Okay, let's unpack this. We are diving into something
today that is quite literally the peak of the
mountain. The air is thinner up here, the pressure
is higher, and the history is, well, it's heavy.
We are talking about the NBA Finals. The big
one. The series that defines legacies. It's where
ghosts are made and where immortality is earned.
Exactly. And I know what you're thinking. Yeah.
I know the finals, seven games, shiny trophy,
confetti cannons. But we are going to go so much
deeper than that. Oh, yeah. Because we were recording
this in February 2026. We've just passed the
All -Star break. We are steering down the barrel
of another postseason. And I think it is the
perfect moment to just, you know, pause, take
a breath and look backward. For sure. Because
the landscape of this league has shifted so violently
in the last few years that if you blinked, you
might have missed the revolution. I mean, we
are living in a world where the Oklahoma City
Thunder are the defending champions. It really
does feel like a completely new timeline, doesn't
it? That 2025 championship run by the Thunder,
winning their second title as a franchise, but
the first since moving to Oklahoma City, it felt
like the final nail in the coffin of the old
NBA. It sort of capped off this incredible, chaotic
run of parody we've been seeing. It did. And
that is really our mission for this deep dive.
We have a massive stack of history here, breakdowns
of specific series, records, financial data,
and some great narrative deep dives from the
archives. Right. We want to explore the history
of the finals, not just as a list of team A beat
team B, but as a study in eras. Because when
you actually look at the data, the history of
the NBA finals reads like a geology textbook.
I love that comparison. Geology is perfect because
it's all about pressure and time. Right. You
have these long, stable periods, the mountains.
These are the dynasties that felt totally immovable.
The Celtics, the Bulls, the early 2000s Lakers.
And then. Without warning, you have these earthquakes,
these sudden chaotic periods of parity where
the ground shifts under everyone's feet. Yeah.
And you have no idea who is left standing. That
is so accurate. And usually when you dig into
why the earthquake happened, why the dynasty
fell or why the chaos started, it tells you more
about the health of the sport, the economics
of the league and like the evolution of the game
than the box scores ever could. Exactly. The
chaos is where the innovation happens. So let's
set the base camp before we start the climb.
When we talk about the finals, what are the actual
stakes beyond, you know, the rings? At its core,
strictly by the rulebook, it's a best of seven
series between the Eastern Conference champion
and the Western Conference champion. The winner
gets the Larry O 'Brien championship trophy.
The Larry O 'Brien. But I think people forget,
or maybe never knew, that the trophy itself has
a bit of an identity crisis in its history. Right.
I saw in the notes it used to be the Walter Ray
Brown trophy. It was. Walter Brown was the owner
of the Boston Celtics and just a massive figure
in the league's founding. They kept his name
on the trophy until 1984. Why, that late? Yeah.
But the actual design we know today, the gold
ball teetering over the net, which is actually
a really beautiful piece of art designed by Tiffany
& Co., that came in 1977. Before that, the trophy
looked very different, much more traditional.
It's iconic now, though. You see that silhouette
and you know exactly what it means. For sure.
But what I found more interesting than the hardware
was the format of the series itself. Because
as a fan today, sitting here in 2026, you just
assume it's always been 2 -2 -1 -1 -1. Right.
The higher seed gets two at home, then you go
away for two, then you alternate one game at
a time. It seems fair. It seems logical. It is
the fairest way to do it. But the NBA is a business,
and it is a travel -heavy business. You have
to remember, for a huge chunk of modern history,
from 1985 all the way to 2013, the league used
a 2 -3 -2 format. I remember this vividly from
watching old tapes. The middle three, it always
felt so weird. Right. The higher seed plays two
at home, and then the lower seed, the road team,
gets three straight games in their building.
Why? Just to cut down on travel? Yeah, the league
did it to cut down on cross -country flights.
