, shooting seems unlikely to become a strength anytime soon. But he did make notable progress as a sophomore, averaging 1.9 threes per 40 minutes (up from 1.0) and finishing above 80.0 percent from the free-throw line for the second consecutive season at Murray State.

Worst case: Middle-tier starting point guard

Morant’s playmaking and passing seem guaranteed to carry over, creating a high floor that keeps him valuable at the most competitive position. Regardless of how little his shot improves, his ability to collapse defenses and create shots for teammates will translate. 

A worst-case scenario has the 175-pound ball-handler struggling to finish both at the rim and around the key, where he only went 10-of-32 on runners.

It’s also possible his shooting and decision-making (5.2 turnovers per game) remain inconsistent, creating issues for a ball-dominator who can only play one position. Morant’s lack of strength and effort on defense could likewise become problematic for his team. 

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David Zalubowski/Associated Press

Best case: Productive starting guard/wing

Kevin Porter Jr. averaged just 9.5 points in college, but size, athleticism, youth and advanced scoring skills still point to star-caliber upside long term—similar to what Zach LaVine flashed out of UCLA after he only managed 9.4 points per game in college.

Porter will still enter the NBA near his floor, however. A best-case scenario has him following in LaVine’s steps, gradually building confidence and comfort each season to the point where he’s a lead scorer around age 24.

A 6’6″ guard/wing, Porter has distinguished himself with the ability to create off nifty ball-handling moves and convert tough jumpers. Successful development would mean Porter becomes consistent around the perimeter and he learns to put more pressure on defenses by attacking.

He also must figure out how to play within an offense as opposed to waiting for isolation chances to dance and launch a hero shot.

Compared to LaVine, Porter should have more defensive upside based on his lateral quickness and physical profile.

Worst case: G League

If Porter struggles to assert himself, plays too much one-on-one and has trouble scoring off the ball, coaches may be reluctant to use him.

He only shot 11-of-33 on catch-and-shoot jumpers, and a worst-case scenario includes him never improving as a spot-up shooter. It also has him struggling to efficiently generate his own offense while offering little as a passer. 

Porter has one of the draft’s widest ranges.

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Patrick Semansky/Associated Press

Best case: Quality/productive starting wing

Once he finds some consistency, Cam Reddish figures to have more professional success than he experienced in college. A 6’8″ wing, he buried 2.5 threes per game at Duke, creating enough scouting confidence that he might eventually become a high-volume three-point shooter. 

Though he didn’t receive many chances to create in a lineup featuring Zion Williamson, RJ Barrett and Tre Jones, Reddish, a point-forward in high school, did flash the ability to play off the dribble by generating 1.11 points per possession as a pick-and-roll ball-handler (44 possessions, 96th percentile). 

His defensive potential is another selling point, as Reddish has the tools to guard positions 2-4 and showcases some promising anticipation. 

A 39.4 two-point percentage highlights the severe issues he had executing inside the arc, and it makes realistically projecting All-Star potential difficult. But between his positional size, perimeter game and defense, a best-case scenario still sees Reddish putting up Kelly Oubre Jr.-like numbers near his second NBA contract.

Worst case: Reserve wing

The threes and defensive versatility should keep him afloat, even if he continues to struggle as a scorer in traffic. Reddish made just four of his 14 runners (17th percentile) and 47.3 percent of his shots around the basket (29th percentile).

He also finished the season with 96 turnovers to 70 assists.

Worst case, he’s used to stretch the floor as a spot-up shooter, release in transition, guard the perimeter and nothing more.

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Jamie Squire/Getty Images

Best case: Star role player

PJ Washington made notable improvements as a sophomore that will earn him an invite to the 2019 green room.

He still doesn’t have an All-Star ceiling due to athletic and shot-creation limitations. But a best-case scenario has Washington starting in the league for years to come and giving his team a reliable post option who can stretch the floor and defend positions 3-5.

