SB Nation User Blog: Adam Lauridsen

Golden Break: Waving, Not Drowning

Adam Lauridsen — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 06:52:09 -0000

With roughly four minutes left in the fourth quarter Sunday night, someone in the upper deck of the Arena decided to stand up and sit down. Then he or she got some friends to do it, then the next row, then the next section. Before you could say "Kelenna Azubuike shooting two," the Arena witnessed its first NBA basketball fan wave since well before Monta Ellis was born. As the wave crested somewhere around section 122, Kelenna bricked the first free throw and hit the second. The wave crashed to shore with the resumption of the game a few seconds later. In its wake, however, we've been left with a question tugging at us like the cold Pacific undertow: what's happened to the Arena crowd?

For those sick of this topic and ready to move onto the Spurs, here's the short answer: we're victims of our own success. Now move along and get started on figuring out how Kelenna Azubuike is going to guard Tim Duncan. For those willing to linger for a few more minutes on what it means in April 2008 to be a warm body in the Oracle Arena, here's what I think we're witnessed over the past year.

In March 2007, Warriors fans were a hardy, loyal, world-beaten bunch. We'd had our hopes dashed so many times that we'd come not only to accept it, but to revel in it. Warriors fans were the ones who would root for their team no matter what the odds or the margin of defeat. When Paul Wong rolled out his first We Believe sign early in March 2007, I'm guessing it provoked as many cynical chuckles as fervent cheers. Then, as the 2006-07 Warriors gradually started rolling towards the playoffs and picking up speed, something totally unexpected happened: all of those starry-eyed, die-hard Warriors fans went from laughing stock to toast of the town. After so many years of losing, the fan base had been whittled down to a rabid, committed few -- there for the love of basketball, Bay Area sports, or both. When we were unleashed on the NBA playoffs, the joy was visceral and pure. It didn't matter whether the "We Believe" sentiment was stuck on a t-shirt with a Comcast logo or picked up as a David Stern talking point, the fans during the playoff push and Mavs series were part of something special and unforgettable.

What happened next is a quick lesson in consumer culture. With story upon story lauding the Warriors and their fans, people took notice. They watched games, bought tickets, and joined the crowd. It looked like fun, and everyone likes fun. Some of those new fans immediately took it upon themselves to scour the internet for information on the team, watch every minute of every game, and cheer every Ws' basket as if it could be their last. Other new fans spent the first quarter of games standing in line for mixed drinks, screamed the loudest during the pizza give-away, and asked you to sit down when you gave Monta or Baron or Jackson a standing o. We can bitch and moan about the way those fans behaved (and still behave), but the problem doesn't lie in their newness. We were all new fans once. We're all riding on this bandwagon together. Some of us are more recent passengers, sitting closer to the sides. Some of us are trapped in the center and will be clutching to broken boards long after the shaky contraption lands in a ditch.

Hokey images aside, the closest analogy to the old / new fan debate is gentrification: crappy neighborhood X gets resurrected by dedicated individuals wanting to improve their home. As the neighborhood improves, others see what it has to offer and want a piece of the action. When the new people move in, they can either blend with the neighborhood and contribute to its improvement or set themselves off from the community, defeating the very process from which they sought to benefit. If there's limited space in the neighborhood, an even tougher process begins by which each new arrival with money to pay for rising property costs signals the departure of one of the old guard, responsible for the value-adding turnaround. If this is our situation in the Arena - every new fan forces out an old dedicated one - then it's a pretty bleak outlook for those of us left in the stands.

Fortunately, I don't buy that the gentrification analogy holds entirely. It works so far as both processes are inevitable. As the Warriors become more successful, more people will like them and want to be a part of the experience. It also works in the sense that those "new to the block" should be judged by their actions. Are you so unaware of what's happening on the court that you're doing a wave during crucial free throws - distracting our own player? Are you imposing your own idea of when people should stand up or sit down at a basketball game without taking a moment to look around to see whether everyone else in the Arena is standing up and cheering? Or did you just buy your tickets hoping to sell them off for a profit, maybe to a Lakers fan like the one in front of me last Monday night who offered to knife me when I met his Kobe MVP chants with boos. If you fall into the above categories, I have a bone to pick with you (but no, I won't knife you). Otherwise, welcome to crowd. Cheer early, cheer often, just don't cheer during our free throws.

