For a decade with the Golden State Warriors, Kevon Looney did his work in the shadows. In the margins of victories. In the crevices of defeats. In the whispers on the bench and the quiet of the locker room. He set screens and wrestled giants, anchored himself as a pillar in the locker room, led with words and deeds.
“You can feel invisible sometimes,” Looney told The Athletic in July. “But I know what I bring. I know how much it matters.”
That’s the thing about life in the shadows. Worth gets obscured when it lives away from the spotlight.
Looney found himself perennially having to prove and re-prove his value with Golden State. He thought he’d proven enough. But the team that knew him best made it clear to Looney that his value had expired. So, last offseason, Looney took the money from New Orleans.
His tenure with the Warriors ended unceremoniously, quietly. He left the place he loved feeling forgotten, cast aside.
“It was (not) one moment,” Looney said after signing a two-year, $16 million deal with the Pelicans in June. “But like … in the playoffs, we’re going against Steven Adams, and this is what I do. And they (were) not giving me the chance to let me do what I do. And it’s like, ‘All right, y’all don’t trust me. I thought y’all would trust me. Y’all don’t think I’m that good no more.’”
On Saturday, Golden State hosts the Pelicans, and Looney returns home. Back to the place where he made his name. Back to face the Warriors, the team for which he gave his all for 10 seasons and the franchise that should, eventually, memorialize the three-time champion. Somehow.
As a down payment on future honor, Looney will be reminded he can never be forgotten. Not here.
The Bay Area doesn’t forget its workhorses. Local dynasties always feature beloved glue figures. Looney won’t be short on love in his return to Chase Center. It figures to be a moving reminder of how the business of basketball doesn’t inherently ruin sentimentality.
Kevon Looney celebrates the Warriors’ 2022 NBA title, the last of three Golden State championship teams he played on. (Joe Murphy / NBAE via Getty Images)
But at 29, in his 11th season, Looney endeavors to prove his value to a league obsessed with scorers, 3-point shooters and athletic wings. The Pelicans paid for his championship pedigree and professional approach, hoping it would influence their locker room (and their franchise star, Zion Williamson).
“I know what winning looks like,” he said back in September. “I know what it takes every day, not just in the playoffs. That’s what I want to bring here: professionalism, discipline, consistency. I’m here to help our stars shine and make sure the little things are taken care of.”
Looney has only played in nine of the Pelicans’ 19 games, with six starts. He’s made just 9 of 26 shots, unable to find any kind of rhythm in the chaos of struggles. New Orleans’ season derailed before Thanksgiving, firing head coach Willie Green, and the Pelicans own the worst record in the Western Conference (3-16).
Teams with championship aspirations platform the blue-collar players who thrive at the little things. Their toughness matters in high-leverage moments. Their contributions make the difference when the teams are mostly even. The bone-crushing screens, the clutch offensive rebounds, the extra pass — those sacrifices shine on the bigger stages.
But on a bottom-feeder? Perhaps Looney can prove his value there, too. In how he handles losing and inconsistent minutes. In building winning habits. In talking to the young players who have to eventually pull New Orleans out of this.
Looney emerged as a leader in the 2019-20 season. After Kevin Durant left the Warriors, and with Steph Curry and Klay Thompson injured, Looney became a veteran voice. The Warriors went 15-50, and how he handled that season elevated him in the Warriors ecosystem. Over the next three seasons, Looney would prove he could make an impact without 20 shots a night.
“I take a lot of pride in that stuff,” Looney said at Pelicans media day. “I take pride in doing all the small stuff, all the hard work stuff, all the tough stuff. The stuff that doesn’t always show up in the box score. … Making an impact however I can, if it’s rebounding, screen setting, diving on the floor, whatever they need me to do, I’m willing to sacrifice and go out there and do it.”
But who knows? Maybe a more competitive team trades for him. Maybe the value he believes in takes him to a new home by the deadline.
Looney is an undersized center who doesn’t stretch the floor. His handle and midrange game are better than most would think, but not good enough to make it a feature of his team’s offense.
So what’s the value of dirty-work specialists? Of high-character leaders? How much room is there in this league for throwback veterans and consummate teammates?
Warriors fans will remember him switching onto James Harden on the road in Houston in the 2018 Western Conference finals and holding his own. And playing with a fractured chest in the 2019 finals. And saving the 2022 postseason run with his rebounding.
They could use him now for a defense that Draymond Green says is lacking force. For a locker room split between stars and youngsters.
That’s often the hole in modern roster construction in today’s NBA. Teams crave shooting and playmaking, as they should. But the rugged glue guys slip through the cracks and go unrecognized. Looney found himself on the short end of every free agency. An offer never came this time from the Warriors, who invested all their capital at the top of the roster.
Now, he’s in New Orleans. They don’t need him to score. They need him to be himself. To stabilize and mentor. To be physical and impart the habits he absorbed in a dynasty.
A dynasty that will ensure he’s never forgotten. Not around here.
“I’ll always love the Warriors,” Looney said. “That’s family forever. I felt like maybe they forgot about me at the end. But that doesn’t erase everything we did together.”