Imagine Celtics versus Lakers in 1985. We aren't
talking about private jets with live flat beds
and caterers like today. No, this is commercial
flights, middle seats. Exactly. Flying commercial
or early charter planes back and forth from Boston
to L .A. four times in 10 days is just brutal
on the body. But competitively, that 2 -3 -2
format is, I mean, it feels like a trap. It was
a massive psychological trap. Think about it
from the perspective of the road team, the underdog.
If you can steal one of those first two games
on the road. Then you go home for three straight.
Three games in a row. Exactly. You suddenly have
a chance to win the title games three, four,
and five without ever getting back on a plane.
It shifted the momentum so drastically toward
the middle of the series. The pressure on game
two for the home team must have been immense.
It was everything. There was a feeling that if
the home team didn't sweep the first two, they
were in big trouble. It really put a huge amount
of pressure on that second game. Kind of defeats
the purpose of earning home court advantage during
the regular season, right? You play 82 games
to get the advantage, and the format just hands
the momentum to the other guys. Precisely. It
felt like, congratulations on winning 60 games.
Now go survive a week in a hostile city without
coming home. That's why they went back to the
2 -2 -1 -1 -1 format in 2014. It just rewards
the higher seed more. Consistently. It's a fair
fight. A much fairer fight. If it goes to a game
seven, you are at home, but you also break up
that momentum in the middle. Okay, so we know
the rules. We know the format. We know the prize.
Let's wind the clock back. We are going to the
bedrock. The 1940s and 50s. The early giants.
Got it. And I have to be honest, looking at the
source material, my brain still refuses to accept
the geography of this era. The Los Angeles Lakers,
the glitz, the glamour, Jack Nicholson, the showtime
started out in Minnesota. It is the great irony
of the NBA branding, isn't it? The Lakers name
makes zero sense in Los Angeles. None. There
are no lakes in downtown L .A. It refers to the
land of 10 ,000 lakes. But yes, the Minneapolis
Lakers were the first true dynasty. And they
weren't just winning. They were dominating five
of the first 10 titles in league history. That's
that's incredible. They were the benchmark. And
it was all driven by one man, George Mikan. We
need to pause on Mikan because I don't think
modern fans understand what he was. He wasn't
just tall. He was like a glitch in the system.
How do you mean? What does that mean, a glitch?
Well, before Mikan, basketball was viewed as
a sport for average -sized, agile men. If you
were 6 '10", people thought you'd be too clumsy
to play or that you were a sideshow act. Right.
Mikan was 6 '10", but he had soft hands, incredible
coordination, and a hook shot that was just unstoppable.
He literally forced the league to change the
rules. Oh, wow. They widened the lane, the paint
from 6 feet to 12 feet, just to push him further
away from the basket. It was called the Mikan
rule. So he was basically the shack. Effectively,
yes. He was the first player who made the league
realize, oh, being giant is actually a massive
advantage. And that Lakers team, they secured
the first three -peat from 1952 to 1954. They
established the template, get a dominant big
man, control the paint, win rings. But as dominant
as Mikan was, his dynasty feels almost like a
prologue compared to what came next. We have
to talk about the Boston Celtics. The Russell
era. The unbreakable dynasty. It's not even an
exaggeration. I was looking at the numbers here
and I had to double check them to make sure there
wasn't a typo. Between 1956 and 1969, the Boston
Celtics won 11 titles in 13 seasons. It just
sounds like fan fiction. It doesn't sound real.
It's a video game stat. And that includes eight
straight championships from 1959 to 1966. Eight
straight in a professional league. It is a record
that I feel very comfortable saying will never,
ever be broken. Mathematically, financially,
competitively. It is impossible now. So what
was it? What was the perfect storm? Well, you
had Red Auerbach, a genius coach and executive
who was light years ahead of everyone else on
scouting and roster construction. And you had
Bill Russell. This era really birthed the primary
narrative of the NBA, didn't it? The whole concept
of the team versus the individual. Because on
one side, you have Russell, whose stats weren't
eye -popping. He never averaged 20 points a game,
but he won. And on the other side, you had Wilt
Chamberlain. The Goliath. The individual. Wilt
was putting up numbers that are just alien. Averaging
50 points a season. Scoring 100 in a game. Rebounding
numbers that looks like typos. So why didn't
he win like Russell? Because Russell. Russell
had the psychological edge. The Celtics played
as a cohesive unit. Russell understood that his
job wasn't to score. It was to erase the other
team's offense. He invented the blocked shot
as a weapon of intimidation. He didn't just block
it out of bounds. He would tip it to his teammate
to start the fast break. So Wilt was playing
a video game on rookie mode, and Russell was
playing chess. That's a great way to put it.
