I still remember the first time I truly noticed the NBA logo - it was during the 1998 Finals, watching Michael Jordan's iconic last shot with the Bulls. That silhouette against the red, white, and blue background struck me as something timeless, yet I had no idea about the fascinating story behind its creation. The untold narrative of how Alan Siegel designed this iconic symbol in 1969 deserves far more attention than it typically receives. What's particularly interesting is how the logo's evolution mirrors the very philosophy of adjustment and refinement that defines basketball itself, much like that Filipino coach's insight about reviewing what went wrong and making necessary adjustments.
The story begins in a rather unglamorous Manhattan office where Alan Siegel, then a 35-year-old designer, was flipping through Sports Illustrated when inspiration struck. He noticed a photograph of Jerry West dribbling down the court, his body perfectly capturing the grace and motion of basketball. Siegel paid exactly $150 for the rights to that photograph - a laughable sum by today's standards, but reasonable for 1969. What many don't realize is that Siegel wasn't just creating a logo; he was crafting an identity for a league that desperately needed one. The NBA was struggling with image problems and low television ratings at the time, and this visual representation became part of their turnaround strategy. I've always found it remarkable how a simple design can transform an organization's fortune.
Now, here's where it gets personal - I've worked in design for over twenty years, and Siegel's approach fascinates me because it embodies that perfect balance between artistic vision and practical adjustment. He didn't just slap Jerry West's silhouette onto a background; he meticulously refined it, testing different angles, proportions, and color combinations. The final version we know today went through at least fourteen iterations before Siegel felt it was right. That process of "binabalikan ulit namin what went wrong, saan kami pwede mag-adjust" - revisiting what needs improvement and making adjustments - is exactly what separates good design from iconic design. In my own career, I've learned that the magic rarely happens in the first draft; it emerges through that relentless process of refinement.
The irony, of course, is that Jerry West never officially received recognition as the logo's model until decades later, and even then, he's expressed mixed feelings about it. West once mentioned in an interview that he felt "uncomfortable" being the logo, which always struck me as strangely humble for such an achievement. Meanwhile, the NBA has maintained this curious position of never formally acknowledging West as the model, creating this wonderful mystery that's become part of basketball lore. Personally, I think this ambiguity actually strengthens the logo's power - it represents every player's potential for greatness rather than celebrating just one individual.
Financially speaking, the value this logo has generated is staggering. When Siegel created it, the NBA's annual revenue hovered around $25 million. Today, that figure exceeds $8 billion annually. While you can't attribute that growth solely to the logo, its brand recognition certainly played a crucial role. I've seen estimates suggesting the logo appears on merchandise generating over $3 billion in annual sales - though finding precise numbers is challenging since the NBA keeps such data closely guarded. What's undeniable is that Siegel's design has become one of the most recognized sports symbols globally, right up there with the Olympic rings.
The discussion around potentially changing the logo resurfaces every few years, with compelling arguments on both sides. When Kobe Bryant tragically passed away in 2020, over 3 million people signed petitions to replace West's silhouette with Bryant's. As much as I admired Kobe, I find myself in the camp that believes the logo should remain unchanged. There's something sacred about maintaining these visual traditions in sports - they connect generations of fans and preserve the historical continuity of the game. Besides, the current logo has that perfect balance of simplicity and dynamism that's incredibly difficult to improve upon.
What many modern designers might not appreciate is how revolutionary Siegel's approach was for its time. He applied corporate identity principles to sports at a time when most league logos were literal and cluttered. The NBA logo works because it's not trying to depict basketball literally - instead, it captures the essence of movement and athleticism. In my design workshops, I often use it as an example of how negative space can be as powerful as what's visibly depicted. The way the body leans into the dribble, the perfect geometry of the limbs - it's visual poetry that somehow also functions as a corporate symbol.
The legacy of this design extends far beyond basketball courts. I've spotted variations of the logo in fashion collections, art installations, and even political protests. Its cultural penetration is remarkable when you consider that Siegel completed the entire project in under two weeks and was paid approximately $14,000 in today's dollars for his work. That return on investment must be among the most impressive in design history. Every time I see that red, white, and blue silhouette, I'm reminded that great design isn't about complexity - it's about capturing a fundamental truth in its simplest form. The NBA logo does exactly that, which is why it continues to resonate more than fifty years after its creation.