Washington flashed a balanced attack this season, scoring 45 baskets out of the post, 43 from spot-ups, 29 off cuts, 26 off putbacks, 20 in transition and 12 as a roll man. But other than returning in better shape, the key to his draft-stock spike was going from five made threes in 2017-18 to 33 on 42.3 percent shooting in 2018-19

Worst case: Reserve big

Washington may not be dominant or proficient enough in any of the following areas: athleticism, scoring, shooting, passing and defending.

But at the least, his over-the-shoulder game, touch and physical tools should still translate to points in the paint, rebounds and mid-range jumpers. Worst case, he’s a backup big who’ll take what the defense gives him, whether it’s room to operate in the post or space to take an open jump shot.

Stats courtesy of Synergy Sports, Sports-Reference.com

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Alex Brandon/Associated Press

Best case: All-star starter 

Zion Williamson’s mix of power, foot speed and explosion will create one of the Association’s great advantages.

Even at NBA standards, his first moves and jumps are executed with elite quickness and force. They suggest Williamson’s paint scoring should carry over from Duke, where he racked up more points around the basket than any player in the country, per Synergy Sports. 

He’s also flashed enough ball-handling wiggle to create easy-basket opportunities off his own dribble. Best case, he continues to evolve as a creator from both face-up and back-to-the-basket positions, and he becomes a capable set shooter when left open after he made 24 threes through 33 games with the Blue Devils. 

Realistically, his ceiling falls short of the MVP level at which LeBron James and current/future candidates Giannis Antetokounmpo and Anthony Davis play. A lack of height, length and perimeter skills will make it too challenging for Williamson to be as dominant in the half court. 

All-star starter is a more realistic projection—one any lottery winner should gladly take. 

Worst case: All-star reserve 

Even a worst-case scenario for Williamson should result in at least one All-Star appearance. No defense or scheme will limit his easy-basket chances, particularly in transition or off lobs and putbacks. 

Given his tools, athleticism and motor, he’s still going to eat inside as a low-post threat, finisher and offensive rebounder, regardless of how much his skill develops. 

But his potential impact won’t be as great if his jump shot and one-on-one game don’t continue improving. Williamson does rely more on athleticism and strength for offense. He shot just 2-of-12 on pull-ups and 32.5 percent on half-court jump shots. Can he follow Antetokounmpo by dominating without scoring away from the hoop? Williamson isn’t nearly as tall or long.

Worst case, picture a more commanding and effective Julius Randle who’s also a greater defensive presence. 

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Gerry Broome/Associated Press

Best case: Middle-tier starting point guard 

Ranking in the 97th percentile for pick-and-roll passing and the 94th percentile in spot-up shooting, the 6’5″ Coby White could spend time at both backcourt spots. But can he be an All-Star lead guard?

A lack of athleticism and strength creates problems when White tries to separate and finish around the basket, forcing his perceived ceiling to level off at productive starter. 

He’ll get there by continuing to bury jumpers at a high clip and compensating for limited explosion with skill and improvisation.

White also shows excellent passing vision in transition and off screens. He’s not a traditional facilitator, but he can offer a similar mix of scoring and playmaking as Jamal Murray—another combo who starts at point guard.

Worse case: Reserve guard 

White figures to settle in as a change-of-pace, uptempo bench spark if his athletic limitations hold him back and his defensive struggles continue. 

His ball-handling, shot-making and size create a high enough floor for him to stick if his worst-case scenario plays out. 

B/R

Louis Hedley @LouHedleyy

It’s official!! I’m a cane Thank you to everyone that has helped me get to this point. LETS GOO!! 3⃣0⃣5⃣ #TNM #BEATUF @CanesFootball @ProkickAus @Coach_MannyDiaz @JohnnyPKA @CoachKalter @CoachKalter @67outlaw @CCSFFootball @tweetiebeattie @richiehedley https://t.co/0kQj7a9Uh4

Louis Hedley @LouHedleyy

Wants to punt footballs like his uncle https://t.co/GGo9gIpSDv

Photo courtesy of Louis Hedley

Louis Hedley @LouHedleyy

#94 Lets goooo!! https://t.co/IfVMBisbM9

Seagulls float near the swollen banks of Newhalen River, their high-pitched calls carrying across the water. Rain dampens the feathered tips of the tall grasses that grow along the waterside. A trail for four-wheelers winds down to the river, ending at a clearing where a tall birch tree grows.

