If you’re the Hawks, you hope Game 1 was a function of a quick turnaround after a Round 1 series that shouldn’t have been allowed to last six games. You hope that getting outscored 23-15 in the fourth quarter — the 15 being the major issue — can be traced to tired legs. You hope.

But there could be something more at play than fatigue. The thought occurred during Round 1 that sub-.500 Brooklyn nonetheless had an awful lot of players capable of exerting a big-time influence on a big-time game. That shouldn’t have been surprising: Of the Nets’ starting five, four were lottery picks; of the eight who played significant minutes late in the series, five were first-rounders.

And the Hawks? Of the 10 men who comprise their playoff rotation, only Al Horford was a lottery pick. Four — Jeff Teague, DeMarre Carroll and Dennis Schroder being the other three — were drafted in Round 1. (Elton Brand, who has worked four playoff minutes, was the first pick in the 1999 draft. The injured Thabo Sefolosha was a lottery pick.)

I know, I know. There’s no way to see second-rounders Paul Millsap and Kyle Korver and Mike Scott and think, “Those guys don’t belong in the NBA.” They demonstrably do. Millsap and Korver are among the better players at their positions, and Carroll — the one Hawk starter not to grace the All-Star Game — has been the best postseason performer. (We say again: Those 60 regular-season wins didn’t come from nowhere.)

But there’s a difference between being an All-Star and a star. The Hawks became a superior team without superior personnel. When they’re good, it’s because the whole operates so well that the quality of the parts doesn’t register. When the shots don’t fall, all the extra passes in the world don’t matter. When a defense forces the Hawks to fend for themselves, they’re no longer the Hawks.

They were 7-1 against the Nets and the Wizards in the regular season, the Hawks’ starters skipping the one loss. They’re 4-3 against Brooklyn and Washington in the playoffs. Apart from Game 6 in Round 1, they’ve been unable to put away two opponents they’d handled with disdain.

The Hawks aren’t doomed because they lost Game 1 at home. Given that Round 2 tipped off 38 1/2 hours after the Hawks eliminated the Nets in Brooklyn, Game 1 always seemed a prime opportunity for the rested Wizards. But a broader theme is developing: Of the six Wizards who scored in double figures in Game 1, five — Bradley Beal, Paul Pierce, John Wall, Drew Gooden and Otto Porter Jr. — were top 10 draftees. (Granted, Pierce’s draft was last century.)

We around here know that being a lottery pick ensures nothing. (We consult the Williamses, Marvin and Shelden, for verification.) But the bigger talents do tend to be drafted first. The Hawks aren’t nearly untalented — in January, Nets coach Lionel Hollins called them the NBA’s quickest team — but their success has come more through skill and blend than from the capacity to jump higher and push harder.

(Even the 2003-2004 Detroit Pistons, cited as an antecedent to these Hawks, had a slightly different profile: Five of their top eight players were lottery picks; six were first-rounders.)

The Hawks are more a coach’s team than a players’ team, and that’s meaning no disrespect to these players. They’re capable of beating anybody anywhere, but they can’t if the gears don’t mesh. As tiresome as the Lack-A-Superstar leitmotif has become, this part is true: The Hawks don’t have a LeBron James to get baskets by himself.

The simplest way to note that the Hawks’ design has been disrupted is that Carroll has become their leading scorer. It’s not that he’s forcing shots; it’s that he’s getting the best looks. That’s surely by the opponent’s design: If Carroll gets open shots, you’ll take your chances; if Korver does, you’ll lose by 20. (See Game 6 in Brooklyn.)

The Hawks are a really good team, but they’re not so good they can play or shoot poorly and win. They have to click. They won’t beat the Wizards if this becomes a test of talent. They have to wrong-foot the opposition. In Round 2, they’re the ones off on the wrong foot.