The Warriors were up 15 in the fourth quarter. They no doubt were going to beat the visiting Brooklyn Nets, but the drama was just beginning. Steve Kerr benched Draymond Green with 10:25 left in the game. And Green, who was 1 for 8 with four rebounds and three turnovers to that point, was furious. He was an All-Star headed for the Defensive Player of the Year award. He'd earned the right to play through his funk instead of being embarrassed with a benching.
He sat the rest of the quarter and was still fuming after the game.
"If he woulda said one more word to me, I was gonna go off on his ass," Green said in the locker room, unapologetically loud. "One more word, I was 'bout to cuss his ass out. But he's smart. I'll give him that. He's smart. He didn't say one more word to me."
After that game, back on Feb. 25, 2017, it felt like the dynasty might be crumbling before it peaked. That night, the Warriors felt combustible, destined for the kind of bad breakup that often ends historic runs. As Kerr explained what was going on to owner Joe Lacob after the game in the hallway outside the locker room, not even bothering to whisper as Green stormed by, it felt as if the Warriors' Krazy Glue-like chemistry was all but dried out.
Fast-forward about one week. The Warriors had two off days in New York and were riding a two-game losing streak, their first one all season. Kerr had plans to go see "Hamilton" on Broadway with his wife. But Margot got a call from her husband. He was going to be late.
He and Green grabbed a drink and just talked.
"People don't understand our relationship," Green said recently. "I'm probably closer with Steve than any other player on this team."
When Kerr got the Warriors job and it became clear Green would be a central figure, he called up Michigan State coach Tom Izzo for advice on coaching Green.
Izzo told Kerr to go at Green because that gets the most out of him. Kerr, whose competitive fire trends toward maniacal, had no problem acquiescing.
"I might have gone too far a couple times," Kerr recalled. But Green almost welcomes the friction. So the two were made for each other in some ways.
The relationship between Green and Kerr hasn't deteriorated. It's gotten stronger, as evidenced by the test it passed this season.
The Warriors pretty much slogged through 2017-18, and a big part of that was on Green's shoulders. He was going at about 75 percent during the regular season. Kerr, already on guard against complacency, wanted to breathe fire into Green, light his pilot. But this was Year 4 of dueling dragons. So Kerr took a different approach, one built on patience and understanding.
"This year, we've even moved beyond that," Kerr said, "to where I think we fully understand each other. And I understand you've gotta let Draymond be Draymond. In the end, it works. So I've got to give him the leash that he needs to turn it over and take some shots.
"That's fine, because in the end, the guy wins. He just wins. And he competes. One of the reasons he wins is because his emotional intensity is at a certain level. ... So I couldn't get too frustrated. I had to live through some nights where he didn't have his full energy, was taking some bad shots and turning it over.
As long as I was reminding myself that we're getting the real Draymond in the playoffs."
And then Game 1 of the playoffs came. And Green turned it up to 100 percent. And the Warriors' spirit and energy was back.
They had survived.
@Gil Scott-Heroin
Draymond Green and Steve Kerr have an interesting but strong relationship. (Ronald Martinez/Getty Images)
Kerr and Green are a microcosm of the perseverance of the Warriors' chemistry. Perhaps the most impressive thing about this season is how they have avoided the blowups and drama and turmoil that rip great teams apart.
Pat Riley called it the "Disease of More" — the idea that success unlocks the worst in teams. NBA championships come with glory and accolades that distract, explode egos, tap into the greed and selfishness previously suppressed to win the championship. Elite teams, especially in the age of social media, are a breeding ground for envy and personal agendas. It fractures locker rooms. Powerhouses from past eras are replete with behind-the-scenes stories about how much of a mess they became internally.
Somehow, the Warriors have avoided this disease. They are the most-watched team in NBA history. Yet the spotlight and pressures still haven't messed up their chemistry. Their success might feel inevitable since they are so loaded with talent. But history says the Warriors probably should be teetering on the brink of implosion. Instead, they have managed to fight off the elements.
"Nothing was given too early and we appreciate the moment," Stephen Curry said. "Now we've got (Kevin Durant), we haven't changed really. We've evolved as players and people on and off the court. But the purity of what we do when we're out here on the floor is what everybody focuses on and wants to protect as much as possible. It takes a very special blend of individuals and personalities to sustain, for sure."
Nobody messes with David West. He is the unofficial Sergeant at Arms in every locker room he occupies, a role he has embraced his entire career. Because of it, he has a great radar for friction. He can smell it in the air like something's burning.
Playing against the New Orleans Pelicans in the Western Conference semifinals recently, he was reminded of a situation with the Hornets (before they changed their name). Back in the 2004-05 season, rookie guard J.R. Smith, who was 18 years old and fresh out of high school, didn't get along with power forward Rodney Rogers. West's keen sense detected Rogers' simmering frustrations were about to boil over.
