Klay Thompson’s return was perfect

Ever since it started to become clear that Klay Thompson would be leaving the Golden State Warriors, I had eagerly and nervously anticipated Tuesday night’s game. Even before I knew what the schedule was. Even before I knew the Dallas Mavericks were his team of choice.

I was anticipating Thompson’s return to the Bay Area, and his first time facing the team he played his initial 13 seasons with. I was excited about it.

I was also scared.

Rom-coms may be full of pairings that continue to love each other and get along after a split, but athletics are rarely so optimistic when divorce is on the line.

Michael Jordan’s run of basketball perfection ended over a dispute with the Chicago Bulls’ front office, and that relationship was never repaired. Jerry West spent 14 years playing for the Los Angeles Lakers, three years coaching them, and 18 years as their general manager, but wasn’t even on speaking terms with the organization when he died earlier this year. LeBron James caused his hometown team’s owner to write him public hate mail because he decided he wanted to play with his close friend and try living in a new state for the first time.

Things might have felt different with Klay, but basketball offers no shortage of examples when you forget that professional competitors simply view things differently. Where you and I might see nothing, an elite athlete can find a grudge to sit on their shoulder for decades.

Thompson’s majestic run with the Warriors may have been nearly perfect, but in the run up to Tuesday’s game — a 120-117 Warriors win that stands as the early game of the year in the NBA — it was easy to find ways that his return could have been uncomfortable. What if Klay didn’t match the love emanating from the Warriors franchise and fanbase, and instead appeared to only hold the feeling of being slighted that seemed to drive his decision to leave? What if his output of love and gratitude surpassed that which he was taking in, and regretful, swollen eyes made us tragically wonder if he was having buyer’s remorse?

What if, worst of all, neither happened, and Klay seemed emotionally vacant, as though the last 13 years were not only gone, but already forgotten? There’s a comical song by Blake Shelton in which he describes the heartbreak of running into an ex-lover and painfully realizing that “not only she don’t love me — she don’t hate me anymore.”

But no. We were spared all those painful outcomes. Klay was clearly moved by all things big and small. The grandness of the gestures (hundreds of employees greeted him at the player’s entrance, and the Warriors ran a touching tribute video when introducing him), and the minutiae of the moment (after the game he spent significant time just roaming through the home team’s facilities, mingling with former co-workers). It was clear how fondly he still feels for the team, the fans, and the city, yet it was equally clear that no part of him regrets his decision to move on.

I make a habit of never criticizing player’s free agency choices, because every person wants something unique, and who am I to tell anyone what they should want? Yet everyone had an ounce of fear that Thompson was making a rash move based on feeling scorned and that, when cooler heads prevailed, he would realize that in trying to hurt someone else, he had only hurt himself.

His comments after signing with Dallas made it fairly clear that wasn’t the case. Steph Curry and Steve Kerr’s comments shortly after made it even clearer. And Thompson’s demeanor on Tuesday was the final data point that his decision was neither spontaneous nor irrational; it was reasoned and right.

Klay’s performance was also perfect for the night. It was one of his best games since donning a Mavs jersey, and fit cleanly in the middle ground where Warriors fans could be happy for, but not jealous of his success. A more notable performance for the better or for the worse could have been ugly. When Thompson air-balled a three in the fourth quarter, the Chase Center crowd, with captain hats upon their heads, rained down a mild and good-natured “aiiiiir baaaaaall” chant. Had Thompson had an ugly shooting night, the fans that at times started to turn on him last year might have let him hear it a bit too much, creating that patented uncomfortable situation where one starts to realize that they’re being teased not because it’s funny, but because it will hurt.

Similarly, had Thompson exploded for one of his vintage performances, the competitive fire that drove him to stick it to the Warriors might have burned too bright. As it was, Thompson played it perfectly, hitting his former teammates with a little bit of trash talk, and imitating Curry’s shimmy after a made three.

With 22 points and a close loss, those moments were cute, entertaining, and loving. With 50 points and a blowout win, they might have been arrogant to the point of provocation.

Even so, we were offered a rare glimpse behind the curtain of extreme competitors. Curry and Draymond Green embraced Thompson with huge hugs pre and post-game, and offered nothing but effusive praise and gracious platitudes in interviews, but their play told another story. They were as locked in and competitively invested as they’ve been in an NBA game since the 2022 Finals. It being an in-season tournament game against the reigning conference champions may have played a small part in that, but Curry didn’t hide the real reason.

After making the biggest shot of the game — and season — Curry approached the cameras as directly as a talk show host being told which lens to look into. He tugged at the insignia on his jersey, pointed to the Chase Center hardwood, glared at the camera, and repeatedly yelled, “You better stay here.”

Perhaps we’ve been forgetting that scorn isn’t a one-way street.

Outside of his own family members, there’s surely no non-Warriors NBA player that Curry loves as much as Thompson. It’s also quite likely that there’s no player he wants to beat, or send a message to more. And judging by Klay’s reactions, from his antics following made threes to the look of disdain as he hugged Curry following the buzzer, it seems likely that those feelings are reciprocated.

But they haven’t brought about anything bad. Tuesday was not awkward, it was not uncomfortable, it was not unpleasant, and it wasn’t even sad.

It was a celebration of Thompson’s magical tenure, and also an acknowledgement that he chose the right path. And the start of a new, emotionally-charged rivalry.