The gentrification analogy still holds up on the economic end. As the Warriors eased into almost-certain sellouts during the second half of this season, seats in the Arena became a scarce commodity. Chris Cohan knows more about supply and demand curves than jump shots and crossovers, so I had no doubt that the surge in attendance would soon push ticket prices with it. Season ticket holders got the bad news last month. Single game buyers better start saving their pennies for the fall. Some fans won't be able to afford to go to games after this year. It's a sad fact not worth denying.

That said, the measure of a fan has never been his or her ability to get into the Arena or stadium or ballpark. Whether you can drop money on a ticket -- or even live in the same city or state as the Arena -- says nothing about your love for the team. The community of fans isn't limited like a neighborhood or a stadium. Whether it's wearing your team's logo with pride, screaming at your computer for the stat-tracker to update, or rambling on for way too long on blogs like this, there are endless ways to represent. One more person joining in doesn't bump another out. We believe in the same team.

Adam Lauridsen blogs regularly at Fast Break: the San Jose Mercury News' Warriors Fan Blog.

Golden Break: The Trade, One Year Later

Adam Lauridsen — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 09:50:13 -0000

The island of Manhattan for beads and mirrors. The Louisiana Territory for $23 million and change. Stephen Jackson, Al Harrington, Sarunas Jasikevicius and Josh Powell for Mike Dunleavy, Troy Murphy, Ike Diogu, and Keith McLeod.

OK, so maybe the first two steals were a little more lopsided than the third one, but the founders of New York City and Thomas Jefferson didn't have to worry about salary cap restraints. One year ago today the Warriors pulled off a trade that can't be summed up in individual statistics, cap figures, or even wins and losses. On January 17, 2007, we traded the NBA's dunce cap for a rabbit's foot, and we've been letting it ride ever since.

I know there are Pacer fans that think The Trade helped their team. Even before Wednesday's win over the Warriors, they had a pretty strong argument: Jackson had worn out his welcome, Dunleavy fit a need, and Ike Diogu still may someday be dominant if David Stern implements the long rumored 6 foot 8 inch height cap for the league (As for Troy Murphy, please direct any suggestions as to potential contributions to Jim O'Brien c/o the Indiana Pacers). Even if the Trade made the Pacers a better team, I'd still argue that the Warriors got a steal. Here's why:

Mike Dunleavy and Troy Murphy came to embody a decade's worth of Warriors' futility. They were the empty vessels in which we placed all our dashed hopes. After all the years of losing out on high picks despite horrible records, Dunleavy became our loftiest reach into the lottery since Joe Smith. He shouldn't be blamed for failing to live up to expectations, but you similarly can't blame fans for expecting our highest pick in years to make the biggest impact. Likewise, after years of watching free agents run from Golden State's money like Carmelo Anthony retreating from a sucker-punch, it's understandable that fans would be frustrated with the thought of Troy Murphy frowning his way up and down the court for the next four years earning a hundred grand a night. Gilbert leaves, Mike and Troy stay. Baron and JRich pull up lame, Mike and Troy plod along. By the time January 2007 rolled around, the Warriors looked as if they were on another slow descent into months of garbage time. We had become the Los Angeles Clippers of a new era. The team was run like a permanent expansion franchise. We wore our fandom as a badge of courage, not a mark of honor.

Then Mullin pulled the trigger. I remember getting pinged over IM at work by my then-contact at the San Jose Mercury News the morning of the trade. Murphy and Dunleavy were gone. My head started to spin like Nellie's noggin after too much good scotch. Even in my most blindly optimistic moments I had only imagined that the Warriors would be able to ditch one of the guys. To have them both gone in a flash was an instant case of addition by subtraction, in terms of both basketball and cap dynamics, not to mention mojo and swagger. It was the type of move that only happened at the Warriors' expense, not in their favor. Stephen Jackson and Al Harrington both fit with Nelson's style of play. Even Sarunas and Josh looked at that point like they might be contributors (I'll blame that on the post-trade head-spinning). It was an unfamiliar experience for Warriors fans. It looked like the basketball gods were actually smiling down upon us. With a new coach, a new year, and now a new third of a roster, it felt as if our luck was finally about to change.