Anecia’s breath fogs in the chilly air as she bends over a tote box in the clearing, her maroon sleeves pushed into thick rubber gloves. Her hood is tied tight around her face and a fleece headband keeps her hair out of her eyes. A boat is tied to the bank nearby, and a table for filleting fish is turned upside down in the water. Like many residents of Newhalen, a remote village in the southwestern interior of Alaska, the 65-year-old is spending her summer processing fish.

She holds up a fillet, flips it over from its sleek silver skin to the soft red meat and traces along it with her gloved finger. “I noticed sometimes they have like a pus,” she says, looking up. “It looks fine on the outside, but sometimes, there’s like a pus in the meat. So, you’ve really got to look at it when you cut it.”

She believes this pus is present more often now than it was when she was growing up. Many things feel different now, she reflects – the rain, the river, the salmon, the summer.

Behind her is a cluster of single-storey houses, among them her own and those of her relatives. The village rests at the mouth of Newhalen River, which runs deep and silent in some parts, reflecting the dark green of the spruce trees on its forested banks, and quickens into rapids in others. It feeds into Lake Iliamna, which extends for miles towards craggy mountains in the distance.

Occasionally, a bear wanders out into the river, searching for salmon, and on the lakeshore bald eagles swoop for fish scraps left by working villagers.

Anecia wakes early, works a shift as a cook for a mining company that is doing permitting work in the area, before returning home to begin her day’s work of cleaning and filleting the fish.

The water is unusually high this summer. There is barely any beach left on the shores where residents fillet their salmon, and the winding network of creeks and rivers in the area – the natal streams for the sockeye that swim upriver each year – run quickly.

“The old people say when there’s too much water sometimes the salmon eggs don’t prosper too much because they kind of wash away,” Anecia explains as she waits for the fish to finish brining in salty water. “It’s better if they are kind of shallow and they kind of get embedded underneath the rocks.”

The weather is not the same as when Anecia was growing up. The winters are getting warmer and the ice on the lake melts earlier each year. Last year, the water levels reached the opposite extreme – they were so low that land once submerged sat above water and gravel beaches extended far.

She has noticed fewer salmon than when she was growing up – which is true of her area even though surveys find that the salmon run is productive and healthy overall. She knows that they come and go in cycles, and that there will always be fish.

She recalls a story she heard about the weather changing. “My mother-in-law she is … one of the elderly peoples of the village, she used to tell me that someday the fish probably won’t come but they’ll come in very few which is happening now. Then, she said maybe one of these days we wouldn’t have summer. And I said ‘Why?’ She said that you know, like global warming, where the winter stays a long time in the summer then people will be fishing in through the ice. And I said, ‘Please don’t let that happen. I don’t want to see ice in the summer,’” Anecia shivers. “She said, ‘Even if you don’t want to do, someday, it’ll happen.’ And I said, ‘I hope not.’”

The patter of rain is louder under the tarpaulin that protects the fish rack, where her salmon now hang. The brine and fish slime drip from the fillets as they swing gently in the wind. Over the coming days, they will first feel slick, then tacky, before drying completely.

Father David’s voice lilts gently over the telephone line, with the hint of a cold and an early morning wake-up.

He is in Pilot Station, a remote Alaskan village on the Yukon River, almost 500km from where I am near Newhalen, his year-round residence. He and Mother – a title of respect given to the wife of the priest – are subsistence fishing in their own Native villages.

Sitting on top of a hill overlooking the river, Newhalen’s Russian Orthodox church with its golden cupolas and three-barred crosses is quiet when they are away. The church bell, which rings on Sundays to call residents to worship, is still. Below, villagers subsistence fish, setting out their nets and tending to their smokehouses. Others have travelled for seasonal work elsewhere.

As the season passes and residents return, women will attend services in skirts – sometimes worn over snow pants and shoe packs in the winter – and men in regular clothes. Late-comers will hold a finger over one ear as they pass the ringing bell on their way into the church.

