Warriors superstar Stephen Curry talks about coming back with the same mentality as last year as well as his high expectations to play even better to try and repeat. (1:25)

OAKLAND -- Life has changed in the Bay Area, where the Golden State Warriors have undergone a sudden metamorphosis from local heroes to the NBA's "it" team.

Golden State's media day on Monday made that caterpillar to butterfly transformation more evident, with its large NBA playoffs podium set up and flurry of questions about TV appearances and upcoming monster contracts.

"Chinese fans want me to tell you to please bring Riley," a Chinese journalist said in reference to Stephen Curry's now internationally famous daughter.

The Warriors have gone Hollywood, or Silicon Valley to be more local with the analog. That's not necessarily a bad thing, considering it stems from success. The key will be how the defending champs handle arriving at something more gilded than golden.

When asked if the Warriors were susceptible to Pat Riley's infamous "disease of more," a corrosive selfishness that afflicts teams fresh off ultimate victory, coach Steve Kerr was wasn't buying it.

"Well, I'd be surprised if we had any of that disease of more as Riley called it," Kerr told the TrueHoopTV podcast back on Sept. 8. "We have guys who are just naturally very, very unselfish and they really get along well." After a pause, Kerr added, "There's always contract stuff."

Yes, that contract stuff looms, just a bit -- insofar as something can loom over a team this copacetic. Harrison Barnes and Festus Ezeli are both up for big extensions, and they both (understandably) kept mum about it when asked on Monday. Barnes termed such negotiations, "outside my circle of competency."

The upcoming Barnes' deal is already a topic of conversation among teammates, who are wowed by the figures discussed. They're also smart enough to grasp why Barnes might be the team's highest paid player next season: That new TV money's flooding in.

After winning a championship, the world has gotten smaller for Stephen Curry, Klay Thompson and the Warriors. AP Photo/Ben Margot

Musing on whether he could help Barnes get paid, Andre Iguodala said, "Harrison's [contract] numbers are so large that it doesn't really matter. Rich is rich, he'll be fine."

When Barnes chided Bogut about his car collection, the Aussie shot back that Harrison could buy a gold plated auto upon signing his extension. These are jokes, to be clear, but it remains to be seen how teammates take to the reality of their little brother suddenly becoming big bank.

Kerr's Warriors have succeeded in large part due to ego subversion. Golden State is long on depth and reliant on many contributors who could have larger roles elsewhere. Iguodala accepts coming off the bench and lifts a team in a role he could have considered beneath him. Starting center Bogut sits in the Finals and cheers heartily the whole way through. Last season, players passed the ball more and, not so coincidentally, won more, too. It might sound corny and cliché, but unselfishness wins championships. Talent does, too, but that talent is optimized in a system in which players help each other.

Golden State's coaches and players are excited about what that talent might accomplish now. Routines have set in, skills have sharpened. Sets that resulted in turnovers are now run with ease. Last year, the ball moved. This year, the coaches want it to move on autopilot. There's an internal belief that the Warriors will be even better this season, crazy as that might sound. The expectation isn't 67 wins, but instead a Spurs-like fluidity on offense when it's really needed. Such a flowing offensive attack was lacking at times last postseason.

The macro challenge for the Warriors is to maintain a collective spirit amid the ego-amplifying attention that comes with success. The forces of fame can potentially warp individual players' sense of self, changing how they relate to one another. It's not a dire concern, but it is something past title teams have grappled with.

For their best player, maintaining normalcy might come naturally. Curry appears comfortable as he tours the world, hawking a shoe and video game concurrently, showing up on every TV set.

"I'm still the same person," Curry said. "Still do the same stuff in my spare time. That keeps me grounded, keeps me normal."

That's the paradox of Curry: In crazy conditions, he exhibits the abnormal quality of staying normal.

Then Curry summarized what the change felt like: "Going out and doing things, you get recognized a lot more. The world has kind of gotten smaller."

As the Warriors got bigger, their world got smaller. Curry can play a casual round of golf with the president. Draymond Green can nod his head and buildings pop up in East Lansing. Grasping the trophy means you can reach out and touch so many other dreams.

They're still the same people, though, as Curry might note. As he explained his offseason, a familiar sound cut through the words. Green was in front of a camera backstage, flexing and screaming into the lights as he's done so often at Oracle. They're more famous, more heralded than before, but this is a team we know. They retain the capacity to be great in a world that finally notices.