So West was ready. And when it did happen, he probably saved Smith's life.
"He probably would've killed J.R. if I didn't get to him," West said of Rogers, a 6-foot-7, 230-pound forward with a mean streak. "I'm serious. Everybody else was scared of Rodney Rogers.
"You could feel things like that. You feel them coming. And part of it was the environment. Not one day I've felt that here."
As a result, West has had his proverbial feet up since arriving with the Warriors before the 2016-17 season. West's strong voice is rarely used. His self-proclaimed specialty is sensing when guys are getting ready to cross the line and stepping in to cool it down.
"I used to have to stop ass-whoopings," West said with pride. But since he's joined the Warriors, his history knowledge is needed more than his conflict-resolution skills.
West didn't have to be that guy when he played in San Antonio, either. But this is different. The cohesion on the Warriors isn't a product of conformity as much as it is of freedom. And that amazes him when he thinks about it.
The players-only meeting is a staple of locker rooms in distress. But West said the Warriors don't have the kind of problems that warrant such meetings. They have only had one since he's been a Warrior. It came after they won the 2017 NBA Finals. They met in the locker room to settle one major issue: where would they celebrate winning the championship? They settled on Aria in Las Vegas.
No fights. No players who can't stand each other. Nobody trying to get the coach fired.
How did they pull this off? A few reasons kept surfacing as members of the franchise were prodded for answers. It's the collection of players they have. It's Kerr's management style and the environment he's created. It's Curry's example that sets the bar. It's Green keeping his finger on the pulse and staying in his teammates' ears. It's the newness of having Durant, still fresh enough to break the monotony. It's veterans like Andre Iguodala, Shaun Livingston and Zaza Pachulia setting a standard of professionalism.
"We've got good guys. Nobody's tripping. A very ego-less group," West said. "In this environment, you can't be mad. I've had to tell the young guys, 'Y'all need to talk to some other people, ask guys what it's like in other environments because this is not normal. You mu'fukkers better be thankful to God.' Shiiiit. For a coach to, even when you're young, sort of give you the freedom to be yourself and develop your own identity — as opposed to saying, 'This is who the fukk you gone be.' I told that to all of them. Damian Jones, Pat (McCaw), whoever else the fukk in here who's young. Those of us who's been to other places — Andre, Shaun, myself — we know this isn't normal. Even Nick Young. He's been saying all year, 'I've never seen nothing like this in my life.' A lot of it is the environment we have here."
It helps to have the best players on the team at this stage of their careers and lives. Of the Warriors' top 10 in total minutes in the regular season, the only player younger than the 28-year-old Green is McCaw, 22. For the playoffs, Kevon Looney, 22, is the youngest to get minutes. The Warriors' best players are either already mature and past destructive youthful behavior, or they've reached the age where they want things that are more substantial.
The conversations in the locker room are a clear indicator of how the Warriors players have graduated past the typical trappings of NBA life. They aren't above rehashing the highlights of a party or bagging on each other like 21-year-olds. But it often gets analytical and philosophical among them. If they are not talking about what the Blazers or Bucks or whoever need to get over the hump, they are overanalyzing what Kanye was really trying to say. They might be debating the validity of hair as a cultural identifier or they might be critiquing the fashion choices of media members, offering advice on how to make the outfit really pop.
These are different guys.
"I think you end up being what the bulk of you are," Green said. "If the bulk of the guys would follow anything, you could possibly get someone who follows a guy the wrong way. But if the bulk of you are pretty self-sufficient, self-confident, competitive guys with matching goals, then that's what you end up being. It's like throwing a punch with one finger sticking out. You gon' break that finger. If the bulk of you are made up of a bunch of good dudes, you're probably gonna have a team full of good dudes because who wants to be the sore thumb sticking out?"
Stephen Curry is the tone-setter for the Warriors' unselfish attitude.
The tone was set by Curry. When he was the team's best player but the fourth- or fifth-highest paid on the team, Curry not allowing that to negatively impact him set a foundation of unselfishness. He doubled down on that by inviting Durant to join their empire.
Perhaps just as important is the tone set by Klay Thompson, who prevents problems by just being "no-maintenance," as Kerr says. Green is the resident counselor.
And Durant, too, is a different breed. An A1 star everywhere he's been, he was willing to join a collection of stars to produce a greater sum.
"Ego is the downfall of every human," Durant said. "When you release that shyt, you start asking more questions like, 'How'd you do that move? I want to learn.' You kind of humble yourself and you look at life as a student. Everybody wants to be a teacher before they learn the whole lesson. That's your ego. I feel like everybody here kind of went through their lumps and learned the game and now they can give their input. That's the proper way to do shyt."