#I remember finding out the concept of a 'golden birthday' in 2008 and it was right in the middle of a phase where I was a little

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ON this day 27 years ago I was allegedly borned

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The Warriors trade for Andrew Wiggins was not about Andrew Wiggins

Photo by Thearon W. Henderson/Getty Images

The Warriors’ window for contention cracked open even further after the trade with the Timberwolves.

After five straight years reshaping how the NBA is played, the Golden State Warriors are a sleeping giant in the middle of a much deserved nap. Last week they traded D’Angelo Russell, Jacob Evans, and Omari Spellman to the Minnesota Timberwolves for Andrew Wiggins, a 2021 top-three protected first-round pick, and a 2021 second-round pick. The move flapped open one of their eyelids like a window shade.

The Warriors are currently the worst team in the league. Their offense is vomit and their leading scorer is a 23-year-old rookie named Eric Paschall, who’s averaging 13.4 points per game. But for those who might have forgotten, Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, and Draymond Green will all be healthy next season. They now also have Wiggins, a positional upgrade over Russell who contradicts the cerebral persona that best fits Golden State’s system.

Most coverage of the deal has centered around the players involved, which is natural but, as we’ll eventually get to, besides the point. It’s OK to think Wiggins will bundle up inside the Bay Area’s auspicious basketball preserve and finally learn how to maximize elements of his limitless potential that would’ve forever gone untapped in Minnesota. Even though winning has been a foreign concept, the Timberwolves were better with Wiggins on the court in every single season of his career heading into this one. What the Warriors will now do is introduce the former No. 1 pick to a different slice of NBA life, where great expectations are annually overshadowed by tangible achievement. Who knows, maybe Wiggins was miscast from the start?

From the Warriors’ perspective, it’s also fair to wonder how much of this deal was about ego. Golden State is seemingly betting on its culture to rehabilitate the NBA’s most expensive lost cause. Even if they end up being wrong, it’s OK for the Warriors to try and milk, if not all-star potential, a useful two-way cog who elevates those around him by making smart decisions and efficient shots while finally understanding that possessions don’t exist just so he can take them for granted. They are precious.

Wiggins receives more criticism than any player who’s scored over 8,700 points before their 25th birthday — with good reason, considering only nine other players are in that club and they’re all either in the Hall of Fame or headed there someday — because there are no easy ways to explain why he can’t be great. He’s his own worst enemy, a tragic antihero who’s selfishness blends with frustrating indifference. Wiggins is an objectively talented solo act who doesn’t know how to sacrifice, let alone express a willingness to try.

Golden State’s front office wasn’t born yesterday, though. They know how hard it was to reach the NBA Finals with Kevin Durant, the two hottest shooters who ever lived, and a defender who forever changed defensive strategy. The denouement of their dynastic run will not be dictated by a player who epitomizes disappointment. Bob Myers is not delusional and Wiggins is not the answer; picturing him in the Finals wearing a Warriors jersey is like seeing a penguin in the Sahara. As one rival executive risibly texted one day after the trade when I asked about the viability of this new relationship, “Maybe Kerr can help Wiggins find joy.”

To that end it, factoring in the three years and $95 million that remain on his contract, Wiggins will not be remembered as the most consequential part of this deal. Sure, it’d be a boon for the Warriors if measurable strides were made, though filling a void left by Harrison Barnes ignores the irreplaceable contributions made by Andre Iguodala and Shaun Livingston, let alone the age, wear, and tear of Golden State’s remaining Hall of Fame trio. It’s too hard to fathom a world where he helps an all-time juggernaut find its legs. This team must evolve, not chase their own ghosts.

Instead, it’s Minnesota’s 2021 first-round pick, the honey-dipped asset that every contender wishes it had, that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s no coincidence that this was the only future first that changed hands last week. They’re priceless for small market teams (like Minnesota) that can’t attract top-tier talent in free agency. When a pick like that is originally owned by a team that’s still rebuilding, with zero cap flexibility, an infestation of inexperience, and either James Johnson or Josh Okigie as their best defender, it becomes a diamond. (This may not matter, but it being unprotected in 2022 is a low-key stunner.)

