Stephen Curry’s astonishing pregame ritual gets an assist

Oracle Arena Security Guard Curtis Jones tosses a ball to Golden State Warriors' Stephen Curry, so, Curry can shoot from the tunnel as part of his pre-game ritual before playing Phoenix Suns during NBA game in Oakland, Calif., on Thursday, April 2, 2015. less Oracle Arena Security Guard Curtis Jones tosses a ball to Golden State Warriors' Stephen Curry, so, Curry can shoot from the tunnel as part of his pre-game ritual before playing Phoenix Suns during NBA game in ... more Photo: Scott Strazzante, The Chronicle Photo: Scott Strazzante, The Chronicle Image 1 of / 10 Caption Close Stephen Curry’s astonishing pregame ritual gets an assist 1 / 10 Back to Gallery

The Assist Man never played for a high school or college team, but he has played some ball, and he knows what the pass means to the Shooter.

“I need to get it to him in the chest, so he can come straight up, like a rhythm jump shot,” says the Assist Man.

Like every assist man, the Assist Man knows that the spotlight is not his. His pass will be quickly forgotten, the glory and the fame go to the shooter, but he is cool with that. This is not about credit; it is about doing your job well.

The Assist Man gets one assist per Warriors’ home game, max.

After making his shot, the Shooter — Golden State’s Stephen Curry — acknowledges the Assist Man’s contribution with a hand slap or a quick bro-hug.

It started three seasons ago. The Shooter, on a whim, on his way back to the Warriors’ locker room after early pregame warm-up, stopped in the tunnel leading away from the arena floor. The Shooter fired up a preposterous shot, a 40-footer from behind the plane of the backboard.

He missed, so the Shooter tried it again. Nobody remembers if he made the crazy shot that night, but he tried it again before the next game. The Shooter is a man of locked-in routines and habits, some of which verge on rituals. This became one.

Setting up the shot

After the early warm-up prior to each home game, the Shooter sets up in the tunnel, takes a pass from the Assist Man, and launches a two-hand set shot. It’s the style of shot that was in vogue back in the ’50s, especially in the East.

If the Shooter misses, someone on the court fetches the ball and gets it back to the Assist Man, who feeds the Shooter again.

The Assist Man’s name is Curtis Jones. He is a security guard assigned to the area next to the Warriors’ bench. This is Grand Central Station, a beehive confluence of Warriors and fans.

The Assist Man maintains order, makes sure traffic flows smoothly. He must keep a lane open for the Warriors’ players, especially for the Shooter, who has become very, very popular.

“Everyone wants to be part of him,” says the Assist Man. “He’s such a nice guy, he wants to accommodate everyone. We try to get him through fast.”

The Assist Man has the best viewing spot in the house, but he never sees the game, not even one play. He stands with his back to the court, keeping an eagle eye on the bench and surrounding area.

Oh, the Assist Man watches the game, but much later, at home, when he cues up the recorded video. Mrs. Assist Man is not a hoops fan, so he watches the games alone, in the midnight hour, wearing out the rewind button, breaking down plays.

The Assist Man grew up in Monroe, La. There was a hoop in the front yard, until the ball bounced through the living-room window. The “court” was moved to the backyard, a rim nailed to a tree adjacent to the vegetable garden.

“If you learn to dribble through rows of corn, you can dribble anywhere,” the Assist Man says.

His family moved to the Bay Area when he was about 14 and, in terms of basketball, the move “broke my rhythm,” so he never played high school ball. But he played summer leagues and pickup games.

“I could run the point and shoot,” he says.

The pregame ritual has a wrinkle. If the visiting team elects to warm up in front of the Warriors’ bench, the Shooter changes his tunnel shot, slinging the ball sidearm about 115 feet to the hoop at the opposite end of the court, a rainbow moonshot.

Practice makes perfect

The Shooter has never made this shot, but he is coming closer, thanks to the Assist Man, who offers range-finding advice based on previous misses.

You’re going too far right every time. Aim for the (NBA) logo.

On the regular tunnel shot, the Shooter needs no advice, but he needs the ball. The Assist Man whips it to him briskly, underhand, like a bowler. The pass is always on the money.

If the Shooter misses and someone gets the ball and throws it directly to the Shooter, he does not shoot the ball. He passes it to the Assist Man and waits for the return pass.

On a team celebrated and acclaimed for its passing, the first assist of every home game goes to a man in a necktie and a sport coat.

Scott Ostler is a San Francisco Chronicle columnist. E-mail: sostler@sfchronicle.com

Twitter @scottostler