This is a classic Golden State action, though they prefer to do it with Durant posting up and Green in Looney's role here as screener.
"It is their single best play and the hardest one to guard," says Doc Rivers, whose Clippers took the "ignore role players" strategy to an extreme in the first round.
Enes Kanter is nominally on Looney, but he's 15 feet away from Looney so he can help on whatever more dangerous threat might appear.
But Kanter is not really helping on anyone. He's chilling near Green, even though there is no need to swarm Green on the block. Kanter doesn't bother swiping at Looney's entry pass. As Krusty the Clown once barked at another overmatched opponent, "JUST TAKE IT! TAKE THE BALL!"
From there, it's over. Curry rockets around Looney's pick, knowing Kanter has no chance to cover all that ground.
"You have to recognize the guy you are not guarding on purpose is now setting a screen, and run back up, and that is really hard," Rivers says. "You cannot get paralyzed."
It takes a rare combination of alertness, anticipation and speed to toggle in an instant from "ignore" to "pressure" -- as Harkless managed on Green here:
In convincing opponents they need to help so dramatically off every non-shooter -- that a threat could appear anywhere, that you need to be all places at once -- the Warriors mind-trick them into helping on ghosts.
"They cause a lot of confusion,"
Meyers Leonard says days after the Warriors swept Portland. "It's incredibly difficult to be a help defender and then be up at the screen. It feels awkward. Help defense against the Warriors is totally different when they are playing that old Warriors style. It's not normal. You never know what's coming."
Rivers was watching that game and laughing in exasperation at that Curry 3-pointer, he says. Notice how both of Looney's screens direct Curry toward the coffin corner. Most pindowns spring shooters away from the boundaries. The Clippers blocked Curry and Thompson from using those picks -- "top-locking," in hoops parlance:
The inherent challenge of Golden State (with or without Durant) is that there is no one catch-all answer to defending them, or even to defending any one of their players over any single possession. Sometimes, you should switch. Sometimes, you should roam. Sometimes, you should trap. Sometimes, you should do all of those things in rapid succession.
A lot of those strategies are in direct conflict. Say you are a shot-blocker defending Green on one wing while Curry dribbles on the other. You should get ready to help at the rim on Curry's drive, right? But wait! Green is setting an off-ball screen for Thompson. Your job is to switch such actions. How can you switch outside onto Thompson
and help inside on Curry?
You can't. If you're switching you can't help, and if you're helping you can't switch, and trying to figure out which to do depending on a dozen variables -- who has the ball, how much time is left on the shot clock, what other Warriors are on the floor, whether Joe Lacob is taunting you -- can plunge the smartest defenders into a haze.
"It's like you're in a boat with three holes in the bottom," Jeff Bzdelik, Houston's former defensive coordinator, told me last season, "and you only have two pegs to plug them. You just have to keep moving the pegs around."
Rivers resorted to telling his players to hack when they felt themselves falling behind. "That was the first time I had ever done that as a coach," he says.
The Warriors countered by redirecting their offense toward the corner. "They are so smart," Rivers says. He took particular note of the way Curry shoved his backpedaling brother into Looney's pick. Mean.
Golden State is preposterously good within tight confines. Their offense blooms in environments -- the corners -- where for most it withers.