Now, all is not entirely hopeless in Minnesota. Russell and Karl-Anthony Towns are all-star talents who will give birth to an unanswerable pick-and-roll, and if Towns finally treats his defensive responsibilities with the seriousness they deserve, the pick’s value drops. When the Brooklyn Nets make the playoffs Minnesota also receives their pick, giving them two first rounders in this year’s draft. Their own has a 12.5 percent chance of being No. 1 and a 48.1 percent chance of landing in the top four; perhaps they move one or both for a player who can help them win sooner than later, or even select a prospect capable of giving the organization a B-12 shot next season.

All that’s possible but not very likely because the Timberwolves have been bad for approximately one million years. Since they picked Kevin Love fifth overall back in 2008, they’ve had five top-five selections, not including Jarrett Culver, who they traded up to take at six last June.

The Warriors now add that pick to all their own — Golden State does owe the Memphis Grizzlies a top-four protected pick, but not until 2024 — and assuming they Curry, Thompson, and Green pick up where they left off there’s a good chance all of them will be shopped, if not as picks then as invaluable rookie-scale contracts.

Even though no clear path to trading for a key contributor can be seen today, what happens over the next year is anybody’s guess. The NBA’s future is a total crapshoot, at the whim of impatient owners, insatiable stars, and desperate front offices. Moves that seem unfathomable at the moment will be made, and the Warriors are positioned to lure someone significant.

What if the Washington Wizards are lottery-bound again next year, and before the deadline Bradley Beal discloses a desire to leave. Would Washington take Wiggins (who’d only have two years left on his own max contract) if tethered to whoever Golden State picks in this year’s draft plus that Minnesota pick? Another team may be able to present a better offer, but how many would also be confident enough to re-sign Beal when he hits free agency in 2022?

What if the Sixers are finally ready to pull the plug on either Ben Simmons or Joel Embiid? Or the Houston Rockets implode and a lifeline is offered for James Harden? Or Rudy Gobert gets upset because the Utah Jazz aren’t willing to give him the super max? Or Victor Oladipo starts to feel out of place in Indiana and the Pacers fear he’ll test free agency? Or, in an all-time best-case scenario — assuming Golden State doesn’t drift above the tax apron — Giannis Antetokounmpo is willing to take a pay cut and agree to a sign-and-trade?

Yes, some of those read like a pipe dream, completely unrealistic in a world where Wiggins is static. But let’s momentarily ignore him altogether and take things down to a less glitzy reality, one where the Warriors exchange unproven assets for more established prospects — even extension candidates who may reach an impasse with their current team. Think Lauri Markkanen, John Collins, Luke Kennard, or Jarrett Allen. These are expensive propositions, sure, but ducking the tax this year allows them to avoid the repeater.

Down the line, Wiggins’ contract may be intriguing salary filler when attached to another asset. What about teams that may suddenly need to change direction, like, say, the Milwaukee Bucks, if Antetokounmpo wants to play for the Miami Heat (him choosing Bam Adebayo with his second pick in the all-star draft was ... something?). Golden State could go after Khris Middleton. They could pounce on Nikola Vucevic or Tobias Harris or Jrue Holiday. What about Buddy Hield?

The Warriors might also look around the Western Conference and think what they have is good enough to contend. They draft someone like James Wiseman then tinker around the margins with exceptions that can actually land a meaningful player or two, given the dearth of cap space and favorable destinations in this year’s marketplace.

From there, assuming Minnesota’s pick lands in the top 10, let’s say they keep it and find another young gem. (Easier said than done, but I’m a glass-half-full type of guy and am not about to stop thinking Golden State’s front office isn’t one of the NBA’s best.) Suddenly the Warriors can straddle two functional timelines, and may be able to stiff arm the harsh rebuild every regime inevitably sees on the other side of extravagant success. All that’s too far down the road for speculation, but it’s worth thinking about.

Point being: the Warriors are not in a bad spot. Even without the pick, their ceiling with Wiggins is probably higher than it would’ve been with Russell. With it, they have endless options to explore over the next 18 months, and a better chance to scale a mountain top they used to live on. If they return, we’ll look back on this trade as the move that kick started it all. And there’s a very good chance Minnesota’s draft pick is the first reason why.