Having been burned annually by my high hopes for Warriors' moves, I immediately took my overwhelmingly positive gut feeling as a clear sign that things were about to get much worse. Even as I was typing about how well Al and Jax would run with this team, part of me expected Harrington's knee to explode in the lay-up line and Jackson to combine Chris Webber's maturity with Latrell Sprewell's anger management. But here's where the Warriors ended up with such a steal. For the first time in over a decade, the Warriors made a move that ended up far, far better than even their most optimistic fans imagined. The Pacers may have upgraded their team. We upgraded our worldview. Whatever chemical reaction sparked up when Baron, Stephen, Jason, Al, Monta, Andris and Matt finally took the court together, it was far more potent that our loss-numbed senses could handle. After years of slumping under even the lowest projections, it was as if the team couldn't restrain itself from smashing whatever underestimations were lobbed its way. Miraculously quick returns from injuries, madcap playoff runs, unbelievable upsets, and a nightly refutation of the laws of physics: the Warriors had broken out of a decade long rut with The Trade and, set free, simply refused to conform to anyone's predictions or expectations.

One year out, it's far too early to write the definitive history of The Trade. New ruts have started to form and the fresh faces brought along different problems (someone please mention to Stephen that missing your first 9 threes doesn't make the 10th more likely to go in). Still, I can't deny that something has changed. After years of taking comfort in consistent mediocrity, I've entered a whole new, uncertain world since January 17, 2007: I expect the Warriors to win.

Read Adam regularly at Fast Break, the San Jose Mercury News' Warriors Fan Blog

Opting Out of the All-Star Game

Adam Lauridsen — Tue, 18 Dec 2007 08:27:31 -0000

The first All-Star votes are in and the Warriors are dead last. I couldn't be happier. The NBA regularly salutes Warriors' fans as the league's finest. A large part of the reason why is because we understand what's important in the game. We cheer louder for court burns than we do free t-shirts. And we don't waste our time stuffing the ballot box for a global marketing beauty pageant. All the beauty we need is being delivered nightly from the fingertips of men five men on the court, thrilled to be identified not for their individual vote counts, but for what they do together as Warriors.

Jerry Stackhouse ahead of Baron Davis? Erick Dampier pulling down four times as many votes as Andris Biedrins? Dirk Nowitzki leaving Stephen Jackson in the dust? Fine by me. All the All-Star appearances in the world won't erase from Dirk's memory what Jax did to him last May. And I'm pretty sure that Stephen wouldn't trade his barrage of three pointers in Game 6 for a trip to New Orleans this year. Why should he? The type of rapture shared between players and fans in Oakland that night hasn't been found at the All-Star Game for a long time, if ever. So given that our synapses are a little numb from an overdose of glorious basketball after years of neglect, its perfectly understandable that Warriors fans couldn't care less about hanging chads in David Stern's annual election.

In my experience there are three types of players that snag All-Star votes. The first are the global brands. The LeBrons, Kobes, KGs, and Yaos. They get votes from across the league (and world) because they're the players people will pay to see. If you're going to have an All-Star game, it should be filled with these types of players. The second category covers the international niche stars. If anyone from Turkey votes, it's a safe bet Hedo's getting their support. The same rules likely apply for Yao and Yi. I have no beef with these votes. The NBA is an international game and anything that brings more of that flavor into the mix should be encouraged. It's the third category where I have a problem. Let's call these the "compensation" votes. Jason Terry? Shane Battier? Jerry Stackhouse? These are guys who, based upon their play, have no right entering the state of Louisiana on All-Star Weekend. But come early December fans of the Mavs and Rockets seem to have made voting early and often for their players, no matter how mediocre, a rally cry. It's a bit like "We Believe," except replace the monumental goal of the first playoff appearance in 13 years with a meaningless exhibition game and the grass-roots movement of t-shirts and signs with empty corporate gestures. I'm no doctor - and I certainly don't pretend to know what goes on in the minds of many Texans - but it seems to me that such fervent devotion to casting All-Star votes may closely correlate with dashed expectations in games that actually matter. If you're increasingly having trouble finding something to cheer for in the games that count, you might as well try your hardest to cheer for your players in one that doesn't.

Ultimately, when stuffing the ballot isn't voter fraud, voting is a fraud. It's no great insight that the All-Star game is nothing more than a popularity contest. The absence of Warriors on the list seems to suggest, however, that it's a measure of a certain type of popularity. Warriors fans love their players as much as any NBA fanbase at the moment. But because we love them for what they do as a team - and how all the crazy, diverse, and rebellious personalities come together to form something greater than the parts - we can't really be bothered to send them individually to the All-Star game. I don't need to see Baron catch a sloppy pass from Tracy McGrady, then blow by non-existent defense by Shaq. I'd rather see Baron resting his beaten body on a beach for a few days away from the sharp elbows and rough landings of NBA competition. In that spirit, if you must vote, I recommend a straight ticket of Utah Jazz. We'll be seeing them Tuesday February 19, two days after the festivities in New Orleans. I'd hate for Boozer to be tired.

