For all the brilliance that the Golden State Warriors have exhibited over the past decade—blinding shooting, tight defensive rotations, a fusion of modern analytics and old-school grit—the engine that has quietly driven much of their sustained success has been the unique and often underappreciated skill set of Draymond Green. While fans and pundits have long gushed about Steph Curry’s unrelenting range, Klay Thompson’s smooth mechanics, and the death-by-cuts motion offense instituted by Steve Kerr, the thread that ties it all together, especially on the offensive end, has always been Green’s unparalleled court vision and decision-making. His passing ability isn’t just effective; it’s genius. And for years, it’s been the hidden superpower that keeps the Warriors’ dynasty humming, especially when the lights shine the brightest.
Draymond Green doesn’t rack up flashy stat lines. He’s never averaged more than 14 points per game in a season. His jumper has often drawn ridicule, and his unfiltered, often combustible personality has landed him in trouble with officials, teammates, and opponents alike. But when the Warriors’ offense is at its apex, slicing through defenses with ease and whipping the ball around the perimeter like a blur, it’s usually Green who’s orchestrating the chaos. And therein lies the genius.
What makes Draymond’s passing so potent is not simply his ability to find open teammates. It’s the way he reads defenses in real-time, anticipating shifts and counters with the instincts of a chess grandmaster. While many forwards and centers have the capacity to make a good pass when a play develops in front of them, Green is doing something entirely different—he’s manipulating defenses with his eyes, his pace, and even his body language. He reads the angles before they fully appear, throwing passes to spots rather than players, trusting that Curry or Thompson or Wiggins will be there, because he’s studied the film and trusts the rhythm of the system.
One of the best examples of this is Green’s chemistry with Steph Curry in transition and semi-transition. The Warriors’ “flow” offense doesn’t always rely on set plays but rather an understanding of timing, positioning, and spatial awareness. When Curry gives up the ball early on a fast break—something most star players would never do—it’s often because he knows Green will make the right read and deliver the ball back in a much more dangerous position. That’s the trust Green has earned. The infamous “relocate three” that has become Curry’s signature move—the moment when he passes, sprints to an open spot behind the arc, and fires away—doesn’t work without a teammate who’s thinking three steps ahead. That teammate is Draymond Green.
Perhaps what separates Green from other gifted passers in the league is that he’s doing it from the frontcourt, often with defenders draped on him, in tight quarters, or in the short roll. His ability to function as a point-forward, especially when operating out of pick-and-roll or dribble handoff actions, turns the Warriors into an unpredictable and multi-layered offensive force. Teams can’t trap Curry off pick-and-rolls the way they might against other guards, because once the ball is out of Curry’s hands and into Green’s, the advantage is already created. And unlike most big men who might hesitate or simply kick it back out, Green attacks the 4-on-3 advantage like a quarterback reading a blitz. He either drives, dishes to the dunker spot, finds a shooter in the corner, or lofts a lob over the top—all within a split second.
There’s a surgical precision to it all. The Warriors’ offense doesn’t function as a traditional machine with fixed gears. It’s more like jazz—improvisational, fluid, and reliant on a deep understanding between the players. Green is the bassist in that band, holding down the rhythm, creating the foundation for others to riff on. He rarely gets the final spotlight, but his contributions are essential to the harmony. You can take Green out of the equation for a few games and still see flashes of Warriors brilliance, but over time, their offense loses its structure, its audacity, and most importantly, its identity.
This was most apparent during the 2019-2020 season when injuries to Curry and Thompson left Green on a rudderless ship. Without the gravitational pull of elite shooters, Green’s numbers dipped and his impact waned. Critics pounced, labeling him as a system player who needed stars around him to thrive. But that critique missed the point entirely. Green isn’t the star; he’s the stabilizer, the connector, the conduit. His brilliance lies in enhancing others, not in chasing his own stats. In that way, he belongs to a rare breed of NBA players who derive their greatness from elevating the collective rather than the individual.
Over the years, Green has developed a photographic memory for the Warriors’ system and opponents’ tendencies. He’s often described as one of the smartest players in the league, and his passing is the purest expression of that IQ. He knows where Curry likes to catch the ball, the precise footwork Klay prefers on a flare screen, and how to time a backdoor bounce pass to a cutting Andrew Wiggins. It’s all intuitive to him, but it’s backed by hours of film study, years of trust-building, and a relentless commitment to understanding the nuances of the game.
What’s particularly impressive is that Green has managed to maintain his playmaking excellence despite being a non-shooter. In today’s NBA, spacing is king, and teams are constantly looking for ways to exploit weak shooters. Green has been targeted this way many times—defenders sagging off him to crowd Curry or clog the paint. But he counters this by using the extra space to his advantage. His passing lanes open up. His driving angles become clearer. And once the defense adjusts, it’s already too late—he’s made the pass, and the Warriors are celebrating yet another triple.
The Warriors’ 2015 championship run and the 73-9 season that followed are often remembered for the Splash Brothers’ shooting exploits and Steve Kerr’s offensive innovation. But watch those games closely, and you’ll see that Green was the central nervous system. He’d bring the ball up, initiate the offense, set the screens, make the handoffs, and then swing the ball to the corner just in time for a dagger three. He was averaging near triple-doubles in the playoffs, often leading the team in assists, even rebounds. Yet his passing rarely made highlight reels, because it wasn’t flashy—it was functional. He made the right pass, not the sexy one.
There’s an inherent humility in Green’s passing too. He plays with emotion, yes, and he’ll let you know when you’ve crossed a line. But with the ball in his hands, he defers when necessary, asserts when required, and adapts based on what the game demands. He’s not afraid to let others shine, and that’s a big reason why the Warriors’ stars respect him so deeply. Curry often credits Green for unlocking his full potential—not just by setting screens or making the extra pass, but by encouraging an unselfish ethos that permeates the locker room.
