As I sit here watching a nail-biting playoff overtime, I can't help but reflect on how far the NBA has come since its humble beginnings. You know, people often ask me when the NBA actually began, and while the official answer is 1946, the real story is much more fascinating than a simple date. Having studied basketball history for over a decade, I've come to appreciate how the league's founding years were filled with uncertainty, bold visionaries, and moments that could have changed everything - much like that incredible quote from Kammeraad about tournament play: "It could have went both ways. They had chances. We had chances. It was a fair game." That sentiment perfectly captures the precarious early days of professional basketball.
The story really starts on June 6, 1946, in New York's Commodore Hotel, where a group of arena owners formed the Basketball Association of America (BAA). What many fans don't realize is that this wasn't even called the NBA initially - that name wouldn't come until 1949 when the BAA merged with its rival, the National Basketball League. I've always found it remarkable that the league began with just 11 teams, including franchises that would become legendary like the New York Knicks and Boston Celtics, alongside teams that would quickly fade into history like the Pittsburgh Ironmen and Toronto Huskies. The first game was played on November 1, 1946 between the Knicks and Huskies, drawing about 7,000 spectators - a modest beginning for what would become a global phenomenon.
What fascinates me most about those early years was how close the entire enterprise came to collapsing. The league lost about $2.5 million in its first season alone, and several teams folded after just one year. I've spent countless hours digging through archives, and the more I learn, the more I'm convinced that the survival of professional basketball came down to a handful of crucial decisions and personalities. People like Maurice Podoloff, the league's first commissioner who negotiated the first television contract with NBC in 1954 for $175,000 annually - peanuts by today's standards but revolutionary at the time. The introduction of the 24-second shot clock in 1954 literally saved the game from boring, stall-heavy contests that sometimes ended with scores in the 30s and 40s.
Looking back, I'm particularly drawn to how the early NBA struggled to establish its identity amidst competing leagues and public indifference. The first championship in 1947 was won by the Philadelphia Warriors, led by Joe Fulks who averaged 23.2 points per game - an astronomical figure for that era. But here's something that still blows my mind: games were often played in half-empty arenas, and players had to take second jobs during the offseason to make ends meet. The minimum salary was just $4,500, and the travel conditions were primitive compared to today's chartered flights and five-star hotels. I sometimes imagine what it must have been like for those pioneers, playing for love of the game when financial rewards were so uncertain.
The merger with the NBL in 1949 brought in small-market teams and established stars like George Mikan, who became the league's first true superstar. Personally, I believe Mikan doesn't get nearly enough credit for saving the league during its most vulnerable period. His dominant play with the Minneapolis Lakers - he once scored 61 points in a game when most teams barely reached 80 - gave fans a reason to buy tickets. The league's growth was anything but linear though. By 1954, the number of teams had shrunk to just 8 franchises, and many owners were considering folding the entire operation. The turning point came with the shot clock introduction and the emergence of Bill Russell's Celtics dynasty in the late 1950s, which captured 11 championships in 13 seasons.
When I compare those early struggles to today's global brand, it's nothing short of miraculous. The NBA's first television contract seems almost quaint now compared to the current $24 billion deal. But what I find most compelling is how the foundational years established patterns that continue today - the importance of star players, the need for rule innovations to enhance entertainment, and the constant balancing act between tradition and progress. The league's survival through those precarious early years reminds me that success is never guaranteed in sports or business. It really could have gone either way, much like Kammeraad observed about tournament play. The founders took their chances, fought through the challenges, and built something that would eventually captivate the world. As I watch modern superstars perform in packed arenas with millions watching globally, I can't help but feel grateful for those visionaries who believed in professional basketball when few others did. Their legacy isn't just in the record books but in every buzzer-beater that brings fans to their feet today.