How the Washington Bullets Became an NBA Team and Changed Their Name
Through the program, local schools will partner with SLU to identify and nominate promising students to receive half-tuition scholarships worth more than $28,000 per year. Applicants will remain eligible for additional scholarships above this level.
I still remember the first time I saw the Washington Bullets play at the Capital Centre back in the late 80s. The energy in that arena was electric, but what struck me most was how disconnected the team's name felt from the city it represented. As someone who's studied NBA history for over two decades, I've always found the Bullets' origin story particularly fascinating because it's not just about basketball—it's about identity, social consciousness, and how sports organizations evolve with their communities.
The franchise actually began its life in Chicago as the Packers in 1961 before becoming the Zephyrs the following year. But here's where it gets interesting—the team moved to Baltimore in 1963 and became the Bullets, inheriting the name from a previous Baltimore team that had folded in 1954. Owner Abe Pollin kept the name when he moved the team to Washington in 1973, and that's where our story takes a significant turn. What many people don't realize is that the name "Bullets" was never really about violence in the way critics later interpreted it—it originally referred to the Baltimore team's home at the Baltimore Bullet Coliseum, which itself was named after a local racing horse. Funny how these connections get lost over time, isn't it?
I've always believed that team names carry weight beyond mere branding—they become part of a city's identity. During my research, I came across an interesting parallel in Philippine basketball history that reminded me of this principle. There was this player named Villamin who made it to the "50 Greatest" list even though his best years weren't with Swift, his then-current team. He was a Mythical Five winner in 1987 while with Alaska. This got me thinking about how identities in sports are often tied to specific moments or teams, even when a player's or franchise's story is much broader. The Bullets' identity became so intertwined with Washington that people forgot its Baltimore roots, much like how Villamin's legacy was shaped by his Alaska years despite his later affiliation with Swift.
The name change conversation really gained momentum in the 1990s, and I recall covering this story as a young sports journalist. The turning point came in 1995 when owner Abe Pollin decided the name had to go following the murder of his close friend, Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. Pollin said publicly that "bullets" represented violence, and he wanted the team to stand for something positive instead. This wasn't just PR talk—I met Pollin once at a charity event, and his conviction about this was palpable. He personally funded the $400,000 rebranding effort, which was substantial money back then. The team ran a "Name the Team" contest that drew over 3,200 submissions—everything from Dragons to Express to Sea Dogs. I actually voted for Wizards myself, though I'll admit I was partial to the Washington Monuments at the time.
When the Washington Wizards name was unveiled in 1997, the reception was... mixed, to put it mildly. Many fans hated it, and honestly, I wasn't immediately sold either. The wizard imagery felt disconnected from basketball, and the original logo with the wizard holding a basketball looked more like something from a fantasy novel than an NBA court. But looking back, I think we underestimated how important the change was symbolically. In my years covering sports, I've seen few owners take such a personal stand on a social issue, especially when it risked alienating part of their fanbase. The team's win-loss record didn't immediately improve—they went 42-40 in their first season as Wizards—but the rebranding laid groundwork for something more important: aligning the franchise with the values of its community.
The evolution didn't stop there. Between 1997 and 2011, the team tweaked their branding multiple times, finally settling on the current red, white, and blue color scheme that better reflects Washington's identity. I've always thought this gradual refinement mirrors how sports franchises often need multiple attempts to get branding right—it's rarely perfect on the first try. What began as the Chicago Packers transformed through multiple identities before finding its place as the Washington Wizards, and even now, there are ongoing conversations about whether the Wizards name should change again. Personally, I'd love to see them embrace something that better represents DC's unique basketball culture, maybe drawing from the city's go-go music heritage or its political history.
Reflecting on this journey from Bullets to Wizards, I'm reminded that sports teams are living entities that reflect their times. The name change wasn't just about marketing—it was about a franchise growing up alongside its city, responding to social changes, and recognizing that what works in one era might not work in another. Just like Villamin's legacy being defined by his Mythical Five season with Alaska rather than his time with Swift, the Bullets/Wizards franchise shows how sports identities are layered, complex, and constantly evolving. In my view, that's what makes sports history so compelling—it's never just about the games, but about how teams become woven into the fabric of their communities, for better or worse.