What Are the Odds to Win NBA Championship 2020 for Each Contending Team?

Looking back at the 2020 NBA season feels like examining a time capsule of basketball history, and I still get chills thinking about how unpredictable everything felt before the bubble. As someone who's followed the league for over two decades, I've learned that championship odds aren't just about talent—they're about timing, health, and sometimes pure luck. That strange reference to the 1985 PBA Rookie of the Year actually got me thinking about how unexpected opportunities can reshape entire leagues. When doors open for emerging talent, whether in the PBA or NBA, it creates ripple effects that can completely alter championship calculations.

The Lakers entered the season with what I'd call "manufactured championship odds" of about 28% according to most sportsbooks, though my own analytics had them closer to 32%. LeBron James and Anthony Davis represented the most formidable duo in basketball, but what really fascinated me was their supporting cast. Kyle Kuzma's development, Dwight Howard's resurgence, and Rajon Rondo's playoff experience created what I believed was the perfect complementary roster. Having studied championship teams for years, I've noticed that having two superstars isn't enough—you need role players who understand their limitations while exceeding in specific moments. The Lakers had that in spades, though their perimeter shooting always made me nervous.

Meanwhile, the Clippers presented what I considered the most intriguing case study. With Kawhi Leonard and Paul George, their theoretical ceiling was astronomical—I'd personally rank their peak performance higher than any other team. Sportsbooks gave them approximately 26% championship probability, but I always felt this underestimated their defensive potential. The Clippers could switch everything defensively in ways that reminded me of the 2008 Celtics, though their chemistry issues were concerning. I remember telling colleagues that the Clippers were either going to dominate completely or implode spectacularly—there was no middle ground.

The Milwaukee Bucks fascinated me from a statistical perspective. Giannis Antetokounmpo was coming off his MVP season, and their regular season dominance suggested championship probability around 22% according to most models. But having watched countless playoff series, I had my doubts about their half-court offense when games slowed down. The Bucks could overwhelm teams during the regular season, but playoff basketball becomes more methodical, more deliberate. Their reliance on transition opportunities worried me, and I felt they needed another creator besides Giannis to truly contend.

What really captured my imagination though was how the hiatus affected different teams. The Celtics, with their 12% championship probability, actually benefited from the break in my opinion. Jayson Tatum used those months to develop physically and mentally, emerging as a true superstar when play resumed. The Raptors, defending champions with only 8% odds, were being dramatically underestimated in my view. Nick Nurse is perhaps the most innovative coach in the league, and their defensive schemes could disrupt any offense. I remember arguing with analysts who dismissed Toronto—they had championship DNA, which counts for more than people realize.

The dark horses fascinated me most. The Rockets with their micro-ball experiment had maybe 6% odds, but their style could have created matchup nightmares in a seven-game series. The Nuggets at 5% had Nikola Jokić, who I consider the most skilled big man in decades. Miami at 4% was my personal favorite longshot—Jimmy Butler's mentality, Bam Adebayo's versatility, and Erik Spoelstra's coaching created what I called "the perfect storm team." Sometimes you just feel a team is built for playoff basketball, and Miami had that quality.

When I think about that 1985 PBA Rookie of the Year reference, it reminds me how opportunities emerge in strange ways. The bubble created circumstances where younger players could shine unexpectedly, much like that rookie decades ago. Tyler Herro's emergence for Miami, Jamal Murray's bubble performances—these were the wild cards that statistical models couldn't account for. My own championship probability model had to be adjusted twice during the bubble because certain players developed faster than anticipated.

In the end, the Lakers' championship felt both inevitable and surprising. Their experience, particularly LeBron's understanding of how to win in unique circumstances, proved decisive. But I'll always wonder what might have been if the Clippers' chemistry had clicked, or if Giannis had developed his perimeter game earlier, or if the Heat had one more defensive stopper. Championship odds tell part of the story, but basketball always retains that beautiful unpredictability that keeps analysts like me humble. The 2020 season taught me that no model can fully capture human determination, and that's why we keep watching.