Mike Dunleavy’s rise from sharpshooter to shot-caller has been one of the quieter success stories in the NBA front office world. Taking over as the general manager of the Golden State Warriors, Dunleavy stepped into massive shoes. Bob Myers, his predecessor, didn’t just help engineer a dynasty—he built a culture. That culture has been passed down, restructured, and now revitalized under Dunleavy’s stewardship. And now, it seems, he and his team may have stumbled upon something every executive dreams about: a hidden gem. That phrase is overused, yes, but when you watch what’s unfolding in the summer of 2025, it starts to feel earned. Whether it’s an overlooked draft pick, a G League standout, or a Summer League breakout, there’s a spark. And in the Warriors’ case, that spark might soon erupt into a flame.
In the shadow of superstar legacies and championship banners, the Warriors are in transition. They’re no longer the death machine of 2017, but neither are they rudderless. Stephen Curry remains the emotional and stylistic anchor, but the team has reached the point where new blood isn’t just helpful—it’s necessary. That’s where Dunleavy’s supposed “gem” comes into play. The front office took a swing, possibly without even realizing the full magnitude of their move at the time. Maybe it was a second-round selection. Maybe it was an undrafted player picked up in the blur of post-draft transactions. Maybe it was a trade done on the margins, the kind fans scroll past in real-time and only revisit when something unusual starts happening. Regardless of how the player got there, they’re here now—and they’re turning heads.
Vegas has a way of revealing things. Under the neon glare and against the backdrop of tourists, gamblers, and hopefuls, the NBA Summer League becomes a proving ground. It separates the flash from the substance. And for the Warriors, it has become a canvas where this newfound prospect is painting a compelling picture. There’s an energy to the way he moves. He sees the game faster than those around him. He closes out instinctively. He glides in transition. He may not even have jaw-dropping stats yet, but the signs are all there. The hustle plays. The anticipation. The hunger. In an environment where most players are desperately trying to stand out, this player does so without even trying to force it. He belongs.
Mike Dunleavy isn’t the most vocal executive, but those who’ve worked with him note his attention to detail and his deep understanding of team chemistry. He was, after all, a coach’s son. He grew up around locker rooms. He knows the intangible signs of a winner. And the whispers out of the Warriors’ camp suggest that what he’s seeing now is giving him flashbacks to past coups—Draymond Green in the second round, Kevon Looney’s overlooked durability, Jordan Poole’s early flashes before his explosion. This new player might not be a Curry-level generational talent, but he might be a glue guy, a rotation mainstay, a culture piece. And in today’s NBA, especially for a team like the Warriors that straddles eras, that kind of addition can be priceless.
Warriors fans, always tuned into the slightest buzz, have already begun noticing. Social media clips circulate. Observers are dissecting his footwork, his off-ball movement, his defensive rotations. There’s an intelligence there, a rhythm that doesn’t lie. The fans want something—or someone—to believe in. They’ve watched their team grow older. They’ve seen the dynastic core thinned out. They know the next chapter is being written in real time. And when someone comes in and looks like they’ve been part of the system for years despite just arriving, the collective hope builds fast.
It’s worth noting the kind of player Dunleavy has traditionally favored. He understands the value of versatility, of basketball IQ, of positional flexibility. This player seems to tick those boxes. He might not be a 25-point scorer. He might not light up the scoreboard. But he impacts winning. He plays the right way. He makes the extra pass. He rotates with discipline. He communicates. These are traits that don’t show up in every box score but get you noticed in film sessions. And in a Warriors ecosystem built on movement, precision, and flow, this type of player is oxygen.
One particular game in Vegas sealed it for many. The opponent was more hyped, their roster stuffed with recent lottery picks and high-flying athletes. Yet time and again, it was the Warriors’ unheralded addition who made the right read, forced the key turnover, made the gutsy cut. It wasn’t sexy. But it was winning basketball. Coaches raved afterward. Teammates gravitated toward him. The opposing bench looked frustrated—not because he was torching them with threes, but because he was controlling the pace of the game in subtle ways. And that’s when it became real. This wasn’t a fluke. This wasn’t a lucky night. This was someone who might actually be the real deal.
Dunleavy’s job, of course, is far from done. The Warriors still have roster questions, aging stars, and salary cap hurdles. But when you can land a player who punches above his draft status—or sneaks in through the back door and earns his spot with sheer will—that’s a major win. It buys you flexibility. It gives you leverage. It resets the clock a bit. Because in a league where second contracts often balloon and stars change teams with dizzying speed, the true cheat code is a young, productive player on a cheap deal.
The identity of this “gem” is becoming less of a secret by the day. Reporters are sniffing around. National media is beginning to ask questions. The comparisons are flying fast. Some say he reminds them of a young Andre Iguodala. Others see shades of Malcolm Brogdon. There’s even been an absurd Gary Payton II throwback mentioned, especially for the defensive instincts and explosive second efforts. The truth is, he might be his own mold. What matters is that he’s here, and he’s forcing a conversation.
And so the pressure builds—not just on the player, but on the organization. If this truly is a diamond in the rough, development becomes everything. You can’t just identify talent—you have to nurture it. That means not burying him behind veterans with diminishing returns. It means building a plan. It means minutes. It means trust. The Warriors have done this before, but the balance is trickier now. Winning now versus preparing for tomorrow. That tightrope walk is the defining challenge of the Dunleavy era. And so far, this move might be his boldest step.
Mike Dunleavy has always carried a quiet confidence. He doesn’t seek headlines. He isn’t flashy in interviews. But there’s a reason the Warriors entrusted him with the keys to the kingdom. And if this player—this overlooked, underappreciated, possibly transformational piece—becomes what many now think he could be, Dunleavy won’t need to say a word. The results will speak for themselves.
In a league driven by stars, it’s easy to overlook the impact of glue guys. But dynasties aren’t built on talent alone. They need cohesion, timing, and belief. Dunleavy and his team might’ve just found the player who brings all three in one package. No gaudy expectations. No billboard campaigns. Just a competitor, a worker, a Warrior in every sense of the word. That kind of discovery changes franchises—not overnight, but brick by brick. Vegas might be where stars are born in the Summer League, but for the Warriors, it might be remembered as the place where Mike Dunleavy quietly made one of the smartest moves of his front-office tenure. Only time will tell, but right now, it sure looks like gold.
