How the NBA's 2021 Playoff Standing Shaped Championship Contenders
I still remember watching that surreal moment when Devin Booker stepped off the plane in Manila back in 2021, his arrival captured in that now-famous SPIN.ph interview where his aunt, TNT Tropang 5G team manager Lastimosa, mentioned how they'd reconnected after years apart. Little did we realize then how this personal reunion mirrored the professional reconnections happening across the NBA landscape that same season. The 2021 playoff standings didn't just determine who would compete for the championship—they fundamentally reshaped our understanding of what makes a true contender in today's game.
Looking back at that compressed 72-game season, the standings told a story of tectonic shifts in team construction philosophy. The Phoenix Suns, who finished second in the Western Conference with a 51-21 record, demonstrated how continuity and chemistry could overcome superstar stacking. Having watched teams load up on big names for years, I found it refreshing to see a squad built through gradual development and strategic acquisitions rather than blockbuster trades. Chris Paul's arrival wasn't about adding another scorer—it was about installing a basketball CPU that could optimize every possession. Their journey from the bubble's 8-0 run to the Finals proved that sometimes the most dangerous teams aren't the ones with the brightest stars, but those with the fewest weak links.
Meanwhile, the Eastern Conference standings revealed something equally fascinating. The Milwaukee Bucks' third-place finish at 46-26 masked their true potential, largely because they'd been strategically managing Giannis' minutes and experimenting with defensive schemes throughout the season. Having followed Giannis since his rookie year, I've always believed his development trajectory would redefine what's possible for international players, but even I underestimated how perfectly the Bucks had built around his unique skill set. Their eventual championship run validated an approach I've long advocated for—building systems around singular talents rather than forcing stars into predetermined roles.
The play-in tournament, introduced that season, created fascinating ripple effects throughout the standings. The Lakers' slide to seventh place forced them through the play-in, which I argued at the time actually helped them build momentum despite the obvious fatigue concerns. LeBron playing 45,312 regular-season minutes before even entering the playoffs meant every additional game carried exponential risk, yet their path through Golden State in the play-in created a psychological edge that carried into their first-round matchup against Phoenix. Sometimes the standings don't tell you about a team's readiness—the Lakers were championship-tested in ways that didn't reflect in their 42-30 record.
What fascinated me most was how the standings revealed the growing importance of two-way wings. The teams that climbed highest—Phoenix, Milwaukee, Atlanta, even the surprising Knicks at fourth in the East—all featured versatile defenders who could credibly guard multiple positions while providing offensive spacing. As someone who's charted NBA evolution for over a decade, I've never seen positional value shift so dramatically toward what I call "connector" players—those who don't need plays called for them but make everyone else's job easier. Mikal Bridges' transformation from 3-and-D specialist to secondary creator perfectly exemplified this trend, and his +4.4 net rating during the playoffs showed how vital these players had become.
The Clippers' fourth-place finish despite Kawhi Leonard missing significant time hinted at a new reality—depth matters more than ever in the load management era. Their 47-25 record without their best player for 20 games demonstrated how the regular season had become about building systems rather than accumulating wins. I've always contended that playoff success requires at least eight reliable rotation players, and the Clippers' deep roster nearly carried them to the Conference Finals even after Kawhi's injury. Meanwhile, Brooklyn's second-place finish in the East at 48-24 showed the limitations of pure star power—their thin bench and defensive issues ultimately undermined their Big Three's historic offensive efficiency.
Utah's league-best 52-20 record presented the season's most compelling case study in regular season versus playoff translation. Their +9.2 point differential suggested dominance, but their conventional center-based defense proved vulnerable against teams with multiple perimeter creators. Having studied team construction for years, I believe the Jazz represented the end of an era—the last elite team built around a traditional big man as their defensive anchor. The playoffs exposed how the game had evolved toward spacing and switching, rendering even the most disciplined systems obsolete against teams with multiple shot creators.
Denver's third-place finish despite Jamal Murray's late-season ACL tear highlighted another standings anomaly—how a single superstar could elevate a team beyond its apparent ceiling. Nikola Jokić's historic season earned him his first MVP, but his +16.3 on/off rating during the playoffs showed his value extended far beyond box score numbers. As someone who values basketball IQ above all else, watching Jokić dissect defenses with preemptive passes felt like witnessing the next evolution of offensive basketball. His performance reinforced my long-held belief that elite processing speed will eventually surpass athleticism as the NBA's most valuable commodity.
The 2021 standings ultimately taught us that championship contention requires both elite talent and systemic coherence. The teams that advanced deepest—Milwaukee and Phoenix—featured symbiotic relationships between their stars and role players, with defensive versatility that allowed for multiple playoff adjustments. Having watched championship teams evolve over the past twenty years, I'm convinced the 2021 season marked a turning point where the regular season became less about establishing hierarchy and more about testing systems. The true contenders weren't necessarily the teams with the best records, but those whose standings position reflected sustainable strengths rather than temporary hot streaks. That lesson has shaped how I evaluate teams ever since—looking beyond wins and losses to how those results were achieved, and whether that approach can survive the unique pressures of playoff basketball.