And nowhere is that clearer than in the 1969
finals. This is one of my favorite stories in
the entire file. You got to hear about the balloon
game. Oh, this is cinema. Let's set the scene
for the listener because the context here is
everything. OK, so it's 1969. The Celtics dynasty
is on its last legs. They are ancient in basketball
years. Bill Russell is old. His knees hurt. And
he is actually the player coach at this point,
which is just insane to think about. He's coaching
himself. Coaching the team during timeouts while
grabbing 20 rebounds, it's wild. And they finish
fourth in the East. Nobody expects them to win.
Meanwhile, the Lakers have finally assembled
a super team. They have Jerry West, they have
Elgin Baylor, and they actually traded for Will
Chamberlain. Yeah. They have the star power.
They have the narrative. This is their year.
Right. And the series goes seven games, a total
war. Game seven is in Los Angeles at the Forum.
And the Lakers owner, a guy named Jack Kent Cook,
looks at his roster, looks at the old tired Celtics,
and he thinks, it's over. We won. He was a little
too confident, wasn't he? He was incredibly arrogant.
He had thousands of balloons suspended in the
rafters of the arena in a net. Oh, yeah. The
plan was, the second the game ends, the balloons
drop, the USC marching band plays Happy Days
Are Here Again, and the champagne flows. He even
had victory schedules printed out for the parade.
I can only imagine how Bill Russell reacted to
seeing balloons in the rafters before the game
even started. Well, the story goes that Russell
saw the net up there during warm -ups and told
his team, those balloons are staying up there.
Oh, he used it. He weaponized their arrogance.
He told the Celtics, they think you're done.
They think you're a stepping stone. The disrespect
was the fuel. And the game itself. It was a disaster
for L .A. The Celtics came out running. They
just caught the Lakers sleeping. And there was
this one critical moment where Don Nelson, who
later became a famous coach, took a shot near
the free throw line. I think I've seen this clip.
It hits the back rim, bounces like five feet
straight up in the air, and drops straight through.
A total, complete lucky bounce. The basketball
gods were wearing green that day. They were.
The Celtics won 108 -106. In the forum. In game
seven. Abloons. They never dropped. The Lakers
eventually had to donate them to a children's
hospital or something. It was the ultimate embarrassment.
And Russell. He retired immediately after that
game. He walked off the court with his 11th ring,
having ruined the Lakers party, and just vanished
into the sunset. Talk about a mic drop. That
is the ultimate exit. Yeah. So Russell leaves.
And the league sort of exhales. The mountain
has crumbled. And we enter the 1970s. And looking
at this list of champions, it looks like a lottery.
The 1970s is known as the decade of parody. But
honestly, chaos might be a better word for it.
You had 10 different teams reach the finals in
the 70s. Eight different franchises won the title.
Eight champions in 10 years. That is just wild
compared to what we just saw. It was a power
vacuum. The Celtics were rebuilding. The Lakers
were aging out. So suddenly the door was wide
open. You had the Knicks winning in 70 and 73
with their smart team first ball. You had the
Bucs winning instantly with a young Kareem Abdul
-Jabbar. The Warriors, the Blazers, the Bullets.
The Supersonics. It was anyone's game. And you
had the Sunderella Suns. I love that nickname.
