On Klay Thompson, Monta Ellis and our collective idiocy

When you were younger, you were an idiot.

Don’t worry; it’s fine. We all were.

Chances are, you’re aware of your past idiocy. You’ve accepted the lack of perspective that formed your earlier beliefs wasn’t really your fault. You get older, your thoughts get more complex, you see things differently, and you realize that most of what you thought was ridiculous.

Though, if you’re not aware of your own previous idiocy, I have bad news: You might still be young (which is fine) or you might still be an idiot (which is less fine).

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And that’s how I’d like to start my analysis of the things Klay Thompson’s 60-point game made me remember about Monta Ellis—who guarded (in the loosest possible sense of the term) Thompson and once, when I was younger, represented so much of what I and a great many other idiots thought was good about basketball.

A 2005 second-round pick of out of Lanier high school in Jackson, Mississippi, Ellis was an immediately unusual figure if only because he was nothing like the project big man or NBA-bodied superwing typically bypassing college in those days.

He was lithe and soft-spoken and painfully shy.

But sweet fancy Moses, could he run.

The startling athleticism was obvious right away. In his early days, Ellis, would accelerate past sprinting teammates and opponents with the ball. He would slither around the court and, with the tiniest openings, uncoil and explode.

It was Iversonian, minus the wingspan and handle.

In those very early days, Ellis even showed defensive promise. Though unimaginable now, a dozen years into his career, there was once a hungry hustle on both ends that, at the time, hinted at a dominant on-ball point guard defender. Ellis’ size wouldn’t have allowed for more than that, but hey, it was something.

Warriors fans (like me, idiots all) adored him as he played a bit role during Baron Davis’ renaissance, and they loved him even more when Golden State became his team.

Never mind that the Warriors were consistently awful with Ellis leading the way, or that he abandoned defense upon establishing himself as a top scoring option, or that his 3-point shot never developed, or that he hamstrung the franchise with a moped accident that resulted in an ugly suspension, or that he wound up impeding Stephen Curry’s progress, or that…well, or the 1,000 other things, in hindsight, that revealed Ellis to be an aesthetically appealing but ultimately damaging player.

This is where idiocy comes back in.

Because for Warriors fans who’d never really known success—a generation grew up barely remembering the modest victories of Run TMC and experiencing nothing but heartbreak from Chris Webber’s ill-fated rookie cameo in 1992-93 until Ellis’ eventual trade in the middle of 2011-12—this was as good as it got.

The devotion to an inefficient, one-way talent was, in hindsight, shocking. It was an egregious kind of “any port in a storm” groupthink. Many defected from Ellis’ side toward the end, mostly as Curry’s contrasting game suggested there were more worthwhile things to cling to. But Ellis retained an overwhelmingly supportive majority right up to and beyond the moment he was traded.

Remember this?

That happened because Warriors fans believed moving Ellis for Andrew Bogut, which ushered in the Curry-Thompson backcourt and put the franchise’s focus on defense for the first time in decades, was a mistake.

Remember: idiocy. Excusable idiocy, sure, because Warriors fans didn’t know what a quality big man looked like, and they definitely didn’t know how efficient lead scoring options worked. But idiocy.

In a way, the foolishness of an immature fan base  is quaint. It doesn’t know any better. When you don’t win, and can’t even imagine what winning is supposed to resemble, the guy who performs two or three breathtaking athletic feats and can score 30 points in a game is your best guess.

And when that guy is also a pretty good embodiment of the all-offense-and-screw-everything-else ethos of the relatively successful Don Nelson years, he’s as good as you can imagine it getting.

Thompson’s 60 points in 29 minutes is an odd springboard for a discussion of Ellis’ flaws, a misguided fanbase and the embarrassing realizations of hindsight because it was a sterling individual effort filled with highlight moments. Those are the things Ellis once offered.

But those points weren’t just a dude going off like Ellis used to. They were efficient. They were facilitated by loads of assists in a functional system. They were met with jubilant teammate reactions. They were, as much as anything, the result of a franchise investing in the right players and prioritizing the right things.

They were what happens when an organizational culture and collective basketball intellect develops that, now, wouldn’t put a player like Ellis on the floor, let alone entrust him with leadership and alpha dog duties.

Monta Ellis was everything Warriors fans thought they wanted.

Thompson and the team whose formation began with Ellis’ exit are more than those same fans could have ever imagined.