by an unceasing work ethic, which is in turn fueled by a nagging sense that Green is still the undersized kid who's not good enough.

"In high school," he says, "everyone said, 'Draymond will be a low-major college player at best.' After that, they said, 'Mid-major.' No respect, still. Then I'm going to Michigan State and they say, 'He will never play there. Too slow, not going to be able to play for Tom Izzo.' Then I get drafted, second round, and it's, 'Good college player, but he's not going to make it in the NBA.' Critics ..." He stops. His face puckers. He's bitter. "They keep me going."

Everything about Green is expressive, a gift from his voluble mother, Mary Babers-Green, and from his hometown, Saginaw, Michigan. Deep inthe Rust Belt some 100 miles north of Detroit, with a poverty rate hovering near 35 percent, "Sagnasty" left its mark on Green. It made him brash enough to walk into a convenience store as a 4-year-old and demand juice. "Don't you know who I am?" he shouted, according to his mother. "I'm Draymond Green!"

Today Green's nonstop talk stretches from polite to bombastic, and only some of it is an act: When Curry, the most popular Warrior, shies away from too many klieg lights, Green takes it upon himself to speak out, which turns the spotlight toward him. Green takes the heat for his team, offers a release valve and gives the Warriors a needed slice of bad-boy toughness. After Milwaukee breaks Golden State's 24-game win streak in