(The team has one, and the Hampton Five—Green, Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, Andre Iguodala, and Kevin Durant, the five guys that were in the Hamptons in the summer of 2016 to recruit KD—has another.) He wants to relay something that Houston Rockets GM Daryl Morey had said in an interview, reacting to the Warriors' title. We have something up our sleeve.”“What the fuck are you talking about? “They are really trying to rethink their whole strategy”—here he bumps a table repeatedly with his hand for emphasis, getting excited—“because teams know they don’t have a fucking clue.”“That’d never been done! “They don’t come out and hit twenty-four threes and they’re swept. It’s pretty fucking sick to see how everybody is just in a fucking panic about what to do. If I never win another championship, I will forever be called: Draymond Green, NBA fucking champion.” quick—particularly one in which 93% of general managers expect you to repeat.
The team had texted it to each other: “They are not unbeatable. You sit back and think, like, these motherfuckers, they know. And Green would later belie his own assuredness, bringing up the 1990’s Bulls (who won six titles in eight years) and the 1950’s/60’s Celtics (eleven in thirteen) before pointing out that the Warriors “really haven’t done shit.”In order to put together a similarly historic run, they’ll have to avoid what Pat Riley coined the “Disease of Me,” a virus liable to spread on a team of all-stars, when there are less touches, shots, and credit for those who’ve come to expect frequent doses of each.
Minutes after that Finals collapse, sitting at his locker, he texted Kevin Durant: “See what we’re missing. Make it happen.” But it was weeks until that seed could grow into Kevin Durant in a Warriors uniform.
So, in the meantime, he had to take refuge in the words of a guy he thought could best understand him: the man who, outside of Michael Jordan, is considered the “I was going through all that shit with the media and with the kicks and I was fucked up,” Green says.
“Some would say an asshole.”As Green has exploded into NBA stardom over the last three years, he’s earned that reputation through some combination of on-court antics—the three now infamous below-the-belt shots from the 2016 playoffs; the technical-earning tantrums; his signature flexing celebration—and the trash he talks to everyone, from pine-riding Paul Pierce to the entire city of Cleveland to Conor Mc Gregor.
If a game devolves into a circus (say, like Game 4 of of the last two Finals series), you’re most likely to see Green in the center ring, arms extended in the air, palms opening and closing like a hungry baby in a high chair, eager to be spoon-fed boos and “Draymond sucks! The great irony of this antagonism, of course, being that you don’t scream at the top of your lungs about someone who actually sucks. “The majority of the time I'm passionate enough.
I got good grades and I graduated college, and I'm never in trouble. Getting a fucking tech is getting a tech—it's basketball. When his mom got the call, she proceeded to throw everything out of his room: his stereo, his T. She gave his game system—which she separately had to make him quit playing because he was such a sore loser—to the daycare her mom ran.are with you 24/7.” To listen to Green tell it, part of that becoming a man meant pivoting, from a man who cared what people thought to realizing it didn’t really matter.When he says he thinks “every person is two people: the person that everyone sees, and the person inside,” I ask what he wants us to know about the person inside that we don’t get to see.You know what happened next: Green was suspended for Game 5 (which Cleveland won), the fateful seesaw tipped back the Cavs’ way, and—meme-ified for eternity—the Warriors blew a 3-1 lead.So, like any good down-in-the-dumps Millennial, Green turned to his smartphone.