Thompson: The big man spirit in Andrew Wiggins is paying dividends for the Warriors

MEMPHIS, Tenn. — For an illustration of how Andrew Wiggins is feeling, of what he sees in the mirror that helps him play his pivotal role in the Warriors’ small-ball attack, just go back to December 2020.

When training camp finally kicked off, delayed by the onslaught of the pandemic, the Warriors’ nine-month break ended. Wiggins, who was traded to the Warriors about a month before COVID-19 shut down the 2019-20 season, showed up looking as if he’d put on some muscle. Remember the memes it spawned? Wiggins in a black tank top, taking a set shot, biceps looking a bit swollen. Of course it prompted some hyperbolic Photoshopped renderings.

Wiggins feels like that dude. Banging in the paint. Measuring his might against larger humans. Pursuing rebounds as if they were dreams.

This is but the latest stage of Wiggins’ metamorphosis with Golden State. In Minnesota, he was a professional bucket-getter who was a primary creator in the offense, averaging 19.7 points in his six seasons with the Timberwolves. With the Warriors, he became a primary defender and a secondary offensive option, a finisher who only situationally is asked to create. That made him a more efficient offensive weapon, especially from 3-point range, and earned him his first All-Star selection.

But it also put him in position to win. Now, the pursuit of a championship has him playing power forward. Listed at 6-foot-7, 197 pounds, Wiggins is being asked to play a position for bigger men. His tasks are far less glorious than they used to be. They’re the grimy chores of winning.

And he kind of loves it.

“I mean, it’s not easy, obviously,” Wiggins said, “because 99 percent of the time, I’m smaller. But I feel like I’m just as strong and athletic as anyone else. I love fighting with guys. I love the physicality down there. I feel like it just gets you going. You gotta wake up for this. You can’t just ease into it. If you ease into it, those guys are gonna push you under the rim and bury you.”

It’s a rare transition. Scoring is a helluva drug. The dopamine from making shots is a difficult addiction to kick. It takes a certain mindset to trade the glory of points for the dignity of dirty work.

“Trust me, I want to get buckets,” Wiggins said, flashing his trademark grin. “But right now, we’ve got a lot of guys getting buckets. So I do what I can when I can.”

This is why the Warriors love Wiggins. The reputation for apathy he built as a scorer on losing teams has been contradicted in the Bay by his dedication to winning. From his acceptance of fewer shots and more defense to his decision to violate his beliefs and get vaccinated to his embrace of his conversion to big man, Wiggins has done nothing but commit himself to the Warriors’ macro mission.

Harrison Barnes and Kevin Durant have played this same role for the Warriors. Barnes was 6-8 and 228 pounds when he was drafted in 2012 and had the beef to embrace the role. He added muscle over the years to better serve in that capacity. Durant, listed at 6-foot-10, 240 pounds, had the length to play the position.

But Wiggins is smaller than both. He was considered a big shooting guard when he was drafted and became a small forward as the NBA trended smaller. He’s a great athlete whose explosiveness and agility come in handy. But mostly, it’s his mindset carrying him through.

Another disadvantage Wiggins faces: everyone has a small lineup. When Barnes was a small forward dropping down to power forward, the league wasn’t quite ready for it. Opponents either doubled down with a traditional power forward, which gave Barnes a quickness advantage, or put a small forward against him, which gave him a size advantage. When the Warriors’ upgraded to Durant, the rest of the league had no choice but to follow the pattern to compete.

Now, it’s common for teams to have a player who can easily swing between the traditional roles of small forward and power forward. In the current NBA paradigm, players are much more well-versed in the value of small guys who can get away with doing big-guy things and big guys who can get out on the perimeter with the wings. So Wiggins is competing against like-minded players, often those with more experience in his role than even he has — considering he really just started playing this position regularly in the postseason.

It’s not what you expect from a player making $31.6 million this season. But if the Warriors win a championship, it will be because Wiggins starred in his role and brought more value than anyone ever imagined from him.

“This is this is the biggest thing in basketball,” Wiggins said. “This is where you’re remembered. This is what your legacy is built on. The playoffs. Championships. Stuff like that. So I’m down to do whatever I got to do to get this win and keep it pushing.”

