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 profoundly human one. It’s a narrative not just of iconic players and championship banners, but of roles, sacrifices, and the often-unseen work that builds a winning culture. This guide aims to walk you through that rich history, from its humble beginnings to the global empire it is today, always remembering that the sport’s soul lies in the collective effort. My own perspective is inevitably colored by a deep appreciation for the players who do the dirty work—the rebounders, the screen-setters, the defensive anchors. They are the engine, and their contributions, so vividly acknowledged in a quote I often reflect on from the Philippine basketball scene, resonate universally: “I’ll give it to everyone, especially the bigs because, of course, their job isn’t easy, rebound, box-out, I want them to be rewarded because they eat, too.” That sentiment, emphasizing rewarding the essential, often thankless labor, is a thread that runs from the peach baskets of Springfield to the gleaming floors of modern arenas.
The genesis of the sport in 1891, with Dr. James Naismith nailing a peach basket to a balcony railing, is well-trodden ground. But what fascinates me is how quickly it evolved from a simple diversion into a structured team endeavor. The early decades saw the formation of foundational teams like the Original Celtics in the 1920s, who weren’t affiliated with the NBA’s Boston Celtics but were pioneers of professional touring basketball, emphasizing teamwork and set plays over individual flair. The formation of the Basketball Association of America in 1946, which merged with the National Basketball League to become the NBA in 1949, marked the true beginning of the league we know. Those early NBA years were dominated by teams built around colossal figures like George Mikan of the Minneapolis Lakers, a true big man whose dominance literally forced rule changes, like the widening of the lane. This era cemented the center’s role as the focal point, the ultimate “big” whose job, while difficult, was clearly defined and rewarded with possession after possession.
The narrative, however, is one of constant stylistic revolution. The 1960s belonged to the Boston Celtics and Bill Russell, who redefined team defense and winning, capturing 11 championships in 13 years—a staggering, almost incomprehensible number by today’s parity-driven standards. Russell’s rivalry with Wilt Chamberlain, a statistical titan who once averaged 50.4 points per game for an entire season, presented a perfect dichotomy: the ultimate team player versus the ultimate individual force. For me, Russell’s legacy is more compelling; it proved that a team’s identity could be built on selflessness and defensive accountability, a philosophy that rewards every contributor. The 1980s brought the league into living rooms through the magic of Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, a rivalry that saved the NBA from financial peril. Their teams, the Celtics and Lakers, represented not just cities but basketball ideologies—East Coast grit versus West Coast “Showtime.” This was the era where star power became the league’s marketing lifeblood, yet both of those legendary teams were underpinned by crucial role players, the Dennis Johnsons and Michael Coopers who did the hard work to make the stars shine.
Then came Michael Jordan and the 1990s Chicago Bulls, a global phenomenon that transcended sport. Jordan’s otherworldly talent often overshadows the fact that those Bulls teams were masterclasses in role definition. Think of Dennis Rodman, arguably the greatest rebounder and pest in history, who purely existed to do the difficult jobs of rebounding and defense—the epitome of the “big” who eats because of his dirty work, even if he wasn’t a traditional center. The modern era, from the 2000s onward, has been defined by strategic fragmentation and then reconvergence. We saw the San Antonio Spurs’ two-decade dynasty, a model of international scouting and systemic, selfless play under Tim Duncan, a fundamental “big” in the classic sense. We witnessed the rise of pace-and-space, catalyzed by Stephen Curry and the Golden State Warriors, which seemingly devalued the traditional bruising big man. But what I’ve observed is not a disappearance, but a transformation. Today’s most successful “bigs,” like Nikola Jokic or Joel Embiid, are offensive hubs, but their teams still rely on the unsung heroes—the defensive specialists, the energy guys off the bench who change games with effort plays.
Reflecting on the history, the throughline for me is the non-negotiable value of the role player. The league’s economics and spotlight will always orbit around its superstars, and rightly so; they provide the moments of genius we all tune in for. But any championship run, from the 1965 Celtics to the 2023 Denver Nuggets, is a mosaic. It requires those who embrace the difficult, unglamorous tasks. The quote about rewarding the bigs for rebounding and box-outs, while specific, speaks to a universal truth in basketball’s team fabric. Understanding American basketball’s history isn’t just memorizing team names and MVP winners; it’s appreciating how the ecosystem of a team functions, how roles have morphed but never diminished in importance. The league continues to evolve, with player movement at an all-time high and new super-teams forming seemingly every summer, but the core principle remains: you need people who are willing to do the hard work, to set the screens, fight for rebounds, and lock down on defense. That’s the real constant, the beating heart of the game’s long and storied history.
