ince this Warriors dreadnought first took shape, since the Lacob-and-Guber-era franchise began molding the young core of players into the most talented quintet of ballers the galaxy has ever seen, we've been blessed with a run of sustained excellence and joy that is almost unparalleled in modern sports history.
Once again, during the off-season, we confront the most first-world of first-world sports problems.
Two years ago, it was: how will we incorporate KD? There's only 1 ball. Where's the rim protection? Have they gutted their bench?
This year, the sports narratocracy has settled into a kind of bimodal waffling: have the Warriors ruined the NBA (again) by adding a transcendent talent to a transcendent team (again)? Or will adding DeMarcus Cousins--the bad boy, the Co-King of Techs (along with new teammate Draymond Green, and closely followed by Kevin "King of Ejections" Durant)--poison and destroy the superbly balanced chemistry that has helped the Dubs achieve such dominance? Have they given themselves cancer of the locker room?
Basketball itself is in flux. Steph has changed NBA's offenses; Day Day has quietly but just as surely changed NBA defenses. We, the fans, are lucky enough that two transformational players are on the same team. We've been blessed to watch them play, and reshape the game. The ride has been wild, joyful and we should never take it for granted: it is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Matters beyond the court are in flux, too. Thanks to the internet and social media, we've also been blessed with the ability to learn about them, to see videos of them in their regular lives, to read interviews and breakdowns and statistics about their play. We can Tweet at them, and they may Tweet back. Their flaws, their everyday humanity, is being exposed to the merciless microscope of the internet.
And we've read about the massive winds of change with which Lacob swept the stagnant, frankly terrible old Warriors. Yet for all this access, there is one aspect of the team's culture has not gotten as much notice as, I believe, it warrants.
This quiet side of the Warriors is the primary reason I think DeMarcus will fit right in.
Let's keep it a buck about a few things. Winning absolutely smooths things out. It's easier to give and receive criticism, easier to buy in to the culture, easier to work hard when you see the results every night--and when you can expect more and more and more of the same. It's especially easier when everyone around is demonstrating their commitment to a singular goal, day in, day out, when the superstars are right next to the 14th-man in the gym.
Then there's the Draymond factor; their on-court relationship has been...fun. Loud-mouthed, seemingly-volatile players, going at the game and each other with every watt of power they possess. Off-court, however, their time on the Olympic team seems to have forged a bond that, while fragile, bespoke a level of respect between these two talented, proud men, these two members of an elite fraction of an elite fraternity. I think this will be a chance for Draymond to harness his passion, his fire, in a slightly different way. He'll see the need to rein Boogie in, just as D. West did for him, and just as he occasionally tried to do for KD. Draymond is an extremely intelligent man, devoted to winning, and he will, I believe, channel his efforts to shoring up one one of the team's very few weaknesses: the emotional volatility of its players, their reputations, and their tendency to get T'd up.
Klay, KD and Steph also forged that unique connection, a kind of friendship I doubt us muggles really understand--how would you feel if you had to suspect almost everyone around, even family, of wanting your money, your fame, a ride on your coattails...? How good would you feel to make friends with people who understood you, your journey, your background, your challenges...and liked you for yourself? We all crave that sort of acceptance, and Boogie has hopefully found it here.
But there's an aspect beyond all this that I haven't seen mentioned much. The Warriors core are quietly devout Christians (save for Klay, seemingly,) and the entire team seem to take the injunction to do good works seriously. (See: Juglife, for one.) Each man on the team finds some way to use his wealth or prominence to help others, and it is as beautiful to watch as their basketball.
I don't know if Boogie himself is a practicing Christian, but his history of good works, his off-court behavior, melds perfectly with this ethos of the humble, helpful Warrior. Quietly amazing, that spirit of community--that most admirable urge to help those in need--is one of the pillars of the Warrior's current success. One of the lessons the great Jerry West brought to the Bay is that character matters.
DeMarcus has character. He's a man who takes joy in playing Santa and buying a new car for a deserving family, who takes 200 kids shopping, who shows up in costume and buys groceries for the people of his fanbase. He's a man who seems to 'give back to the community' in more than just the brand-building, PR-stunt kind of way all elite players do these days with varying levels of sincerity. Boogie means it; Boogie takes joy in it.
Learning about his off-court activities painted a very different portrait of Mr. Cousins than the standard narratocracy line--as did looking into his impoverished background. For a man to come from poverty and be so dedicated to helping those in need, rather than simply looking out for himself, is admirable. Boogie also has the maturity, the--there's no other word for it--grace to call for unity and understanding, to befriend a police officer from his hometown after he brushed up against one of the dark truths of being a young, black man in the USA.