National Basketball Association

How the Golden State Warriors became the NBA's biggest villains

Published Nov. 15, 2016 2:52 p.m. ET

Rob Perez

What the hell happened?

It feels like only yesterday that the Golden State Warriors were “America’s [Basketball] Team.”

The undersized, under-appreciated Stephen Curry was launching threes from Mars, dazzling us with heroic displays of dribbling and distribution. Klay Thompson’s game was spawning as if it was the T-1000 in "Terminator 2" regenerating after being frozen and shattered into 1,000 pieces. Every one or two weeks, Harrison Barnes performed at a level that made you think he legitimately had a chance to become an NBA superstar one day. And Draymond Green … oh, Draymond Green … he was the overachieving, feel-good story of the league — basketball’s Squints when he finally landed Wendy Peffercorn in The Sandlot. Green was an overlooked second-round draft pick who was supposed to be just another victim of the narrative that “trying hard doesn’t mean you can play it to the big leagues” and ultimately turned out to be the X-factor on the best regular-season team ever.

Coming into the 2014-15 NBA season, the entire world knew the Warriors had something. They were fresh off a playoff exit to the Los Angeles Clippers in one of most dramatic first-round series in NBA history. The Warriors may have lost, but there was an “Oh my God this team is going to be insane next season” feeling reminiscent of the 2011 Oklahoma City Thunder, when we knew Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook and James Harden were all perennial superstars approaching their prime.

We had no idea just how far Golden State would take this.

The Warriors showed up to opening night in October 2014 with an attitude reminiscent of Tony Montana daring his kingpin opponents to introduce themselves to his little friend.

By the end of the season, Steph Curry had broken his own NBA record for three-pointers made in a regular season (286). Klay Thompson had set the league standard for most points in one quarter (37). The two Splash Brothers had made more threes than any NBA duo ever (525). Steve Kerr had won more regular-season games than any NBA rookie coach ever (67). Steph Curry won the MVP.

They were must-see-TV. Every point they scored was an original, different concept. They left their opponents struggling to find words to describe what just happened to them, like 15 Papa Docs at The Shelter. They broke the way basketball had been played for the previous 50 years. Everything they did was an anomaly.

Did they got some help along the way? Yeah, but in the end they were champions.

One title wasn’t enough – the now wildly popular Golden State Warriors weren’t done captivating the basketball world. All of the records the franchise shattered en route to the 2015 championship were re-shattered again last year.

Steph Curry became the first unanimous MVP in NBA history.

They won the most games in one NBA regular season ever.

This team was just so much damn fun. They were the video game NBA Jam but in real-life form. If you missed one of their games, the FOMO that settled in was on par with missing that awesome high school party because you were busy working.

But then, the veneer eventually started to look a little less shiny the closer we looked.

We learned how Andrew Bogut had his “championship ring fitted for [his] middle finger, so they [the Clippers] can kiss that one.”

We learned that Curry can be petty – trolling his competition with an "I apologize for us being healthy, I apologize for us playing who was in front of us. I apologize for all the accolades we received as a team and individually. I'm very, truly sorry, and we'll rectify that situation this year" cynical apology.

We learned that his wife was capable of being just as salty as her husband.

We learned that Green is either intentionally or unintentionally the NBA’s Ndamukong Suh – an emotional player who, on multiple occasions, commits “accidental” “dirty” acts during gameplay.

We watched cockiness crack a chair over the head of greatness when the ref wasn’t looking.

I know Steph Curry didn't do this last night. pic.twitter.com/BgIst8oRIj
— Dynamics • £ (@theDYNAMICS) October 6, 2015

We watched basketball’s Verbal Kint turn to the dark side before our very eyes.

This isn’t to say that “winning with class” should be some sort of requirement for proper victory. The NBA has had its fair share of arrogant superstars – the Kobe Bryants, Michael Jordans, Kevin Garnetts, Allen Iversons of the world -- beloved by mainstream NBA fans because they played with arrogance and embraced it. They wanted to be the bad guys. They wanted to get booed at every away arena they played in.

Let’s be honest: We loved [to hate] them for it. A good heel is always necessary to a dramatic plot, but the same can’t be said for those who find themselves in that role and don’t want to accept the recognition.

This is where the Warriors come in. All-of-the-sudden they have become “The ‘Corporate’ Rock” from the late 1990’s WWE – putting on this ridiculous façade that everyone knew was complete and utter bull crap.

While the parallels between the Warriors and NBA villains of the past share many common ideals – the main difference this time is that the Warriors don’t want to win the crowd back. The Bad Boy Pistons didn’t want you to root for them either, but they made it very clear to the media and opposing arenas that they were OK with that. The inaugural ‘Big Three’ Miami Heat literally walked on to the stage and told you they were going to win not one, not two, not three, not four, not five, not six but seven championships even though not one of them would be playing for the Heat six years later. We hated these teams the same way Vince Vaughn felt about Will Farrell in Anchorman: “I hate you Ron Burgundy, but damnit do I respect you …”

As of this moment, we can’t say the same for the 2016-17 Golden State Warriors. Even after losing the title to the Cavaliers – the one that they gave their everything to obtain – they continue to portray this mentality of apathy toward poor approval ratings that is nothing short of infuriating. Think of how much audiences would have hated the ending of Anchorman if Will Farrell said “whatever, don’t care …” and just walked off stage after Vaughn’s confession.

No need to speculate – the Warriors did it to themselves:

Their commitment to excellence while maintaining this self-appointed “our poop doesn’t stink” mentality will now result in basketball fans worldwide hate-watching their day-to-day as if it’s an episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians. We want nothing more than to look away, but we can’t. There is something just so cynically gluttonous about watching the Scott Disicks of the NBA emasculate yet another middle-class peasant because their medium rare filet mignon was too pink and there’s nothing the victim can do about it.

The fact that these ideals attracted the consensus second-best player of this generation, Kevin Durant, to leave the only franchise he had ever played for … the community where he had built so much positive rapport in … the city that supported his every move en route to superstardom … a roster that was a legitimate championship contender as already constructed … all to prioritize winning a ring above anything else as the climax of the Warriors’ heel turn.

The emotions of waking up on July 4th and reading the news about Durant could only be described as Obi Wan distraughtly screaming at Anakin on the lava beaches of Mustafar – “YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE!!!!! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DESTROY THE SITH, NOT JOIN EM!!!!!”

The reason we all fell in love with the Warriors these past two years was how they single-handedly ignited an NBA revolution. Teams are now experimenting with putting versatile swingmen at point guard (Giannis Antetokounmpo, Ben Simmons) as a part of the small ball revolution that the Warriors perfected. The traditional NBA center became an endangered species overnight. At the thought of teams pulling up from 30 feet with 15 seconds on the shot clock and it actually working, basketball analytics philosophers are face-melting like the German who drinks out of the wrong cup at the end of Indiana Jones.

Now it feels like they sucker-punched the purity out of everything that attracted us in the first place.

The Warriors want to be remembered for their record, rings and banners only. There’s nothing wrong with that -- the San Antonio Spurs have been executing it perfectly for two decades straight now. But the joy that defined their legacy as basketball innovators now seems somewhat tainted by arrogance and a potential identity struggle as Durant enters the starting five.

They are the heroes that fans deserve, but a new brand of villain the NBA needs.