A Complete Guide to the History and Teams of American Basketball
As a lifelong student of the game and someone who has spent years analyzing its evolution from the sidelines, both as a fan and a professional commentator, I find the story of American basketball to be a uniquely compelling tapestry. It’s not just a chronicle of championships and star players, though there are plenty of those; it’s a narrative about identity, community, and the often-unseen mechanics that make the sport tick. To truly understand it, you have to look beyond the highlight reels and into the philosophy of team building itself. This is where a seemingly offhand comment, like the one from a coach I once heard, resonates deeply. He said, “Lahat naman, bibigyan ko, especially sa bigs kasi siyempre, hindi madali yung trabaho nila, rebound, box-out, gusto ko ma-rewardan sila at kumakain din sila.” Translated, it means, “I’ll give it to everyone, especially the big men because, of course, their job isn’t easy—rebound, box-out—I want them rewarded, and they need to eat too.” This pragmatic, almost familial approach to valuing the essential, gritty work is a thread that runs from the sport’s humble beginnings to its modern, billion-dollar franchises.
The history of organized basketball in America is remarkably concise, invented by Dr. James Naismith in 1891 in Springfield, Massachusetts, with a peach basket and 13 simple rules. But its growth was explosive. The first professional leagues emerged in the 1920s, chaotic and regional, but they planted the seed. The true cornerstone, the National Basketball Association (NBA), was formed in 1949 through a merger. Its early era was dominated by gargantuan figures like George Mikan, who literally forced the league to widen the lane, and Bill Russell, whose Boston Celtics dynasty of 11 championships in 13 years from 1957 to 1969 defined team defense and sacrifice. Russell was the ultimate “big man” doing the hard work, the rebounding and shot-blocking that anchored everything. The league then faced a pivotal period in the late 1970s, plagued by drug scandals and low TV ratings, with finals games sometimes broadcast on tape delay. I’ve always been fascinated by this nadir because it makes the subsequent salvation all the more dramatic.
That salvation arrived in the 1980s through the rivalry of Magic Johnson’s Los Angeles Lakers and Larry Bird’s Boston Celtics. They saved the NBA, pushing it into the mainstream with a style that blended showmanship and fierce competition. But it was the arrival of Michael Jordan in 1984 that transformed the league into a global cultural force. The 1990s belonged to him and his Chicago Bulls, a team that perfected the concept of a system built around a singular, unstoppable talent. Yet, even Jordan needed his Dennis Rodman, the relentless rebounder, the embodiment of that coach’s sentiment—the man doing the dirty work so others could shine. The post-Jordan era saw a shift towards big men again, with Shaquille O’Neal’s sheer dominance, before settling into the perimeter-oriented, pace-and-space revolution we see today, pioneered by teams like the Stephen Curry-led Golden State Warriors.
Which brings me to the modern landscape and my personal take on team construction. The NBA today is a league of 30 teams, each with a distinct identity, from the historic legacy of the Lakers and Celtics to the gritty, blue-collar ethos of a franchise like the Memphis Grizzlies. Analytics have changed everything, emphasizing three-pointers and efficiency. But in my view, the core principle highlighted by that coach’s quote remains immutable. Look at the 2021 Milwaukee Bucks championship team. Giannis Antetokounmpo was the superstar, but they don’t win without Brook Lopez’s rim protection and Bobby Portis’s frenetic energy on the glass. These are the guys who “kumakain din sila”—they eat, too, because their contributions, while less glamorous, are caloric fuel for victory. I have a soft spot for teams that understand this balance. The San Antonio Spurs dynasty under Gregg Popovich was the masterclass, a system where the whole was perpetually greater than the sum of its parts, and role players were celebrated.
The future of American basketball, both in the NBA and at the collegiate level where legends are first forged, seems to be leaning even further into positionless play. But I worry sometimes that in chasing algorithmic perfection, we risk undervaluing the specialist, the enforcer, the rebounder. The history of the game is a cycle of styles, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see a resurgence of emphasis on interior dominance, perhaps driven by a new generation of versatile big men. The narrative will continue to evolve, driven by international talent—nearly 25% of NBA rosters are now comprised of players born outside the U.S.—and technological advances. Yet, the heart of the sport, from the first professional teams playing in drafty armories to the stars of today in state-of-the-art arenas, will always beat to the rhythm of teamwork. It’s about recognizing that every piece, from the superstar scoring 30 points to the center setting a bone-jarring screen, has a role. They all need to eat. And understanding that simple, profound truth is the key to appreciating the rich, complex, and utterly captivating history of American basketball.
