I remember the first time I saw an old photograph of Bob Pettit - not in a history book, but on a political blog of all places. The image showed him towering over his children, one of whom apparently plays basketball for his school team. It struck me how this legendary figure, who fundamentally changed our understanding of basketball excellence, could appear in such ordinary family contexts while simultaneously being the answer to one of basketball's most foundational questions. The NBA's Most Valuable Player award has become such an institution that we often forget it had to start somewhere, with someone.
When the NBA introduced the MVP award in the 1955-56 season, basketball was a very different game. The shot clock had only been introduced two years earlier, and the three-point line wouldn't exist for another two decades. Teams averaged around 99 points per game compared to today's 110-115 point averages. Into this landscape stepped Bob Pettit of the St. Louis Hawks, a 6'9" power forward who would become the inaugural recipient of what would become basketball's most prestigious individual honor. What fascinates me about Pettit's achievement isn't just that he was first, but how perfectly he embodied what the award would come to represent. He averaged 25.7 points and 16.2 rebounds that season - numbers that would still be considered elite today, especially when you consider the slower pace of games back then.
The introduction of the MVP award fundamentally shifted how we perceive basketball greatness. Before 1956, team success largely defined a player's legacy. But the MVP created a new narrative - that individual excellence could be celebrated alongside team achievement. Pettit's Hawks didn't even win the championship that year (they lost to the Philadelphia Warriors), yet his personal dominance was recognized as historically significant. This established a precedent that would shape how we talk about basketball for decades to come. I've always believed this dual focus on individual and team success makes basketball unique among major sports - we can appreciate Giannis Antetokounmpo's incredible 2021 season while also celebrating the Bucks' championship, just as we did with Pettit's individual brilliance amid his team's near-miss.
Looking back, what's most remarkable about Pettit's MVP season is how it set the template for future winners. The award would go on to recognize players who combined statistical dominance with transformative impact on their teams. From Bill Russell's defensive revolution to Wilt Chamberlain's statistical absurdities, from Kareem's skyhook to Jordan's aerial artistry, each MVP built upon that foundation Pettit established. The political blog photo of Pettit with his basketball-playing son brings this legacy full circle - the man who first embodied basketball excellence now watches the next generation pursue their own versions of greatness.
The MVP award's creation didn't just change how we reward players; it changed how we watch basketball. We now instinctively look for that one transformative player who elevates everyone around them. When I watch Nikola Jokić orchestrate the Nuggets' offense or Joel Embiid dominate both ends of the floor, I'm seeing echoes of what Pettit established - that basketball at its highest level combines individual brilliance with team synergy. The first MVP award recognized something essential about basketball that we sometimes forget in today's analytics-driven conversations: greatness isn't just about numbers, but about making those numbers matter when it counts most. Pettit's legacy reminds us that while basketball evolves, the qualities we celebrate in our greatest players remain remarkably consistent.