Read Adam regularly at Fast Break, the San Jose Mercury News' Warriors Fan Blog.

Golden Break: The Jackson Effect

Adam Lauridsen — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 06:49:42 -0000

Stephen Jackson's return made all the difference for the Warriors. Things get trickier, however, when you delve into just what Jackson brings that makes this team so dangerous. Make no mistake, though, the "Jackson Effect" is very real. Here's how it breaks down in the numbers.

Stephen Jackson brings tremendous intangibles to the Warriors - leadership, focus, determination, and a little bit of danger, among other traits. If we could track stats in those areas, Jax would be all over the NBA leaders. Unfortunately, it's hard to put up digits for everything Jackson does for the team. There are some stats, however, that provide a rough outline of just what a difference he makes on the court. Tim Kawakami had a great post recently on Jackson's +/- numbers, which gives a hint at just how much he means to the team. This is my attempt to get an even better grasp on how Cap'n Jack steers the ship.

To get a sense of the Jackson Effect I tracked 7 categories for the pre- and post-suspension periods: points allowed, points scored, opponent FG percentage, our FG percentage, Ws' assists, Ws' steals, and Ws' turnovers. The mix of stats gives a glimpse as to what the team managed in terms of defense, offense, and ball movement. One side of the numbers surprised me, but the other made perfect sense.

Jackson came to the Warriors known for his shooting touch (both hot and cold). He's won us more games with his hot hand than he's cost us going cold, but I was surprised that his return seemed to make little difference in the Warriors' offensive stats. The Ws scored 109 a night during his 7 games off and have managed 108 a night in the 8 he's been back. They shot .458 in his absence, .455 upon his return. The team moved the ball for 23.1 assists a night during the first 7 games and has averaged 21.1 a night since. As for our turnovers, we've actually been slightly worse since Jackson's return, at 12.4 vs. 13.6.

At first glance all of this seems to suggest that Jackson's triumphant return made little difference in our offensive flow. I don't think it's that simple. Jackson does things offensively that don't show up in the stats. He hits huge shots, as he did against Sacramento. He gets us points when we hit a dry spell, whether it's by getting to the line or finding Andris cutting to the basket for a dunk. He also always keeps the ball moving, which prevents the team from falling into the stagnant game that often triggers runs by opponents. These little things matter most at the margin and show up in our ability to win close games. Despite all that, it doesn't look like Jackson's return did much to change the Warriors' offensive mojo. They may look a little smoother out on the court but, for better or worse, they're not scoring in a dramatically different fashion.

Fortunately, there's more than enough dramatic change to go around on the defensive end. Here, the numbers our staggering. Points allowed before Jackson: 116. After: 100. Opponent shooting percentage before: .531. After: .440. Steals per game for the first 7 outings: 6.5. Upon Jackson's return: 10.1.

Can one man really make this big a difference? Yes and no. Jackson obviously has been the catalyst to the Warriors' miraculous recovery. But to view the change as brought about by just one individual is to miss the most beautiful thing about the 07-08 Warriors. Jackson just provided the missing piece that allowed a much grander machine to run at full speed. This "team" fits the word so perfectly that when you switch out a single player, you get an entirely different beast. They are much more than the sum of their parts when Jackson joins the other 7 players in the rotation. Their individual identities - as we saw during the embarrassing 0-6 start - pale in comparison to the damage they can do collectively, running together like we've seen over the past two weeks.

Still, it would be unfair to miss the things Jackson does to bind this team together. He covers more ground on defense than anyone else on the court, constantly switching to the ball and playing the passing lanes for tips and steals. He barks instructions when plays break down. He pulls guys aside (looking at you MP) when they zig when they should zag. Most of all, he provides the versatility on which Nelson's entire system is based. When Nelson regained Jackson's ability to guard 4 different positions, the Warriors' defense regained the margin for error that allows it to gamble - and come up big - against varied offensive threats like Phoenix and Houston.

Don Nelson's teams are constantly knocked for not caring about defense and simply trying to outscore opponents. That may have been true at some point, but it's not true now. To start the season, we saw something that looked far too much like the Warriors of years past. They gave opponents FasTrak access to the lane, wide open outside shots and endless opportunities to steal close games. With the Jackson Effect, however, the team has developed a stinginess that might make certain owners proud (depending on your take on Atma's recent post).