Inside, they will venerate three icons by crossing themselves, kissing the icon and then crossing themselves again before taking their place; women stand on the left, and men on the right.

The woody smell of incense will waft through the room as everyone stands in a respectful silence.

Father David oversees Saturday liturgy services, Sunday communion, holiday services, weddings, and funerals in the church, in which he carved much of the intricate woodwork himself.

His voice remains soft as his sermons address problems in the village or request a change to bad habits with a gentle, “We need to …”.

Russian Orthodoxy has been a part of the state for more than two centuries: Russian trappers began traversing the land in around 1741, and their religion soon followed, with the establishment of the first mission in Alaska in 1794.

Father David thinks that the first church in Newhalen was built much later, sometime in the early 1900s.

Older generations recall one priest who banned traditional Yup’ik dance, which was typically performed at village gatherings and used to tell stories, describe hunting practices, teach survival lessons and perform comedy, among other things.

But these dances have since faded from memory in Newhalen, passing away with the elders who once knew them.

Father David had a different experience in Russian Mission, his home village. “Here in the Yukon, they never took away the culture and dance, but enhanced it,” he says.

He remembers his mother taking him to dance practise, and performances at village carnivals and during the dark winter months. They would only refrain during Lent and certain holidays.

Some missionaries in Alaska would use translators and offer Yup’ik-language Bibles and church services, he explains. “So, instead of having them stop their language, they came and they learned it … and applied it to the Church.”

Father David is fluent in Yup’ik, and taught it when he moved to Newhalen. His two daughters work with another resident to revive Yup’ik dance, asking permission from other villages to adopt their songs. They teach it at schools and in the community, and performances are creeping back into winter festivities.

But the priest remembers how, when he first came to Newhalen, he encountered one resident who didn’t want dance in the village.

“There was an elder lady that told us that it was evil, that it was bad, and I told her that we always had dance and it was part of us,” Father David recalls. “I was thinking that that was their way that they thought before. But we try to let them know that it was OK.”

Smoke billows from Alice’s red smokehouse as she opens the door.

“I should get some of the smoke out of there,” she says, opening screen windows to let the air circulate.

It’s a rainy day in Iliamna, a remote village in southwestern Alaska, and Alice is wearing a muted green jacket and rain boots. But inside the smokehouse, it is hazy and warm.

Salmon fillets hang from wooden racks, their flesh neatly scored. A fire smoulders beneath a tin sheet that prevents it from flaring.

Alice examines the fish through her glasses.

For this batch of salmon, she is doing a “hard smoke,” which means the fish will stay in for 10 to 12 days, oils dripping from them as they turn deep maroon and jerky-like. The process is labour-intensive; if the smokehouse gets too warm the fillets will bake instead of cure, and if the fire goes out the salmon can sour. To regulate the temperature, Alice adjusts the fire cover, adding or removing rocks on holes in the tin sheet. She will have to check it late at night and early in the morning.

Most of the fillets are sockeye salmon, but there is a lone king salmon among them. The species occasionally fights its way upstream to this region, but Alice thinks its meat is too rich and villagers joke that all fish, including trout and other species of salmon, are inferior to sockeye. Iliamna sits on the largest sockeye salmon run in the world, and the fish is central to local culture.

Summertime brings communities together as they process fish to store – in jars, freezers or totes – for the coming year. Families talk and joke as they clean their catch in the sun or hunker down in the cold and rain.

It takes a lot of time and it’s a lot of work to get good fish, you know, to prepare it to eat.

Growing up, Alice’s family would process thousands of fish each summer in order to feed themselves and their dogs. Dog teams – consisting of up to a dozen dogs harnessed to a sled – were used as transport and pack animals. Without running water or motorised vehicles, her father would use them to carry wood or water from the lake. “If we had 10 dogs, we probably needed 1,500 fish,” she says. “I mean, we used everything; the eggs, the fins. There was no wasting there.”

Now the villages have trucks, heating and running water, and Alice has prepared only about 200 salmon this summer.

