This isn’t to say that it’s all puppy dogs and rainbows in the city by the Bay. Green is among the most polarizing NBA figures of the last decade, a defensive maestro who can power his team to the championship one year, then sabotage its title defense by getting suspended mid-Finals the next. His outsize ferocity has been one of the Warriors’ greatest assets, and occasionally their greatest weakness. His punch of Poole last fall nearly broke the Warriors — and by their own telling, put a crimp in their entire season, which ended with a second-round loss to the Lakers.
Still, the team has found ways to navigate the NBA minefield for an entire decade without falling prey to egos, power struggles or personality clashes. As Andre Iguodala recently said to The Ringer’s Logan Murdock, “We’ve been in fantasyland for so long,” but this season was “more like the real NBA.”
At the risk of sounding Pollyannish, it’s in moments of crisis when I’ve sometimes admired the Warriors most. Myers didn’t have to hold that press conference after the punch. Green spoke to the media the day after the video surfaced—for 36 minutes! Most teams would have issued a perfunctory statement, circled the wagons and insisted on “basketball questions only” at the next media availability. But at their most vulnerable moments, the Warriors lead with accountability and (within limits) transparency. They never hide. And where another franchise might have jettisoned Green for any of these infractions, the Warriors stood by him, displaying a loyalty rare in pro sports.
Which brings us back to Myers, and to perhaps the most profound trait of this Warriors dynasty: their humanity. When Green was suspended for Game 5 of the 2016 Finals, Myers watched the game with him, from a suite at the neighboring Oakland Coliseum. And that night in 2019, after Durant ruptured his Achilles? It was as emotional as I’ve ever seen a team executive. (Worth noting: Durant was among the first to reach out to Myers this week, when news of his resignation hit social media.)
And whenever things have felt “more like the real NBA,” Myers always infuses a dose of humanity back into the moment. Two months ago, Myers was at the podium again, this time sitting next to Warriors forward Andrew Wiggins, who had just returned from a two-month absence to attend to a family matter. There was no real reason for Myers to be there, other than as moral support.
In the weeks ahead, the Warriors will have to decide on all those potential contract extensions and roster issues. These are all critical, delicate discussions, and for the first time in a decade it won’t be Myers handling them.
There’s no telling what impact his absence will have, or which strand will come loose next, or how much longer the Warriors are we know them will endure. But if this is the beginning—even the very beginning—of the end of these Warriors, I’m already starting to miss them.
Howard Beck
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