Ultimately, even if you could lay out stats from Oakland to Port Arthur demonstrating what Jackson means to this team, I'm guessing that the man himself would say that there's only one stat that matters. In wins and losses, the Jackson Effect can't be denied.

Read Adam regularly on Fast Break, the San Jose Mercury News' Warriors Fan Blog.

Golden Break: All I Need to Know I Learned from the Warriors' Media Guide

Adam Lauridsen — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 06:32:03 -0000

The Warriors were kind enough to send me a crisp new 2007-08 media guide. Don't let anyone tell you that the book is just shameless self-promotion for the franchise or a dry compendium of facts and figures. There's gold buried deep in these pages. Since the team hasn't provide much on the court to get excited about in the season's first week. (Remember when Hudson missed the same shot four times in a row? FAN-tastic!) I've pulled together my favorite useless and/or intriguing Warriors facts. Impress your friends with answers to trivia questions that will never be asked.

Matt Barnes led the nation with 28 touchdowns during his senior year at Del Campo High in Sacramento.

Austin Croshere's favorite author is Ernest Hemingway. There are parts of a Farewell to Arms that remind me of the Warriors guarding Boozer in the paint.

If Stephane Lasme wasn't playing basketball, he'd like to be a dentist.

Chris Cohan grew up in Salinas and Los Gatos. He became a Warriors fan when they moved to the west coast in 1962.

Baron Davis is credited with making the longest shot in NBA history: an 89-footer against the Bucks with 0.7 seconds remaining in the third quarter.

The Warriors were 19-3 in 2006-07 when they held opponents under 100 points.

Kelenna Azubuike was the first "Gatorade Call-up" of 2006-07 season. Yes, the NBA has a sponsor for plucking guys from the D-League. No, I don't know if they've landed a company to sponsor guys who get sent down. (Do I smell a GSoM promotion opportunity?)

Kosta Perovic's first car was a 1989 Mitsubishi Montero.

The "midnight blue" on the Warriors' jerseys "represents the purity, loyalty and success of ancient and mythological Warriors." Something to remember when you pick out a shirt tomorrow morning.

Brandan Wright recorded the highest shooting percentage for a freshman (.646) in the history of the ACC. And that's not a shabby history.

This season, the Warriors have an Assistant GM - Pete D'Alessandro (putting his JD to good use) - but no General Manager.

Andris Biedrins is the second Latvian player in NBA history. Give it up for Gundars Vetra (Minnesota, 92-93), Latvian trailblazer.

Don Nelson is second on the list of coaches with 50 win seasons with 13. Only Pat Riley has more (17).

Monta Ellis averaged 38.4 points, 7.9 rebounds, 6.9 assists, and 4.5 steals as a high school senior. He also dropped 72 points on poor Greenwood High.

Patrick O'Bryant majored in Foods and Nutrition at Bradley.

Stephen Silas became an assistant coach with the Hornets when he was 27.

On November 2, 1991, the Warriors scored 88 points in one half against the Sacramento Kings. Rumor has it Nelson was disappointed that the team didn't run more.

Marco Belinelli's trip to the 07 NBA Draft was his first visit to the United States.

Stephen Jackson has played for teams in three foreign countries: Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, and Indiana.

Mickael Pietrus now owns a share of his original French team Pau Orthez. I'm shocked they didn't offer him more than the Warriors' qualifying offer this off-season.

Matt Steinmetz "is on a constant search for the Bay Area's best pickup basketball games."

Al Harrington sang a duet with Rosie O'Donnell, "Anything You Can Do," when he appeared on her show as part of the McDonald's All-American team. Please let this be on YouTube - and why hasn't it been on the Arena scoreboard?

The longest losing streak in franchise history is 17 (12/20/64-1/26/65). 0-3? I'm not worried yet.

Golden Break: Respect 08

Adam Lauridsen — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 15:03:46 -0000

On February 28, after losing 113-83 to the Chicago Bulls, Don Nelson said "it doesn't look like it's going to work out this year." On May 3, the Golden State Warriors beat the Dallas Mavericks in Game 6 to seal the biggest upset in NBA playoff history. "We Believe" went from a lone homemade sign, to a punch-line among die-hards, to a local rallying cry, to a national catch phrase. It's hard to say that Bay Area pro basketball was reborn last spring (because it never truly flat-lined), but the roars of the Arena woke it from a long, dark night. So, now what?