In the first round, the Nuggets had Aaron Gordon, Jeff Green, JaMychal Green — all 6-foot-8 and about 230, 235 pounds. In these Western Conference semifinals, the Grizzlies are using Brandon Clarke (6-8, 215) and Xavier Tillman (6-8, 245) as “power forwards.” And when Memphis center Steven Adams returns, Wiggins could find himself matched up against the 6-foot-11, 242-pound Jaren Jackson Jr.

Remember, Wiggins started this season as the Warriors’ defender of point guards.

“It takes a very strong mindset,” said Draymond Green, who as the Warriors’ 6-foot-6, 230-pound center knows all about it. “You’re doing a lot of dirty work. You’re battling with guys. A lot of things that come with that position … will never show up in his stat sheet. You have to take pride in that. You have to have a lot of self-appreciation for what you’re doing and what you’re bringing to your team. Because ultimately, it’s important. … He’s doing little things, and those little things pay dividends. Those little things are the reason a small lineup works.”

Fortunately for the Warriors, Wiggins isn’t new to this. Back in Vaughan, Ontario, he was always one of the bigger kids. He played just about every position. But he spent a lot of time in youth basketball as the big man. Bullying kids on the block, crafting the big-dog psyche he’s now using. It wasn’t until he came to America that he became, well, not the big dog. When he attended prep school in Huntington, West Virginia, he became exclusively a perimeter player.

But his father is a former NBA player and his mother a a former Olympic track star. Physical greatness is in his DNA. He’s even stronger than he looks, and his 7-foot wingspan and impressive hops help him compete even at a size disadvantage.

Those are just tools, however. They only work if Wiggins activates them. And Golden State’s postseason run is working thus far because he’s chosen to do so wherever the Warriors point. His success with the Warriors is attributed to him taking a lesser role than the one he held in Minnesota. But Wiggins’ buy-in comes from understanding lesser roles become greater in the pursuit of a championship.

“Part of it is a commitment to what you’re being asked to do,” Steph Curry said. “With us, it’s a different conversation. Where do you really have value? Where can you really shine in a specific role? And are you going to be committed to doing that?”

It’s been a resounding yes from Wiggins. He averaged 4.5 rebounds in the regular season. In the playoffs, he leads the Warriors with 7.0 rebounds per game. In the regular season, he averaged 14 shots. So far in these playoffs, he’s averaging 10 as Jordan Poole is getting more.

Part of the new role, too, means less success. Wiggins is simply better at defending on the perimeter than he is manning the inside. But the job includes swallowing the failures. The Warriors don’t need him to dominate inside. They just need him to hold the fort enough. Which means he has to give maximum effort without the shining results. During the regular season, Wiggins led the Warriors with an average of 14.1 field goal attempts defended. Opponents shot 43.4 percent against him, which represented a 3.5 percent decline from their collective average. His commitment to defense was rewarded with metrics. But in these playoffs, he’s being credited with defending an average of 12.3 field goal attempts per game, second to Green’s 19.2. Opponents are now shooting 53.5 percent on Wiggins.

It takes an unwavering commitment to not just relinquish the glory, but to replace it with something overlooked that offers less success and still be all in. It takes a certain moxie to find value in the victories not completely revealed in data.

Wiggins is finding it in clutch offensive rebounds that carry much more weight than the tally in the stat sheet. He’s getting the love in the locker room for every ball he keeps alive by getting his hands on it, every rotation he makes that keeps the defense on a string, for every good contest that makes a shot just a bit tougher for the opposing player.

“Wiggs has understood that, that really makes a difference,” Curry said. “And you can develop a sense of pride around that, and you get celebrated for it. It’s not just putting the ball in the basket. It’s everything else.”

There is one place where Wiggins’ two worlds come together, where the bucket-getter and inner big man can exist in harmony. He’s hunting for the moment they can unify above the rim.

Late in the one loss to Denver, he soared for a tip-dunk that would’ve brought the house down. But it bounced out. He tried another in Game 1 against Memphis. It, too, did not go down.

“It’s there, though. It’s there,” Wiggins said, shaking his head. “I had one last game. I guided it in, but it fucking missed. (The one in Denver,) I don’t know how I missed. I make that dunk nine out of 10 times.

“I’ma get one.”

(Photo: Kelley L Cox / USA Today)