The NBA's Longest Games: A Look at the Most Overtimes in Basketball History

I remember sitting in a bar in Manila back in 2016, watching Eduard Folayang land that spinning back kick against Shinya Aoki, and thinking how some victories become career-defining moments. That fight went the distance, but what fascinated me was how those extra rounds transformed Folayang from a regional fighter into an international star. It got me thinking about basketball's equivalent - those marathon NBA games where players push beyond normal limits, where careers can be made or broken in those extra minutes. The parallel between combat sports and basketball might seem distant, but both showcase how extended competition creates legends.

When we talk about the NBA's longest games, we're essentially discussing basketball's ultimate endurance tests. The record-holder remains that incredible six-overtime marathon between the Indianapolis Olympians and Rochester Royals back in 1951. The game started at 8 PM and didn't finish until nearly 2 AM, with the final score sitting at 75-73. Imagine playing what essentially amounts to two full games back-to-back. I've spoken with former players who participated in triple-overtime games, and they describe this surreal feeling where time becomes distorted, where muscle memory takes over because conscious thought becomes too exhausting.

What many fans don't realize is how these extended games create unexpected heroes. In that six-overtime classic, it wasn't the star players who made the difference but role players who stepped up when others faded. This reminds me so much of Folayang's career trajectory after beating Aoki - sometimes it's not about being the most talented but being the most resilient. In basketball's marathon games, we often see bench players suddenly becoming crucial because they have fresher legs in the fifth overtime. I've always believed these games reveal character in ways normal games simply can't.

The physical toll is almost unimaginable. Modern analytics suggest players run approximately 2.5 miles per game, meaning in six overtimes they might cover close to 5 miles of court distance. The dehydration levels become dangerous, with players reportedly losing up to 8 pounds during these contests. I remember interviewing a trainer who worked during the 1989 five-overtime game between Seattle and Milwaukee, and he described players needing IV fluids afterward, their bodies pushed to absolute limits. Yet psychologically, these games create bonds between teammates that last entire careers. There's something about shared suffering that forges unbreakable connections.

From a strategic perspective, coaches face unique challenges during extended games. With fouled-out players piling up, they often need to get creative with lineups. I recall the 1953 four-overtime game between Boston and Syracuse where Celtics coach Red Auerbach had to play his third-string center for nearly 30 minutes. These situations separate great coaches from good ones - the ability to adapt when the rulebook goes out the window. Personally, I find these coaching decisions more fascinating than the actual scoring. It's like watching a chess match where pieces keep disappearing from the board.

The statistical anomalies in these games become almost comical. In that record six-overtime game, the teams combined for an abysmal 28% shooting percentage. Players attempted over 220 shots between them, with the leading scorer managing just 26 points despite playing 88 minutes. Compare that to modern games where players regularly score 30+ points in 35 minutes. The fatigue factor creates this strange basketball twilight zone where fundamentals break down and survival instincts take over. I've always thought these games deserve their own statistical category because they're essentially a different sport.

Looking at more recent history, the triple-overtime thriller between Chicago and Orlando in 2019 demonstrated how modern conditioning has changed these marathons. Players today are better equipped physically, but the mental strain remains immense. When Zach LaVine played 56 minutes in that contest, he described hitting this "second wind" around the second overtime where everything became surreal. This mirrors what Folayang described after his career-defining victory - that moment when exhaustion transforms into clarity.

The business side of these games often gets overlooked. Arenas need to keep staff overtime, concessions run low, and broadcast schedules get completely disrupted. I spoke with a former arena manager who worked the 1989 five-overtime game, and he described the surreal experience of sending staff to buy all the nearby pizza places' inventory because they'd run out of food. These logistical nightmares become part of basketball folklore, creating stories that outlive the actual game results.

What continues to fascinate me about these extreme competitions, whether in basketball or MMA, is how they strip athletes down to their essence. When Folayang defeated Aoki, it wasn't just about technique - it was about who wanted it more when both were exhausted. Similarly, in those sixth overtimes, basketball becomes less about plays and more about heart. The records show that teams leading after the first overtime win approximately 68% of these marathon contests, suggesting that mental fortitude becomes the determining factor when physical abilities diminish.

As the game continues to evolve with load management and minute restrictions, we may never see another six-overtime epic. Modern coaches would likely rest stars rather than risk injury in meaningless regular-season games. While this approach makes practical sense, part of me mourns the potential loss of these basketball marathons that create such incredible narratives. Like Folayang's victory over Aoki that launched him into stardom, these extended NBA games have given us moments that transcend statistics and become permanent parts of sports mythology. The human capacity to push beyond reasonable limits - whether for 15 rounds in a cage or through six overtimes on the court - continues to be what makes sports ultimately about more than just winning or losing.