1976. This is the peak of 70s chaos. The Phoenix
Suns were a .500 team. They had a losing record
halfway through the season. They finished 42
-40. They barely even made the playoffs. They
got hot at the right time. They meet the Celtics
in the finals. And that series gave us what many
historians still call the greatest game ever
played. Game 5, 1976. Triple overtime. The Boston
Garden. It was pure mayhem. The fans were so
rowdy they were storming the court thinking the
game was over when there was still one second
left on the clock. That sounds dangerous. It
was. Players were fighting fans. The Suns hit
a miracle shot to force the third overtime guard
heard the shot heard around the world. It was
just a mess. It sounds like a bar fight that
broke out in the middle of a basketball game.
It kind of was. The Celtics eventually won 128
-126 but it just showed how competitive the league
had become. There were no beatable Giants anymore.
We also can't skip the iconic moment of 1970,
Willis Reed. The definition of grit. The absolute
definition. This is the Knicks versus the Lakers.
Game 7, Madison Square Garden, Willis Reed, the
Knicks captain and MVP, tears a muscle in his
thigh in Game 5. He doesn't play Game 6. Everyone
assumes he is out. I mean... He can barely walk.
Right. And the Lakers are terrifying. They have
Wilt. They have Jerry West. The Knicks look demoralized
without their leader. And then just before tip
-off, Reed limps out of the tunnel. The crowd
reaction on the take is just... It's spine -tangling.
It's not a cheer. It's a roar. It was nuclear.
And he couldn't really run. He was visibly dragging
his leg. He hit his first two shots, these little
jump shots from the top of the key, and didn't
score again. He finished with four points, but
it didn't matter. It spooked the Lakers, didn't
it? It absolutely terrified them. They saw this
man willing to play on one leg, and the Knicks
just fed off that energy. They played like men
possessed. They blew the Lakers out. It's a reminder
that the finals isn't just about skill or tactics.
It's about narrative and emotion. But here's
the thing about the 70s. As exciting as the parody
was, the league was hurting. I mean, financially,
ratings were down. There was a drug problem in
the league. They needed a spark. They needed
a rivalry. And they got the best one in the history
of sports. The 1980s Magic vs. Bird. The Golden
Age. This is where the modern NBA really begins.
The TV deals, the global fame. Absolutely. You
had the two most storied franchises, the Lakers
and the Celtics, revitalized by two rookies who
hated losing more than they liked breathing.
They met in the finals three times, 1984, 1985,
and 1987. It was appointment viewing for the
entire country. But the moment that launched
the decade happened right at the start, Magic
Johnson's rookie season, 1980. This is the story
I tell people when they ask why Magic is considered
a top five player ever. So it's the 1980 finals,
Lakers versus Sixers. The Lakers are up 3 -2.
But in game five, Kareem Abdul -Jabbar, the league
MVP, the unstoppable force, severely sprains
his ankle. He's out. He doesn't even travel to
Philadelphia for game six. So you are going into
a closeout game on the road against Dr. J and
the Sixers without your center, without your
best player. And Magic Johnson, a 20 -year -old
rookie point guard. Gets on the team plane. He
sees everyone looking depressed, dejected. He
goes and sits in Kareem's seat, which was reserved,
and tells the team, never fear. Magic is here.
The audacity. Just the pure confidence of that.
And then the game starts. The coaches decide
to start Magic at center. A point guard jumping
center in the NBA Finals. Yes. And he didn't
just stand there. He played every single position.
He posted up. He ran the break. He rebounded.
He finished with 42 points, 15 rebounds and seven
assists. They won the title and he became the
first and still only rookie to win finals MVP.
It makes no sense. It's like a quarterback playing
linebacker in the Super Bowl and getting a pick
six. It's impossible. It set the tone for the
Showtime Lakers. Fast, flashy, unbeatable. But
the Celtics, they punched back. The 1984 finals
was an absolute war. That was the heat game,
right? Game five in Boston. The old Boston Garden
had no air conditioning. It was a heat wave in
June. It was reported to be 97 degrees inside
the arena. That sounds legitimately dangerous.
