Kurtenbach: LeBron James’ decision leaves Warriors with empty offseason

What are the Warriors going to do with the chalk that they’re keeping dry?

Because I know LeBron James won’t be tossing it into the air before his first home game at Chase Center.

He didn’t choose the Golden State Warriors.

What a shock.

Despite the Warriors operating with a pathetic sense of self-mortification — bending over backward for the mere possibility the King might grace them with his presence — the power of friendship wasn’t enough to lure James to the Bay. He is instead signing with the Philadelphia 76ers, James and his agency, Klutch Sports, announced Friday.

A positive basketball fit couldn’t seal the deal.

James, after all, remains one of the most famous men on the planet. He calls his own shots. He has better, far more lucrative things to consider than hanging with his buddies — they’ll be around after retirement, whenever that might come. He’ll send a jet for them.

Sure, playing with his buddy Draymond Green sounded like a hoot. Running alongside Stephen Curry and maybe even Jimmy Butler has an undeniable appeal.

Steve Kerr’s motion offense is the right kind of puzzle for a basketball genius — an intellectual sandbox for a guy who sees the floor in four dimensions.

But other options held entirely too much sway.

The narrative held too much sway. This way was cleaner — recency bias won’t be his enemy, but his friend.

A near-peerless career with a nice, tidy bow placed on top.

Even in this cynical world, you can’t help but appreciate that.

So where does this incredibly predictable rejection leave Golden State?

Frankly, it doesn’t change a thing.

The Dubs went all-in on James as their magical missing piece. They bet the house on a fantasy.

Crucially, they offered absolutely no alternative route to improvement when he inevitably looked elsewhere.

It’s an arrogant or ignorant way to do business. Perhaps it’s both. The Warriors contain multitudes.

But much like the Jonathan Kuminga debacle last season, the front office refused to take proper stock of reality or stand up for itself. They operated in the dark, armed with nothing but blind hope and a misplaced sense of exceptionalism.

Now, again, they’re left holding an extraordinarily expensive, completely empty bag.

At least James had the decency to make his decision in July. We could be dragging this exhausting media circus out until September.

But even now, the free agency well is dry. James was the last serious, season-altering piece left on the board.

And, in turn, the Warriors literally added no one, save for two draft picks, to a depressing roster that scraped together 37 measly wins last year.

They’ll also be without Moses Moody and Butler for significant chunks of the upcoming campaign.

How’s that for maximizing Curry’s final years of greatness?

How exactly does this patchwork roster provide “meaningful basketball?”

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

So now it’s sell time for Mike Dunleavy, Joe and Kirk Lacob, and the Big Blue PR Machine.

(As if it ever turned off.)

The Warriors will go right back to their ol’ standby: droning on and on about “optionality.” They’ll brag to anyone who will listen about their supposed ability to pivot and make a big move.

Now, that mythical move will be presented as a trade deadline miracle. It’s the Dubs’ biannual cycle of delusion.

They talk a massive game about the deadline, do absolutely nothing of consequence (save for the Butler trade, which was basically a going-out-of-business sale by the Heat), and then make the exact same hollow claims heading into the offseason.

Rinse, repeat.

We are now entering the fourth grueling season of this cycle. At some point, even the most blindly optimistic fans are going to figure out the grift.

What good is optionality if you never actually act on it?

What do the Warriors genuinely plan to do with all this hoarded dry powder?

James wouldn’t have appreciably changed the title math for Golden State this upcoming season anyway.

He is still a phenomenal player, but at 41 years old, he’s a floor-raiser, not a ceiling-raiser.

But let’s be totally honest: these Warriors desperately needed their floor raised.

They won 37 games last year. Doesn’t a 45-win season sound downright heavenly right now?

It might even keep them out of the dreaded, embarrassing play-in tournament.

Was that moderate upside worth the monumental challenge of trading for Anthony Davis and paying his exorbitant salary — Klutch Sports’ clear directive to the Dubs?

Fiscally, it probably made sense for a team desperate for the omnipresent attention it once had.

From a basketball perspective? Probably not.

So, at the very least, I can appreciate the front office’s prioritization there.

But eventually, the Warriors have to start acting like the franchise they believe themselves to be — elite, superior, and top-tier.

At some point, bravado needs to be backed up.

That means occasionally opening itself to making an error of commission. That’s vastly preferable to their endless, agonizing string of errors of omission.

Conservatism has absolutely no place in the modern NBA.

This is a star-driven league where one player can change everything — provided that player’s market research doesn’t include the Googling of “Best Hair Colorists San Francisco.”

No, in this league, aggression — ruthless aggression, even — is the only viable path forward.

Sure, there is an inherent risk. But that’s the only way you get the reward.

Warriors ownership has certainly learned that lesson in the other lucrative areas of their business. They didn’t build a “sports and entertainment” empire by playing it safe.

You would like to think there’s enough hard evidence to apply those same lessons to the actual basketball product. You can probably name them off the top of your head.

And yet, here we are.

Right back where we started from.

This franchise is a year older, but they clearly aren’t a year wiser.