And while salmon remains a staple part of villagers’ diets – as flying groceries out from the nearest city, 300km away, can double the price of food – Alice believes it is a way of life that is dying out.

“The newer generation nowadays you don’t see too many of them doing fish,” she reflects. “It seems like … they’re just interested in all these store-bought food.”

Households have grown more dependent on groceries, either using air cargo services to fly them from the city of Anchorage or buying them from one of the two stores in the area.

And as a shortage of jobs pushes more young people out of the villages and into cities, many do not develop the skills and knowledge needed to process fish well. A fillet cut too thick will never cure, a brine with too much salt will overpower, a smokehouse left unattended will turn sour.

“They don’t know how to do fish real good,” Alice says. “It takes a lot of time and it’s a lot of work to get good fish, you know, to prepare it to eat.”

She has seen fishing knowledge lessen with each generation; the adults knowing a little less than the elders, the youth knowing less than the adults, and the interest in learning waning.

“Then, it will probably just kind of fade away,” she says.

Alice’s home sits above a small lake where floatplanes take off throughout the day, their drone carrying across the winding creeks and marshy tundra. Inside, cases of jarred salmon sit on a table. Alice plans to send them to her daughter, mother and some friends in other towns.

Her two grandsons are visiting, and the muffled sounds of children playing drifts through the wood-panelled walls.

Her oldest grandson, who is 10 years old, helped clean her fish this summer and both grandchildren love to eat them. But the dozen or so days it takes for the fish to cure in the smokehouse can test their patience and they beg their grandmother to bake the partially smoked fillets.

“They come … in the springtime, after school is out and when they were kids, they remind me of our little puppies running around with fish, running around with fish in their hand, playing and stop every once in a while to eat fish. ‘Grandma, can we have fish?’ ‘Yeah, you can have fish’,” Alice laughs.

She massages her hands. “Yeah, they sure like their fish,” she says.

Alexis strokes the air with her hands, her movements strong and sure.

She is demonstrating traditional Yup’ik dance as her eight-year-old niece, Ava, and baby nephew look on.

They are in the community centre of the remote Alaskan village of Newhalen, where plastic tables and collapsible chairs sit in rows beneath wide windows and an unlit scoreboard awaits the village’s bingo nights.

Ava joins the dancing for a song called the Reindeer Herding Song. Together, aunt and niece stand with their palms open and their fingers flat, their arms shaping the air. They turn and take steps backwards and forwards before pausing, bringing their hands behind their backs, and drawing their heads upwards. Ava keeps watch on Alexis from the corner of her eye to make sure she is following her aunt correctly.

Alexis first tried “yuraq”, or Yup’ik dance, when she was eight years old and a teacher taught some classes at the local school. But it was only in the final year of high school that she began to learn it in earnest.

She hesitates to explain why she was drawn to it. “I don’t really know, it’s just a thing that I like to do sometimes,” she says. “It just makes me happy to do yuraq with the younger kids.”

The songs and dances take their inspiration from aspects of traditional rural life – identifying animals, sharing hunting stories and connecting spiritually among the themes. A seal-hunting song, for example, will demonstrate oaring, looking for a catch and putting up a blind to cover the hunters.

In a full performance, like those at village gatherings, drummers sit behind the dancers, keeping a steady tempo; men kneel in front, holding fans made from bird feathers, while women stand behind holding fans made from grasses and caribou fur.

We barely have any elders around here now so it’s just time for us younger ones … to learn and teach these dances.

Alexis didn’t learn traditional dance from people in her village because there was no one to teach her.

The oldest villagers recall that a Russian Orthodox priest – the first Russian Orthodox mission was established in Alaska in 1794 after Russian fur traders reached the state decades earlier – forbade the practice. While some missionaries absorbed elements of Native culture into the church, others banned Native practices.

It was Alexis’s mother, an elder in the community, who explained that history to her. “It was actually pretty hard to hear,” she says. “It made me … really, really shocked.”

