As I look back on the 2021-22 NBA season, what strikes me most isn't just which teams made the playoffs, but how their journeys reflected that profound quote about building habits and letting records take care of themselves. I've followed basketball for over twenty years, and this season perfectly illustrated why some teams consistently succeed while others falter when it matters most. The playoff picture that emerged last April wasn't just about talent—it was about which organizations had cultivated that crucial sense of familiarity with pressure situations.

The Eastern Conference told a fascinating story of teams at different stages of this development. Miami Heat securing the top seed with 53 wins didn't surprise me at all—they've been building toward this for years under Erik Spoelstra's system. Watching them, I kept thinking about how their culture embodies that idea of not being surprised by big moments. They've been there before, they've faced elimination games, and it showed in their poise throughout the season. Meanwhile, Boston's remarkable second-half surge to finish second with 51 wins demonstrated how quickly a team can transform when they embrace those right habits. I remember watching them in December and thinking they were disjointed, but by April, they played with the connectivity of a team that had been together for years.

What really broke my heart was Brooklyn's situation. On paper, they had arguably the most talented roster with Kevin Durant, Kyrie Irving, and for part of the season, James Harden. But they never developed that consistency, that familiarity with each other's games that championship teams need. Ending up seventh and having to fight through the play-in tournament was a stark reminder that talent alone doesn't guarantee success. I've always believed team chemistry matters more than people acknowledge, and Brooklyn proved it. Meanwhile, Milwaukee quietly positioned themselves as defending champions should—staying healthy, developing rhythms, and finishing third with 51 wins. They never seemed panicked, just steadily built toward playoff readiness.

Out West, the narrative was equally compelling. Phoenix's league-best 64-win season was a masterclass in developing that stage familiarity. I watched them closely all season, and what impressed me wasn't their winning streaks but how they handled adversity. When Chris Paul missed time, others stepped up seamlessly because they'd built habits that didn't depend on one player. Memphis surprised everyone with 56 wins, but to me, their success made perfect sense. Ja Morant plays with that fearless quality that comes from truly believing you belong on the big stage. Their young core had been through playoff battles already, and it showed in their regular-season consistency.

The teams that missed out taught equally valuable lessons. The Lakers' disastrous 33-49 season perfectly illustrated what happens when you ignore those fundamental principles about building habits. As someone who's analyzed roster construction for years, I found their approach baffling—throwing together aging stars without establishing any systemic identity. They were constantly surprised by big moments because they hadn't built the foundation to handle them. Similarly, Sacramento extending their playoff drought to 16 seasons showed how organizational instability prevents teams from developing that crucial familiarity with success. I've visited Sacramento multiple times during their rebuilds, and what they've lacked isn't talent but consistent direction.

What stood out to me about the playoff teams was how many had been building toward this moment for years. Golden State returning to championship form after their injury-plagued seasons demonstrated the power of institutional memory. Even when they struggled, they maintained their identity and habits, knowing the records would eventually reflect their process. Dallas with their 52-win campaign showed similar growth—Luka Dončić has been through enough playoff battles now that regular-season pressure doesn't faze him anymore.

The play-in tournament added another layer to this dynamic. Minnesota making it through to claim the seventh seed showed how quickly a young team can mature when given the opportunity to compete under pressure. Meanwhile, seeing Atlanta barely squeeze in as the eighth seed after their conference finals run the previous year reminded me how fragile success can be. They seemed to regress, perhaps expecting their talent to carry them without continuing to build those daily habits.

Looking at the complete playoff picture, the pattern becomes clear to me. The teams that succeeded weren't necessarily the most talented on paper—they were the ones who had created environments where players weren't surprised by pressure because they'd been preparing for it all season. They understood that developing the right habits would let the records take care of themselves. This philosophy separated the contenders from the pretenders more clearly than any individual statistic could capture. Having watched countless teams cycle through rebuilds and championship windows, I'm more convinced than ever that sustainable success comes from this approach—focusing on process over outcomes, building habits over chasing temporary results. The 2021-22 season will stick with me as a powerful case study in why some organizations consistently find themselves playing meaningful basketball in May and June while others watch from home.