It was. The Lakers, who were used to that cool
L .A. climate, were just wilting. They were using
oxygen tanks on the sidelines. Kareem was gasping
for air. The Celtics, who practiced in that humidity
and knew how to handle it. They just ground them
down. They weaponized the heat. They did. They
won the game and eventually the series. It wasn't
just pretty passing in the 80s, though. By the
end of the decade, a new force emerged. A team
that looked at Showtime and decided to punch
it in the mouth. The Detroit Pistons. The bad
boys. They are the villains of the story, but
they were necessary villains. They ended the
Celtics era, and then they ended the Lakers era.
They swept the Lakers in 1989. A clean sweep.
Four, no. They were physical, they were mean,
and they were defensive masterminds. Chuck Daly,
their coach, built a system based on pure intimidation.
They proved that you didn't need a generational
scorer like Bird or Magic if you had five guys
who were willing to protect the paint with their
lives. But their reign was short. They were kind
of the bridge, weren't they? A very important
bridge. Because something was rising in Chicago.
The 1990s. The Jordan Standard. Michael Jordan.
The Chicago Bulls. We have to unpack this because
it feels like two different movies. You have
the first three -peat from 91 to 93, and the
second three -peat from 96 to 98. Correct. And
the team around Jordan changed quite a bit, but
the inevitability didn't. That's the key word
for the 90s, inevitability. Let's start with
1991, Bulls versus Lakers. This was the passing
of the torch. Literally. You had Magic Johnson,
the king of the 80s, versus Jordan, the challenger.
The Lakers actually won game one in Chicago.
A lot of people forget that. Oh, wow. There was
a moment of panic. Is Jordan a ball hog? Can
he win? Is Magic too smart for him? But then
Phil Jackson made the adjustment. He put Stoddy
Pippen on Magic Johnson. This is why Pippen is
so crucial to the legend. He was long, fast,
and relentless. He picked Magic up full court.
It completely disrupted the entire Lakers offense.
And that freed up Jordan. It freed up Jordan
to just score in Rome and be the killer he was.
The Bulls swept the next four games. And then
they just kept winning. 1992 against the Blazers.
1993 against the Suns. That 93 series. I mean,
Jordan averaged 41 points per game. 41 points
on the biggest stage. He dropped 55 in game four.
He was just... Untouchable. But the series actually
ended with a pass. It did. Game six. The Bulls
are down. Final seconds. The Suns' defense collapses
on Jordan, because why wouldn't you? He drives,
kicks it to Horace Grant, who makes one more
pass to John Paxson. The sharpshooter. Bang.
Three -pointer. Bulls win. Three -peat secured.
It was perfect team basketball to cap off a run
of individual dominance. And then the intermission.
Jordan retires. He goes to play baseball. And
I feel like in the documentary of history, we
just fast -forward this part. But we shouldn't,
because Hakeem Olajuwon was incredible. The Houston
Rockets, we have to give them their credit. While
Jordan was gone, Hakeem was the best player on
earth, period. In 1994, he won the MVP, the Defensive
Player of the Year, and the Finals MVP. The Triple
Crown. Nobody else has ever done that in a single
season. The Rockets went back -to -back. Hakeem
dominated Patrick Ewing, then he dominated a
young Shaq. It proved that a dominant, skilled
center could still own the league. But then the
facts came through. I'm back. He's back. Jordan
returns. And the 1996 team, 72 wins and 10 losses.
The greatest regular season team of that era.
They were angry. They had lost in the playoffs
the year before after Jordan came back late.
They wanted to destroy everyone. They meet the
Seattle Supersonics in the finals. Gary Payton
and Sean Kemp. The glove and the rain man. A
great team. But the Bulls went up 3 -0 instantly.
It looked like a mismatch. But then George Carl,
the Sonics coach, finally made the adjustment
everyone was waiting for. He put Gary Payton
on Jordan. And it worked. It worked better than
anyone expected. Payton was physical. He harassed
Jordan. The Sonics actually won Game 4 and Game
5. It was a little too little, too late to save
the series. But it showed that even Jordan was
human if you had the right defender. But the
Bulls closed it out. And then the final two against
the Utah Jazz, 1997 and 1998. The last dance.
