Let me take you back to that electric moment when the final buzzer sounded in last season’s NBA Finals. As someone who’s followed basketball religiously for over two decades, I’ve witnessed countless championship runs, but what the Denver Nuggets accomplished felt different—it felt earned in a way that modern championships rarely do. When Nikola Jokić lifted that Larry O’Brien trophy, it wasn’t just another title celebration; it was the culmination of a carefully crafted blueprint that defied conventional NBA wisdom. I remember watching their playoff run thinking, "This is how basketball should be played"—with patience, intelligence, and an almost stubborn commitment to their identity.
The journey to answering "who was the NBA champion last season" reveals more than just a team name—it unveils a masterclass in organizational patience. While other franchises were making panic trades and chasing superstar combinations, the Nuggets stayed the course with their core. They drafted Jokić in 2014 with the 41st pick, for heaven’s sake—a move that seemed insignificant at the time but would become the foundation of their entire operation. I’ve always believed that championship teams are built, not bought, and Denver proved this axiom beautifully. Their victory wasn’t a fluke; it was the result of years of deliberate development, of trusting their system even when they faced early playoff exits. What struck me most was their continuity—the starting five had played together for multiple seasons, developing a chemistry that opponents simply couldn’t manufacture during the playoffs.
Their path to the championship exposed several problems that modern NBA teams consistently face. The league has become obsessed with three-point shooting and positionless basketball, often at the expense of fundamental play. Teams were trying to out-small-ball each other, forgetting that basketball ultimately comes down to putting the ball in the basket efficiently. The Miami Heat, their finals opponent, epitomized this trend—a talented team no doubt, but one that relied heavily on perimeter shooting and defensive switching. When those shots weren’t falling, they lacked reliable secondary options. Meanwhile, the Nuggets had built their offense through Jokić in the high post, creating what I consider the most versatile half-court offense I’ve seen since the peak Spurs teams. They didn’t care about trends—they cared about what worked.
Denver’s solution was beautifully simple yet incredibly difficult to execute: they doubled down on their unique strengths rather than copying others. While the rest of the league was chasing the next Steph Curry, the Nuggets built around a center who could pass like Magic Johnson. Jokić averaged nearly a triple-double throughout the playoffs—30 points, 13.5 rebounds, and 9.5 assists per game—numbers that still boggle my mind when I look at them. But it wasn’t just about Jokić; Jamal Murray’s return from injury provided the perfect backcourt complement, averaging 26 points while shooting 39% from three-point range. Their two-man game became virtually unstoppable, especially in clutch moments. I remember specifically Game 4 of the Finals, where they ran the same pick-and-roll action three consecutive times, and Miami had no answer—that’s when I knew the series was over.
What truly separated them was their adaptability. When teams tried to double-team Jokić, he’d find the open man—often Aaron Gordon cutting backdoor or Michael Porter Jr. spotting up for three. When defenses stayed home on shooters, Jokić would take his man one-on-one. It was like watching a chess grandmaster playing against amateurs—every counter had a counter. Their defense, while not flashy, was perfectly disciplined—they protected the paint, limited second-chance opportunities, and most importantly, never compromised their defensive principles regardless of who they faced.
Reflecting on their achievement, Jokić’s post-game comments resonate deeply: "Here we are, finally with two championships. What a journey it has been and I’ve never been hungrier to go for more." This statement captures the essence of their victory—it wasn’t about proving doubters wrong or chasing legacy; it was about the genuine joy of building something sustainable. In my view, this mindset is what separates transient success from lasting greatness. The hunger he mentions isn’t just personal—it’s institutional, from the front office to the last player on the bench.
The implications for other teams are significant. We’re already seeing organizations reevaluate how they build rosters, placing greater emphasis on continuity and fit over collecting talent. The Nuggets demonstrated that in an era of player movement and superteams, there’s still immense value in growing together, in developing chemistry through shared experiences rather than transactions. Personally, I hope this signals a return to more organic team-building—basketball is more enjoyable when teams have distinct identities rather than being assembled like fantasy rosters.
Looking ahead, I’m fascinated to see how the Nuggets approach their title defense. The league will undoubtedly study their formula and develop counterstrategies, but Denver’s foundation is so solid that I believe they’re built for sustained success. They’ve created a template that balances star power with systemic strength, individual brilliance with collective purpose. In many ways, their victory feels like a correction—a reminder that basketball fundamentals still matter, that chemistry can’t be manufactured overnight, and that sometimes the best moves are the ones you don’t make. For basketball purists like myself, last season wasn’t just about crowning a champion—it was about validating an approach to the game that prioritizes substance over style, continuity over chaos.