We've spent the entire off-season talking about the changes and challenges ahead for this team. It's worth spilling at least a few thousand words over what's ahead for us: the fans. Not that anyone has forgotten, but let's set the stage with a quick rundown of the last few months in the Golden State.

The night of May 3 was the greatest moment to be a Warriors fan since the team hoisted its championship trophy in 1975. There aren't enough sports clichés to capture how Game 6 felt. I remember the small, frail woman in the row behind me - in her mid 60s - repeatedly stringing together an assortment of words you can't say on television with "Mark Cuban," "Dirk," and "the entire state of Texas." When it was over - after the Jackson threes, the Barnes dunk, the Richardson scream, the Pietrus crowdsurfing - I remember high-fiving fellow fans who would have been complete strangers but for the names on their ill-fitting jerseys. Davis, Richardson, Ellis, but also Mullin, Jamison, Webber, and even Sprewell. It was as if the whole extended family - even those members long gone - was back in the building to celebrate. I couldn't field congratulatory phone calls in the parking lot thanks to the steady pops of fireworks (or were those gunshots?). I woke up the next morning with ringing ears, no voice, a throbbing head, and a sense of total accomplishment. Past Warriors players suffered through losses only for their years on the team. As fans, however, we never got traded away to winners. We might not have been out on the court sinking baskets, but we rightfully took pride in our endurance in the stands and glued to our radios and TVs.

Beating the Mavs was good for a two-day buzz. Then reality started to scrape the shine off our newfound glory. We had flat legs (and free throws) in Utah. Next came ugly fouls and laughable (literally) technicals, topped off with a creeping sense that lightening wasn't going to strike twice. Still, even in defeat, there was excitement. I was ready for the 08 season to start the moment Utah won the right to be cannon fodder for the Spurs. The loss seemed like a bump in the road, not the end of what we'd started.

Then June rolled around and things got weird. Mullin and company replaced Jason Richardson's broad shoulders with Brandan Wright's big ears. Only time will tell whether the move made the team better. But we recognized instantly that Jason would be missed for far more than the digits in the box scores. In July, some people confused the Warriors for their fantasy basketball team. They were sorely disappointed when the opposing owner hit the reject button on their proposed 5-for-1 swap. Things got heavier in August with lots of money talk. When the dust settled at the end of September, Foyle was gone and Nellie was back. Now, we're left with a team that looks just enough like last year's squad to remind us how great they were, but not close enough for us to start printing playoff tickets. This uncertainty worked its way out in strange ways. I hope never again to care about preseason basketball as much as I have this year.

With real basketball just around the corner, the wait's almost over. The question is what are we waiting for? If we're expecting another run like last year, we're going to be bitterly disappointed. What we saw (and heard) during the spring was years in the making. We bottled up a decade plus of frustration, shook it manically with an all-or-nothing sprint to the finish line, and then popped the cork by knocking off the best team in basketball. You only get to be the long shot once. The Warriors aren't lovable losers anymore. On the shock and awe scale, we should expect less from this team in 08.

When it comes to winning basketball games, however, we should expect more. If I had to guess (and I do, because I'm as new at this Warriors-as-winners business as everyone else), I'd say the year ahead holds subtler pleasures. I'll have less of an us-versus-the-world chip on my shoulder now that we're on national cable more than the Toronto Raptors and people actually know where "Golden State" plays. I can swell with pride each time the NBA replays in one of its constant league promos Baron's destruction of AK-47 or the pain on Cuban's face. (David Stern, try a new punishment next time Cuban gets out of line: make him rewatch the Warriors' series start to finish.) There might never be another post-game interview beer for Nelson or pre-game pat-down for Jackson, but after the 2007 training camp tattoo exhibition, I have no doubts that this group will always find new ways to entertain. The last 20 games of this season aren't likely be as thrilling as The Run, but the first 62 should be a whole lot better than what DunMurphy and endless injuries gave us last year. If we make the playoffs, there's no way it'll be a bigger rush than shocking the world. But then again, I don't have the faintest idea what it feels like to win a second round series. I'd sure like to find out.

Success creates expectations. Rising to those expectations earns respect. And for a team still dismissed by much of the NBA as a fluke, respect seems like a damn good thing to play for in 08.

Read Adam regularly at the San Jose Mercury News' Warriors Fan Blog: Fast Break.