The Jazz were so tough. Karl Malone and John
Stockton ran that take and roll to perfection
for years, but Jordan, he just had a sense for
the moment. 1998, game six. This is the moment
everyone knows. The Bulls are down by one, less
than a minute left. Jordan steals the ball from
Karl Malone in the post -perfect timing, just
strips him clean. He brings the ball up, no timeout.
He wants the isolation. He drives right on Brian
Russell. He pushes off just a little bit, creates
the space, pulls up. The pose. The follow through.
Wish. It was the perfect ending. Six finals appearances.
Six rings. And here's the stat that always blows
my mind. The Chicago Bulls never played a game
seven in the finals. You never even let it get
to the edge. Not once. That is dominance. That
is the standard. So Jordan walks away for good
this time. The dynasty dissolves. And we enter
the 2000s. And the geology shifts again. The
power moves west. Drastically. From 1999 to 2014,
the West was a war zone. Specifically, the Los
Angeles Lakers and the San Antonio Spurs. They
combined for nine titles in that stretch. Let's
start with the Lakers. The Shaq and Kobe era.
The most dominant duo in history. I don't think
that's an exaggeration. You had Shaq, whose just
physically unguardable teams were signing backup
centers just to have six extra fouls to use on
him. Hack a Shaq became a strategy. And you had
Kobe. And you had Kobe, who was evolving into
the most skilled perimeter player since Jordan.
A carbon copy in a lot of ways. That 2001 run.
15 -1 in the playoffs. It was a joke. They swept
the Blazers, swept the Kings, swept the Spurs.
They lost game one of the finals to Allen Iverson,
the famous step over game, and then woke up and
just crutched the Sixers. It was total destruction.
But the Spurs, they were the antidote. They were
the anti -showtime. The Spurs way. Nim Duncan
and Greg Popovich. They weren't flashy. They
didn't have the celebrity drama of Shaq and Kobe.
But they were just perfect. They won in 99 -03
-05 -07. Can we talk about Tim Duncan in 2003?
Because that's a performance that gets lost to
history. Please. Game 6 against the Nets. Duncan
puts up a stat line that just looks like a typo.
21 points, 20 rebounds, 10 assists, and 8 blocks.
Two blocks away from a quadruple double. In a
finals clincher. It is arguably the greatest
individual performance in Finals history, and
nobody talks about it because Duncan didn't pound
his chest or scream at the camera. He just banked
it in and ran back on defense. But even Giants
fall. Okay. And the Shaq -Kobe era ended in a
very weird way. 2004. The Superteen failure.
The Lakers add Karl Malone and Gary Payton. They
have four Hall of Famers. Everyone assumes they
will walk to the title. And they run into the
Detroit Pistons. Again. The going -to -work Pistons.
No superstars, no MVPs, just a perfectly constructed
team. Chauncey Billups, Rip Hamilton, Ben Wallace,
Rasheed Wallace. They just dismantled the Lakers.
In five games. Beat them in five games. It proved
that chemistry beats talent if the talent hates
each other. And that series ended the Shakobi
marriage. Shaq was traded. And that opened the
door for the next king, LeBron James. The 2010s
are the LeBron era. It's that simple. Even when
he didn't win, he was there. Eight straight finals
appearances between Miami and Cleveland. Just
think about the physical toll of playing into
June eight years in a row. The Miami Heat era
gave us maybe the most thrilling finals moments.
2013 against the Spurs. Game six. The Spurs are
up 3 -2 in the series. They are up by five points
with 28 seconds left. The league officials were
literally bringing the yellow tape out to rope
off the court for the trophy presentation. The
fans were leaving the building. They thought
it was over. And then... Chaos. LeBron misses
a three. Chris Bosh grabs the offensive rebound
of his life. He sees Ray Allen backpedaling to
the corner. Rebound Bosh. Back out to Allen.
His three -pointer. Bang. Tie game. The Heat
win in overtime. They win game seven. broke the
Spurs hearts. It was absolute theft. But the
Spurs came back the next year and played the
beautiful game. 2014, that was basketball perfection.
