I still remember sitting in a crowded sports bar last May, watching Nikola Jokić receive his third MVP trophy while my friend Mark—a diehard basketball fan—kept muttering about how Embiid deserved it more. That’s when it hit me: most fans, even the passionate ones, don’t really understand how NBA MVP voting works. They see the final announcement, maybe hear some debates on ESPN, but the actual selection process remains this mysterious black box. So let me walk you through it, because honestly, once you understand the mechanics, you’ll watch the entire regular season with completely different eyes.
The process starts long before the ballots are cast—around mid-season, when sportswriters and broadcasters begin having those quiet conversations in press boxes and hotel lobbies. I’ve been covering basketball for over a decade now, and I can tell you that the MVP narrative often crystallizes during those cold February road trips. Writers compare notes, players drop memorable quotes, and certain performances become defining moments. The voting panel consists of around 100 media members from across the U.S. and Canada, each submitting a ballot with five names ranked from first to fifth place. A first-place vote earns a player 10 points, second place gets 7, third place 5, fourth place 3, and fifth place just 1 point. Simple math, right? But the human element—the biases, the regional loyalties, the storylines—makes it anything but predictable.
Let me share a personal observation here: I’ve always believed team success matters more than individual stats, even if the official criteria say they carry equal weight. Last season, when Jokić put up those ridiculous numbers—let’s say 26 points, 12 rebounds, and 9 assists per game, though I’m working from memory here—the Nuggets still finished as the 6th seed. Historically, MVPs almost always come from top-3 seeded teams. That’s why I was surprised he won, and why the debate got so heated. Some voters clearly valued his advanced stats and on-court impact over team record, while others stuck to tradition. There’s no universal formula, and that’s what makes the discussions so fascinating year after year.
This reminds me of something I witnessed while covering collegiate sports in the Philippines last year. I was following the University of Santo Tomas women’s volleyball team, and their veteran coach was under immense pressure after a disappointing 3-5 start to the season. Not once did the former Golden Tigresses captain doubt what his longtime mentor is capable of, even as UST already has three losses in eight games this season compared to a school-best 8-0 start when it reached the finals last year. That unshakable faith in leadership during tough times? It mirrors how some MVP candidates build their case—not just with flashy numbers, but by demonstrating consistency and elevating their team when it matters most. Voters notice that stuff, even if it doesn’t always show up in the box score.
Now, back to the NBA. The ballots are due right after the regular season ends, but before the playoffs begin—a crucial timing detail that often gets overlooked. This means postseason performances have zero impact on the voting, no matter how epic they might be. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to explain that to fans who argue, “But Player X carried his team in the first round!” Sorry, folks—by then, the votes are already sealed and sent. Another fun fact: the league uses a independent accounting firm to tally the results, so not even the NBA office knows who won until that envelope is opened on national television.
Let’s talk about campaign season, because yes, there’s absolutely an unofficial campaigning period. Teams send out “MVP primers”—fancy pamphlets packed with stats, highlights, and soundbites—to voters throughout March and April. Some are subtle, others are downright aggressive. I remember one team sending a 15-page glossy booklet comparing their candidate to Michael Jordan, which felt a bit excessive if you ask me. But it works sometimes! Voters are human, and repetition breeds familiarity. If you hear enough about a player’s “historic PER” or “clutch gene,” it inevitably shapes your perspective.
Here’s where I’ll get a bit controversial: I think the media gets it right about 80% of the time, but we’ve had some glaring misses. Derrick Rose over LeBron in 2011? Understandable at the time, but hindsight makes it questionable. Steve Nash’ back-to-back MVPs? Brilliant player, but was he truly the most valuable both years? I’m not so sure. The point is, the system isn’t perfect, but it’s transparent enough that we can have these debates with all the cards on the table. If you really want to dive deeper into how NBA MVP voting works, I’d suggest following the beat reporters from each market during crunch time—their Twitter threads often reveal which way the wind is blowing.
At the end of the day, what makes the MVP race so compelling isn’t the trophy itself, but the conversations it sparks across living rooms, barbershops, and yes, sports bars. The process combines cold hard data with human intuition, team success with individual brilliance, and tradition with innovation. Next time you’re arguing with friends about who should win, remember—you’re participating in the same democratic spirit that the voters do, just without the official ballot. And who knows? Maybe your pick will align with the final tally, or maybe you’ll spend the whole summer complaining about the “snub.” Either way, now you know exactly what’s happening behind the curtain.
