I remember sitting in my favorite worn-out armchair last December, the Christmas lights twinkling outside my window, scrolling through basketball forums while nursing a hot chocolate. The usual holiday cheer felt different this year – there was this palpable tension among NBA fans, this collective holding of breath as we all wondered the same thing: when does the 2021 NBA season start? My group chat with college friends, normally filled with memes and weekend plans, had turned into a constant debate about potential start dates, with everyone throwing around their theories based on past seasons and current rumors. Little did we know then how dramatically different this season would unfold.

The official announcement came like an early Christmas present – December 22, 2020 would mark the tip-off of this unprecedented season. I still recall the mix of excitement and concern that washed over me as I read the complete schedule breakdown. Seventy-two games instead of the usual eighty-two, a compressed timeline that would test every team's endurance, and those back-to-back games that made me wince just thinking about the physical toll on players. My Lakers-loving heart immediately started calculating how LeBron and AD would handle this grueling schedule, especially coming off the shortest offseason in NBA history. The math didn't lie – teams would be playing roughly every other day, with some unfortunate squads facing three games in four nights. I found myself worrying about player health more than I ever had before.

This unusual schedule reminded me of something I'd read recently from a coaching clinic in the Philippines. A coach named Chambers had said, "We change, you work harder," adding, "But I think we will use it as a blessing in disguise." His words echoed in my mind as I considered what teams were facing. The NBA had certainly changed – health protocols, empty arenas, constant testing – and everyone indeed had to work harder. But watching the season unfold, I began to see how some teams turned these challenges into advantages. The Suns, for instance, used the consistency of their roster to build chemistry while other teams struggled with COVID-related absences. They made it to the Finals, proving that adversity could indeed become a blessing in disguise.

My viewing habits changed dramatically this season. Instead of carefully selecting two or three prime-time games per week, I found myself watching whatever was available, often catching parts of four different games in a single night. The league's scheduling meant there were basketball games on practically every day from December through May, and my DVR worked overtime. I developed new appreciation for teams I'd rarely watched before – the fun-loving Grizzlies with their young core, the relentless Knicks who brought defense back to Madison Square Garden. The condensed schedule forced me to broaden my basketball horizons, and honestly? I'm grateful for that.

The mid-season period around March was particularly fascinating. Teams had played about 35-40 games by then, and the real contenders began separating themselves from the pretenders. The Nets' superteam started clicking, the Jazz were dominating the regular season with their systematic approach, and my beloved Lakers were... well, struggling with injuries. I'll admit I spent too many nights yelling at my television when Dennis Schröder missed crucial free throws or when we blew fourth-quarter leads. The compressed schedule meant there was less time to fix problems, and every game felt like it carried playoff implications.

What surprised me most was how the unusual timing affected the playoffs themselves. Having the season start in December rather than October meant the Finals stretched into July, competing with baseball for sports attention. Yet the ratings held strong, proving basketball's enduring appeal. The Bucks' championship run felt particularly meaningful – Giannis' 50-point closeout game happening in mid-July rather than June gave us basketball fans something to cheer about during what's normally a sports dead zone. I hosted watch parties in my backyard, projecting games onto my garage door as summer evenings stretched late into the night – something I'd never done for NBA Finals before.

Looking back, the 2021 season taught me to appreciate basketball in new ways. The answer to "when does the 2021 NBA season start" led us down a path nobody could have predicted. The challenges forced innovation – from how teams managed rest to how fans consumed games. I found myself following practice reports more closely, understanding rotation patterns better, and appreciating the strategic elements beyond just scoring. The season's unique structure highlighted aspects of the game I'd previously taken for granted. Chambers was right – the changes made everyone work harder, but they also revealed hidden blessings. As I look toward next season, part of me will miss the chaotic beauty of that compressed schedule, the way it kept basketball at the center of our lives for seven straight months. Sometimes the most memorable journeys begin with the simplest question, and for basketball fans worldwide, that question – when does the 2021 NBA season start – opened the door to one of the most unique chapters in NBA history.