Moment of the Decade: We Believe

Today at TSB, we’re each giving our personal moment of the decade in sports. This post was written by Sporting Blog editor Eric Freeman.

For 13 seasons, the Golden State Warriors were an NBA wasteland, a murky haze of failed mid-lottery picks, coaches with beards and dead-on-arrival promises from the front office that things were bound to get better. (Seriously, they once said that a past-his-prime Mookie Blaylock was our ticket to playoff glory.)
Then, in 2007, after a series of fortunate trades, the return of Run-TMC impresario Don Nelson and a playoff-clinching win on the last day of the season (also my birthday, coincidentally), the eighth-seeded Warriors defeated the championship-favorite Dallas Mavericks in the biggest upset in league playoff history.
Taking their slogan from a local restaurant owner’s sign, the We Believe Warriors made a fan out of anyone who tuned into the series (and for those on the opposite coast, anyone who stayed up late enough to watch). They were less a basketball team than a roving band of marauders intent on challenging the assumptions of what made for Winning Playoff Basketball. Any player would shoot at any point in a possession. No one was a particularly good rebounder or on-ball defender. Their best player wore a girdle.

The individual characters were memorable, as well. Nelson, the supposed authority figure, drank cheap beer during press conferences. Bearded Baron Davis realized his potential and became one of the best players in the league, even if only for a few weeks. Stephen Jackson, in the midst of a partial image rehabilitation that still saw him earn regular technicals, was most productive when taking lots of ill-advised threes. Long-suffering Warrior Jason Richardson played out each fan’s catharsis on the court.
The Warriors grabbed the series lead by taking a relative rockfight of an opener in Dallas, but the fans were already excited. By season’s end, Oracle Arena was easily the loudest arena in the league, maintaining and feeding off the team’s energy in an infinite feedback loop of joy.
Game Three was essentially one long party: David Stern was in the house for the first time in years, and the crowd kept the chants going from well before opening tip through the final buzzer. The next game, which I was fortunate enough to attend, was significantly tougher, but a few key moments from Baron -- including a halfcourt prayer at the halftime buzzer to keep things tied -- and a late run carried Golden State to victory. By Game Six, it was clear that the crowd and momentum would be enough to close out the series. With the game well in hand, the fourth quarter became a victory party. Even Adonal Foyle got to play.
The team’s success was short-lived. The next series against the Jazz gave us the Baron Davis dunk, but Carlos Boozer was too strong for the Warriors frontline and Deron Williams was just as good as Davis, if not better. In 07-08, the Warriors won 48 games but missed out on the playoffs in the stacked West. Baron left that offseason, leading to the current Time of Troubles.
What seemed like a revolution at the time of We Believe turned out to be little more than a blip. The running game still plays a huge part in today’s league, but the position-less firestorm of Nellieball holds little currency. The fans still travel to Oracle in numbers that far outpace what you’d expect from such a lousy team, but it’s hard to find the same spark when Nelson won’t even play much of the young talent (read: Anthony Randolph).
Yet today’s failure doesn’t discount the sense of wonder and possibility we all felt three seasons ago. That team still captured a moment and forever expanded our sense of what’s possible on a basketball court. The Warriors didn’t bring us long-term success or even anything more tangible than five playoff wins, but the memories last. At the very least, it’ll sustain the fanbase for the next 13 years of futility. We’ll always have Dallas.↵