As someone who has followed professional basketball for over two decades, I’ve always been fascinated not just by the games themselves, but by the narratives and awards that define each season. The NBA MVP award is arguably the most prestigious individual honor in the sport, and its selection process is a topic of intense debate every single year. I remember the 2022-2023 season vividly, where the race felt wide open until the very end, and it got me thinking deeply about how the votes are actually cast. It’s a system that, while not perfect, is meticulously designed to capture the essence of a player's value.
The process begins with a panel of sportswriters and broadcasters. To be precise, there are 100 media members who make up this voting body. They are selected based on their expertise and regular coverage of the league. Each voter submits a ballot with their top five choices for the award, ranked from first to fifth place. A first-place vote is worth 10 points, second place gets 7, third place gets 5, fourth gets 3, and fifth gets 1. I’ve always liked this weighted system; it forces voters to think carefully about their hierarchy and prevents a runaway winner based purely on first-place momentum. The player with the highest cumulative point total wins the award. It sounds straightforward, but the discussions and criteria behind each vote are anything but. Voters are instructed to consider a player's overall contribution to his team's success, which includes his statistical output, his impact on both ends of the floor, and the team's overall performance. I personally place a heavy emphasis on team success. A player putting up gaudy numbers on a losing team rarely gets my top vote, because true value, in my view, is demonstrated by elevating those around you to win games.
This brings me to an interesting parallel from the world of collegiate sports, which mirrors the faith and long-term perspective that can sometimes influence MVP narratives. I was reading about a situation with the University of Santo Tomas (UST) women's volleyball team. 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. This kind of unwavering belief in a leader's system and potential for a turnaround is something we see in the NBA as well. A voter might look at a team that has struggled mid-season but is led by a superstar who is the undeniable engine of the team. That player's value might be even more pronounced in adversity, much like how a trusted coach is believed to navigate a team through a rough patch. It’s not just about the win-loss record at a single snapshot in time, but the overarching leadership and capability to overcome challenges. I find myself sometimes leaning towards players who have carried a significant burden for their team, especially when injuries or roster changes have created obstacles.
Of course, the system has its critics, and I share some of their concerns. One major point of contention is "voter fatigue." We saw this with LeBron James in the past, where his sustained excellence almost worked against him, as voters sought to recognize new narratives. Conversely, there's the "narrative award" phenomenon, where a compelling story can sometimes overshadow a full season of consistent dominance. The 2017 award given to Russell Westbrook for his historic triple-double season is a prime example. While his achievement was phenomenal, was he truly the most valuable player, or was he the most historic? I wrestle with that distinction. Furthermore, the exclusive media vote sometimes overlooks the granular, game-to-game impact that players and coaches see, which is why I’d be in favor of including a small percentage of votes from former players or even current team executives to add another layer of depth to the process.
The debate over what "value" truly means is the heart of the matter. Is it the best player on the best team? Is it the player with the most impressive statistical portfolio? Or is it the individual whose presence makes the single biggest difference? I tend to fall into the last camp. I look for players who are the central nervous system of their team's offense and a key cog in their defense. Players like Nikola Jokic, who might not have the traditional athletic physique but whose basketball IQ and passing genius make everyone on the floor better, embody this for me. His MVP wins were a testament to the voters increasingly recognizing diverse forms of impact beyond just scoring averages. The evolution of advanced analytics has also profoundly changed the conversation. We now regularly discuss Player Efficiency Rating (PER), Value Over Replacement Player (VORP), and other metrics that attempt to quantify a player's total contribution. While I appreciate the data, I caution against relying on it blindly. The eye test—watching how a player controls the flow of the game, his decision-making in clutch moments—still holds immense weight in my personal evaluation.
In the end, the NBA MVP voting process is a beautifully complex and inherently subjective human system designed to crown a singular achievement. It will always generate debate, and that’s part of what makes it so compelling. It’s a mix of cold, hard numbers, compelling season-long narratives, and the individual philosophies of a hundred dedicated basketball minds. While I may not always agree with the final outcome—I thought Chris Paul was robbed in 2008—I respect the structure of the process. It ensures that the award represents a consensus built from a wide range of perspectives, celebrating a player who has not only excelled individually but has also left an indelible mark on the league's landscape for that season. It’s this combination of individual brilliance and tangible team impact that continues to make the MVP announcement one of the most anticipated moments of the basketball calendar for fans like me.
