When I first started researching the origins of the NBA, I assumed the league's inaugural championship would be a straightforward story. Boy, was I wrong. The journey to crown the first NBA champion—the 1947 Philadelphia Warriors—reveals a fascinating tale of basketball's evolution from a regional sport to a professional spectacle. What struck me most during my research was how different those early days were from today's meticulously planned NBA seasons. The players' experience reminded me of a quote I recently came across from a modern professional athlete describing the grueling nature of their schedule: "It's not like the local tournaments we play where you can stick to a specific seven and then get to rest 4-5 days before the next game. Here, every game you play and we're expected to play with anyone who is put inside the court." This sentiment, though from a contemporary context, perfectly captures the chaotic, unpredictable nature of that first NBA season.
The Basketball Association of America—what we now know as the NBA—kicked off its inaugural season in 1946 with 11 teams, though only 8 would complete the entire schedule. The Philadelphia Warriors, led by player-coach Eddie Gottlieb, navigated a 60-game regular season with a roster that would seem impossibly small by today's standards. They had roughly 10 players on their roster, but in reality, only about 7 saw meaningful minutes throughout the season. Imagine that—just seven guys carrying the load night after night, with none of the specialized rotations or load management we see today. Joe Fulks, their scoring sensation, averaged an astonishing 23.2 points per game when most teams weren't even cracking 70 points total. That would be like someone averaging 50 points in today's game—absolutely mind-boggling.
What I find particularly compelling about that Warriors team is how they embodied the "next man up" philosophy decades before it became a sports cliché. Their championship run through the playoffs saw them defeat the St. Louis Bombers in the first round, then the New York Knicks in the semifinals, before facing the Chicago Stags in the finals. The finals format itself was bizarre by modern standards—a best-of-seven series where the Warriors ultimately won 4-1. But here's what fascinates me: during that final series, injuries and fatigue meant that Coach Gottlieb had to use every available body, sometimes throwing players into positions they hadn't practiced. There was no resting stars or strategic load management—if you could walk, you played.
The financial constraints of that era were equally remarkable. The entire Warriors roster earned approximately $85,000 collectively for the season—less than what a minimum-salary player makes in half a game today. They traveled by train and sometimes played back-to-back nights in different cities without proper recovery time. I can't help but admire their toughness when comparing it to today's NBA, where teams fly on private jets and have entire medical staffs dedicated to player recovery. Yet somehow, these pioneers of professional basketball managed to put on a show that captivated the few thousand fans who attended each game.
Philadelphia's championship-clinching victory came on April 22, 1947, at the Philadelphia Arena before a crowd of about 8,000 spectators. The final score was 83-80—a relatively high-scoring affair for the era. What many don't realize is that the winning share for each Warriors player was approximately $2,000, while the losing Stags players received about $1,400. These figures seem almost comical compared to today's multimillion-dollar playoff bonuses, but they represented significant money at a time when the average American household income was around $3,000 annually.
Looking back at that inaugural championship through a modern lens, I'm struck by how much the game has changed while retaining its core appeal. The 1947 Warriors set a template for future champions—they had a superstar in Fulks, a savvy coach in Gottlieb, and role players who understood their assignments. But more importantly, they established a legacy of resilience that would define the NBA for decades to come. Their journey reminds me that while today's athletes face different challenges—the constant media scrutiny, social media pressures, and year-round training demands—the fundamental requirement of adapting to whatever the game throws at you remains unchanged.
As I reflect on that first NBA championship, I can't help but feel that today's players, despite their superior athleticism and training, would struggle mightily with the conditions those pioneers faced. The inadequate equipment, the relentless travel schedule, the financial uncertainty—it took a special kind of competitor to thrive in that environment. The Philadelphia Warriors of 1947 weren't just the first NBA champions; they were the original iron men who established what it meant to be a professional basketball player. Their historic journey, though often overshadowed by the legends who followed, created the foundation upon which the modern NBA was built, and for that, they deserve to be remembered as true pioneers of the game we love today.