The passing was just dizzying. They ran the heat
off the floor. It was total redemption. And then
LeBron goes home, Cleveland, and we get the quartet.
The Cavs versus the Golden State Warriors. Four
years in a row. We had never seen two teams meet
four times straight. It was like Ollie versus
Frazier, but every single year. And 2016. That
has to be the crown jewel of the decade. Without
a doubt. The Warriors had won 73 games, breaking
the Bulls record. They were up 3 -1 in the finals.
No team had ever come back from down 3 -1 in
the finals. It was over. And then the sequence
in Game 7. The block. It's a tie game. Minutes
to go. Andre Iguodala goes up for a layup on
a fast break. It looks like an easy two. LeBron
sprints from half court. Block by James. It's
an iconic call. He pins it against the backboard.
Then Kyrie Irving hits the three over Steph Curry.
Cleveland wins its first title in 52 years. It
was a movie. But the Warriors didn't stay down.
They went nuclear. They added Kevin Durant. And
that changed the math. The 2017 and 2018 Warriors
with KD were arguably the most talented team
ever assembled. Steph, Klay, Draymond, and KD.
It just wasn't a fair fight. They went 16 -1
in the 2017 playoffs. It felt like that dynasty
would last a decade. But dynasties are fragile.
Injuries, egos. contracts. And that brings us
to the era we are currently living in, or maybe
just emerging from, the second decade of parity.
This is the part that is so striking when you
look at the list. Starting in 2019, the NBA had
like a nervous breakdown. We had seven different
champions in seven years. It's an unprecedented
run of chaos. Let's run through the list because
looking back from 2026, it is a crazy sequence
of events. Go for it. 2019, Toronto Raptors,
Kawhi Leonard takes down the Warriors. 2020,
the bubble, Lakers win. LeBron's fourth ring.
Very strange year. 2021. Milwaukee Bucks. Giannis
drops 50 in the closeout game. 2022, the Warriors
have a last dance. Steph Curry finally gets his
finals MVP. 2023, Denver Nuggets, Jokic just
dominates. And 2024, the Boston Celtics. Jalen
Brown and Jason Tatum finally get over the hump.
That was a huge moment. Their 18th title, breaking
the tie with the Lakers. A huge deal in Boston.
And then most recently, last year, 2025, the
Oklahoma City Thunder. The culmination of the
process, 2 .0. The Thunder beat the Indiana Pacers
in seven games. That series was electric. It
was just so fast. You had Tyrese Halliburton
and Pascal Siakam for the Pacers running and
gunning. And you had Shai Gilgis -Alexander and
that young Thunder Corps just swarming everyone.
And Shai was incredible. But think about it.
Seven years, seven different teams raising the
trophy. We haven't seen a repeat winner since
the Warriors in 2018. It's nuts. Why is this
happening? Why can't anyone hold on to the trophy
anymore? It is the second apron. That's the short
answer. The salary cap rules. Exactly. The new
collective bargaining agreements put in these
massive, massive penalties for spending too much
money. It makes it almost impossible to keep
three superstars together for more than a few
years. You have to trade guys. You have to let
guys walk. It basically forces parity. But the
talent pool is just deeper than ever, right?
Oh, absolutely. Just look at the names we mentioned.
Kawhi, LeBron, Giannis, Steph, Jokic, Tatum,
Shai. The best players are coming from everywhere.
Serbia, Greece, Canada, all over the world. The
gap between the best team and the fifth best
team is razor thin now. So the dynasty model
is broken. Is that what we're saying? It is certainly
on life support. To win back -to -back now, you
need a perfect health, perfect drafting, and
incredible management of your role players. It's
so hard. Before we wrap up, I want to pivot to
the dark side of the moon. The heartbreak. Because
you can't have a winner without a loser. And
nobody, I mean nobody, lost more than Jerry West.