Alexis’s mother attended a federally operated grade school that forced Native children to stop speaking Yup’ik, often punishing them if they did so, and while she still speaks the language, she is one of few in the community to do so.

“The language is gone,” Alexis says shaking her head. “We barely know any words.”

Now 25 years old, Alexis is helping to bring some of that knowledge back. Along with two other women, she requests permission to borrow dances from other Native villages and then teaches them to a dozen or so children, most of them preschool age, at the local school.

As they sing along to the words, the language also starts to come back.

“I learn [Yup’ik] from some of the elders around here but [with] the dances that we do it’s pretty easy for me to just get the language just like that,” Alexis explains.

“We barely have any elders around here now so it’s just time for us younger ones … to learn and teach these dances.”

Soon, she says it will be up to her niece’s and nephew’s generation to keep it up, although she maintains that she only wants that if they do. “It’s up to those kids, not us,” she says. “I just hope that some of the culture will be around still.”

Fifteen-year-old Thomas gently lifts his 10-year-old brother, guiding him away from the front door and towards the living room couch.

“Come, sit down,” he says quietly.

But instead, Darren slips under his brother’s arm and heads towards the kitchen. Thomas lets him go but keeps watch from the couch.

The house is warm and sunlight filters through the peach-coloured curtains as raindrops land on the window panes. Outside, low-lying clouds make the vast landscape feel smaller; they blanket its spruce trees and tall grasses, spongy tundra and miles of mountain.

Thomas is from Newhalen, a remote village of 180 residents in Alaska’s southern interior. A single road runs through town, passing by the community centre – where bingo nights are held and youngsters play basketball, the rows of single-storey houses, the tribal government office, and the local school.

The school gym is a gathering place for the community. Thomas plays basketball there on a court painted in the school’s colours: blue and white. On the walls, a mural depicts the surrounding lake area; travelling across its snowy terrain is a team of malamutes – the school mascot – pulling a sled. Black ravens circle the scoreboard, and silhouettes of athletes are painted at eye-level.

In the colder months, residents sit on blue bleachers to cheer on their children; there are so few students that almost everyone has to compete in order to fill the teams. In the last academic year, the school had 67 students enrolled from pre-Kindergarten to 12th grade.

On the couch, Thomas fidgets with the seam of his jeans before letting his hands settle on his lap. He explains that this past year he wanted to try something new. He left the village for Mt Edgecumbe, a boarding school 1,100km away in the city of Sitka, for ninth grade. But within a month, he says, he knew he wanted to return.

He shakes his head and smiles. “I didn’t like it.”

The school had more than 400 students and Thomas shared a room with five other boys.

“The population in the school itself is bigger than Newhalen,” he explains, fidgeting.

Everything felt cramped, he says.

Most of the students were from rural areas like his, but few knew anything about his village or understood just how quiet and small it was. He played basketball, made friends and enjoyed some of the classes, including culinary arts which he wants to pursue in college, but he didn’t get along with everyone.

“Some of them were obnoxious,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate.

Last summer, his mother had spoken to me in the same room as she’d applied ointment to a wart on Darren’s finger. She is the quiet centre of the home, grounding her two sons with their widely different personalities. Thomas had asked her if he could go to boarding school and she had agreed that it would be good for him. He was into video games and technology, she’d reasoned, and could only find opportunities in those fields elsewhere.

She also thought it would be good to distance him from the care he provides for Darren, who has Down syndrome and requires around-the-clock attention.
“He’s been the biggest help,” she’d said then. “I’ll be scared when he goes. But I don’t want him to stay here watching his brother.”

While the village was good for her and Darren, with a community that felt like family and would help out in any way it could, she wanted something different for Thomas.

“I hope he’ll move on. Just go. I don’t want him living here. I want him to go out and see the world,” she’d reflected.

But when he was feeling particularly homesick at the boarding school, Thomas would think about his mother and brother, who is now curled up on the couch beside him, wearing a faded yellow t-shirt that reads “Born to fish”.

I ask Thomas what it is like growing up in Newhalen.

“It feels normal for me,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

What did he miss about it, I ask?

“Everything,” he says.