In the Golden State Warriors win over the New Orleans Pelicans, the injured Stephen Curry didn’t play and that always sends a little cold wind through Dub Nation. It’s not panic, not yet, but it’s the kind of quiet that creeps in when you watch a legend start to feel the calendar tug on his jersey. He’s getting older and we know he’s taken a thousand falls while carrying a dynasty on ankles that have seen more prayer than tape.
New Pelican and former Warriors first round pick Jordan Poole didn’t play either, though his absence has a different kind of shadow to it now. The kid who was supposed to keep the Splash glow alive is on the Pelicans bench, watching the team he once electrified, still orbiting the punch that everyone pretends we’ve all moved past even though it dimmed the whole room when it happened.
Klay’s been fighting his own battle too, trying to stitch together a new version of himself in a league that doesn’t pause for your recovery arc. So suddenly all three of the Warriors’ guard pillars were out at the same time. Steph hurting. Poole gone. Klay searching. And the court looking strangely… available.
That kind of vacancy creates a different kind of night. Not destiny. Not a passing-of-the-torch ceremony with dramatic lighting. Just a simple, unavoidable truth: somebody has to step in. Moses Moody walked in with the calm of a guy who’s been stretching in the wings this whole time. 11 points, 2 boards, 2 assists, 2 steals, and the vibe of someone who color-codes his responsibilities. No extra flair, no need for applause, just good basketball played with a steady heart.
Podziemski handled the responsibilities like he was born with a clipboard under his arm. He tallied fifteen points, five rebounds, six assists, and zero turnovers in thirty-three minutes. Zero!!! He was Running the team alongside Jimmy Butler without the usual safety nets. He played like he’d been waiting for this exact situation to show up and quietly whispered, finally.
And then Gary Payton II showed up like someone plugged the arena into a generator. Nineteen points and eleven rebounds off the bench, four of them offensive, with the audacity of a six-two guard rebounding like he had a personal vendetta against the Pelicans frontcourt. 11 boards off the bench for a small guard is pure kinetic chaos. WHO DOES THAT. GP2 does it, because the game bends differently when he gets involved. Every loose ball becomes a 50-50 he treats like an 80-20. Every possession feels like he’s trying to rip the rhythm out of the other team’s hands. New Orleans absolutely left the court wondering how the smallest guy ended up stealing their lunch money and their rebounds in the same night.
And that’s where the narrative actually lives. Steph out and aging. Poole watching from the wrong bench after the punch that bent the team’s trajectory. Klay still chasing the version of himself that once lit up the world. Their absence cracked open a lane for a different kind of guard identity. One that doesn’t maybe splash from thirty feet but digs into possessions and squeezes value out of every second.
Moody, Podz, and GP2 combined for only three turnovers all night. They won without the glitter, without the mythology, without the old rhythm that made the league tremble. They won by grinding, by being irritating, by turning effort into momentum. If this is the shape of Warriors basketball when the legends aren’t there to rescue it, the future might not shine like the old days, but it still hums. It still works. And it still wins in its own stubborn way.
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