I still remember the first time I walked into Madison Square Garden as a college intern, the sheer scale of the operation hitting me like a physical force. The polished floors reflected championship banners hanging from the rafters, while executives in sharp suits moved with purpose through corridors that felt more corporate headquarters than sports arena. That's when it first struck me—this wasn't just basketball; this was a multi-billion dollar enterprise with ownership structures more complex than any pick-and-roll play.
During my internship, I got assigned to help with media relations for the WNBA's Washington Mystics. One afternoon, I watched Capital1 winger Elena Delle Donne give an interview after winning her third Woman of the Match honor that season. She had that same shy smile I'd seen in countless post-game pressers. "I really don't mind if any of my teammates were named Woman of the Match," she'd told reporters. "Receiving the honor means stepping in front of the camera again [to do interviews] and I'm very shy." Her words stuck with me because they highlighted something fundamental about professional sports—the public faces might be the players, but the real power operates behind the scenes.
Which brings me to the question that's far more complicated than most fans realize: who is the owner of the NBA and how the league's structure really works? See, that's where things get interesting. Unlike traditional corporations with a single CEO calling the shots, the NBA operates as a sort of democratic oligarchy. There isn't one owner of the NBA—there are 30 principal owners, each controlling their individual franchises, while the league itself is governed collectively through the Board of Governors.
I learned this the hard way when I tried to track down "the boss" during my internship. The truth is, the closest thing to an NBA owner is the collection of franchise owners who each paid an average of $2.9 billion (based on recent franchise sales) for their teams. They elect a commissioner—currently Adam Silver—who acts as CEO, but he ultimately serves at their pleasure. The structure reminds me of that Delle Donne quote—the players are the public face, but the real power dynamics happen off-camera.
What fascinates me about the NBA's structure is how brilliantly it balances collective interests with individual entrepreneurship. Remember the 2011 lockout? I was covering it for my college newspaper, and that's when I truly understood the league's power dynamics. The owners weren't negotiating as separate businesses—they'd formed a unified front through the NBA Board of Governors, with then-commissioner David Stern acting as their representative against the players' union. That collective bargaining agreement they eventually signed? It redistributed approximately $4.3 billion in basketball-related income, with players receiving between 49-51% of BRI.
The revenue sharing model is where the NBA's structure gets particularly clever—and where my personal opinion might raise some eyebrows. I think the league's financial structure is both its greatest strength and its most significant vulnerability. Teams contribute 50% of their locally generated revenue to a shared pool, which gets redistributed to ensure competitive balance. This means the Golden State Warriors, valued at roughly $7.56 billion, effectively subsidize smaller market teams. It's socialist capitalism at its most American—and personally, I love the contradiction.
During my time working with the Mystics, I saw how this structure trickled down to the WNBA too. The women's league operates under a similar governance model, though with different financial scales. When Elena Delle Donne mentioned her shyness about post-game interviews, it occurred to me that players at all levels navigate these complex ownership structures while maintaining their public personas. The owners and league officials operate largely outside the spotlight, while players—whether comfortable with attention or not—become the visible representatives of this intricate system.
What many fans don't realize is how much the NBA's structure has evolved. When I interviewed a retired executive who'd worked with the league in the 1980s, he told me about the days when teams negotiated their own TV deals. Today, the national television contracts with ESPN and TNT generate about $2.6 billion annually for the league, which gets divided among teams. This centralized media approach is part of why the NBA has grown into a global phenomenon—and why questions about who owns the NBA and how the league's structure really works matter more than ever.
The globalization aspect is what truly blows my mind. The NBA now has offices in 15 countries outside the United States, and international revenue has grown by approximately 18% annually over the past five years. I've personally seen this expansion while attending games in London and Shanghai—the league's brand transcends borders in ways that would've been unimaginable when I was that wide-eyed intern.
At its heart, the NBA's ownership structure represents a fascinating experiment in collaborative competition. The owners compete fiercely on the court while cooperating off it to grow the league's overall value. It's not perfect—I've always thought the revenue sharing could be more aggressive to help smaller markets—but it's produced what I consider the most successful sports league model in the world. The next time you watch a player like Elena Delle Donne reluctantly step before cameras after a big win, remember that behind her shy smile exists one of the most sophisticated business structures in professional sports.