The Buffalo Bills of the NBA. You just have to
feel for him. Jerry West. The logo. The actual
silhouette on the NBA branding. He went to the
finals nine times as a player. He lost eight
times. Eight losses. That crushes a soul. It
tortured him. In 1969, the balloon game we talked
about, he was actually named finals MVP. He is
the only player in history to win MVP from the
losing team. I can't imagine he keeps that trophy
on the mantelpiece. No. He probably wanted to
throw it through a window. He said he was disgusted
by it. And Elgin Baylor. Even more tragic, in
a way. He played his whole career for the Lakers,
lost in the final seven times. In the 1971 -72
season, his knees were just shot. He retired
nine games into the season. And let me guess.
The Lakers immediately went on a 33 -game winning
streak, still a record, and won the title that
year. He missed the ring by a few months. That
is physically painful to hear. What about the
teams that have never even been to the party?
It is a shrinking list. But as of right now,
in 2026, The Clippers, Timberwolves, Hornets,
Grizzlies, and Pelicans have never reached the
finals. The Timberwolves made the conference
finals in 2024 and 2025, but fell short both
times. It just shows how hard it is. You can
be good for a decade and never even get to the
final stage. Let's hit some active records before
we go. We mentioned LeBron. He is second all
-time in finals points behind Jerry West. But
he also holds the record for most turnovers in
finals history. Which makes sense, though, if
you have the ball that much for that many years.
It is a usage stat. It's a badge of honor in
a way. You can't turn the ball over in June if
you were on vacation in Cancun. Fair point. And
then Steph Curry. The three -point record. 152
made threes in the finals. That's a lot. And
nobody is even close. That record is going to
stand for a very, very long time. So we have
covered the history. We have seen the Lakers
and Celtics dominate, the Bulls fly, the Spurs
execute, and the recent chaos of parity. Yeah.
Here is where it gets really interesting for
me. We're sitting here in 2026. The Thunder.
are the champs. They are young. They have draft
picks. They have a superstar in shy who is in
his prime. Are we looking at the end of the parody
era? That is the billion dollar question, isn't
it? The Thunder are built differently. They didn't
buy a super team. They grew it. They have the
cap space and the assets to keep this core together.
In theory, they could be the next Spurs or Warriors.
There's always a but. But we said that about
the Bucs in 2021. Giannis is young. They will
win three or four. We said that about the Nuggets
in 2023. Jokic is unstoppable. And both of them
faced injuries, roster crunches, and early playoff
exits. It feels like the margin for error is
non -existent now. It is. In the 90s, the Bulls
were significantly better than everyone else
today. One rolled ankle in the second round,
one cold shooting night in a Game 7, and you
go home. So as a basketball fan, do you prefer
the dynasties or the chaos? Oh, that's tough.
I mean, there is something romantic about a dynasty,
a villain to root against, a hero to chase. It
creates a clear narrative. Right. But the chaos.
Knowing that when the playoffs start in April,
truly anyone, the one seed or the six seed could
win. That is so exciting. It keeps every fan
base engaged because hope is a powerful drug.
I think I agree. Although. If I'm a fan of the
Hornets or Pelicans, I'd take a little dynasty
right about now. Fair point. A very fair point.
So here is my final thought for you to chew on.
We talked about how the game has evolved from
Mikan's post play to Curry's three pointers with
the Thunder winning with a team of guys who are
all like six foot six long arms can handle the
ball. Are we entering a finals era where positions
truly don't exist anymore? Are we done with the
point guard versus center narratives and moving
into skill versus skill? That's a fascinating
thought. If you look at the last few finals MVPs,
Jalen Brown, Nikola Jokic, Steph Curry, Giannis,
they play the game in completely different ways.
There is no prototype anymore. The only requirement
is high skill and high IQ. And maybe that is
why it is so hard to repeat. Because every year,
the puzzle you have to solve is completely different.
Exactly. The test changes every year. You can't
use last year's answers. Well, we will see what
the 2026 finals bring us in a few months. Maybe
the Thunder repeat. Maybe we get an eighth new
champion. Either way, we will be watching. Thanks
for taking this deep dive into history with us.
Always a pleasure. See you next time.