Reliving the 1947 NBA Championship: Key Moments and Untold Stories

I still remember the first time I saw the faded photograph of the 1947 Philadelphia Warriors championship team - their uniforms looked more like something you'd wear to a factory job than an NBA game, which frankly makes sense since the league was barely holding on back then. The 1947 NBA Championship represents more than just the first title in league history; it's a time capsule of basketball's raw, unpolished early days when players traveled by train and nobody dreamed of million-dollar contracts. Having studied basketball history for over fifteen years, I've come to appreciate how these foundational moments shaped everything that followed, even as modern sports like volleyball evolve in their own right - just last week I read that six teams have already qualified for the Round of 16 in the 2025 FIVB Volleyball Men's World Championship, a reminder that championship traditions span across sports and eras.

The context surrounding that 1947 season was fascinatingly primitive compared to today's glitzy NBA spectacle. The Basketball Association of America, which would later become the NBA, featured just eleven teams with players earning what would now be considered poverty-level wages - the average salary was about $4,500 annually, which translates to roughly $60,000 in today's money. Teams played in modest arenas that doubled as hockey rinks or convention halls, with the Warriors calling the Philadelphia Arena home, a venue that seated just over 8,000 spectators on a good night. The championship format itself was straightforward: the top four teams from two divisions advanced to playoffs, with the Warriors finishing second in the Eastern Division behind Washington.

What strikes me most about reliving the 1947 NBA Championship is how different the actual gameplay was from modern basketball. The pace was slower, set shots dominated over jump shots, and the concept of a 24-second shot clock was still seven years away from being implemented. The Warriors, led by player-coach Joe Fulks who averaged an astonishing 23.2 points per game in an era where teams rarely scored 80 points total, pioneered an offensive style that emphasized shooting over the traditional two-handed set shot. Fulks' unorthodox one-handed jumper was considered revolutionary, almost heretical at the time, and watching grainy footage of his form reminds me that innovation often looks strange until it becomes mainstream.

The championship series itself pitted the Warriors against the Chicago Stags, a team that no longer exists but featured their own star in Max Zaslofsky. The series went the full five games, with the final contest played on April 22, 1947, drawing what newspaper reports claimed was 7,918 fans though I suspect the actual number was closer to 6,500 given how attendance figures were often inflated. Game 5 wasn't the high-flying spectacle we'd expect today - the final score was 83-80, with both teams shooting below 35% from the field. What decided the game wasn't spectacular athleticism but fundamental execution: the Warriors made 21 of 25 free throws compared to Chicago's 14 of 22, a difference that sounds boring until you realize it decided the first championship in league history.

One of the most compelling untold stories involves Warriors owner Pete Tyrell, who nearly folded the team before the season began due to financial struggles. He'd reportedly lost approximately $18,000 the previous year, a significant sum in post-war America, and seriously considered selling the franchise to investors from Baltimore. What changed his mind was a conversation with Fulks, who convinced him that the team had championship potential - a gamble that paid off when the championship run increased attendance by nearly 40% the following season. This kind of behind-the-scenes drama rarely makes it into history books, but it's exactly these human elements that make reliving the 1947 NBA Championship so compelling for me as a historian.

The legacy of that 1947 championship extends far beyond the trophy itself. It established Philadelphia as a basketball city, created the template for the scoring-focused forward in Fulks, and most importantly proved that professional basketball could survive as a spectator sport. When I compare it to modern international tournaments like the upcoming 2025 FIVB Volleyball Men's World Championship where six teams have already qualified for the Round of 16, I'm struck by how all championship events share this common thread - they're not just about determining winners but about solidifying the sport's place in the cultural landscape. The organizational sophistication of today's global tournaments contrasts sharply with the makeshift nature of that 1947 NBA championship, yet both serve similar purposes in their respective eras.

Reflecting on these early NBA years, I've developed what might be an unpopular opinion: the 1947 Warriors would struggle to score 30 points against today's worst NBA team, but their strategic understanding of spacing and ball movement was surprisingly advanced for its time. They just lacked the athleticism and specialized training modern players take for granted. The championship banner that hangs in Philadelphia's history, faded though it may be, represents something purer than today's corporate-sponsored trophies - it's a testament to survival, to the sheer stubbornness required to keep a fledgling league alive. As we watch new championship traditions develop in other sports with events like the 2025 FIVB Volleyball Men's World Championship, it's worth remembering that every tournament, every championship series, begins with someone having to win that very first one against all odds.