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Stephen Jackson, after being ejected in the Game 2 loss at Dallas, was all smiles walking to the team bus. After all, the Warriors had gotten the split they wanted in this improbable first-round playoff appearance and postgame basketball was heading back to Oracle for the first time in 14 years.

Jackson had to walk past a lounge full of Mavericks fans in the bowels of the arena. They pounded on the glass window as they taunted and jeered him.

Jackson stopped in front of the window and dropped his bag. He pulled out a wad of cash and held it up like a cheeseburger; with the other hand he lifted the diamond necklace on his neck with his thumb. Related Articles Oracle Arena was on another level during Warriors ‘We Believe’ run

“But I’m rich,” he said with a grin as he bobbed to a song only he could hear. He then picked up his bag and walked off.

The We Believe Warriors are impossible to forget.

In the grand scheme of success stories, all the 2006-07 Warriors did was win a playoff series. Not that impressive. Yet, it’s been 10 years, and their special place in franchise history is still reserved.

The franchise currently boasts four of the best players in the NBA, have averaged 69 wins over the last three seasons and now hold championship expectations. But that moment in time from 2007 hasn’t lost its luster. That crew is still legendary in these parts.

“We caught the imagination not only of this city but the U.S,” Matt Barnes said. “The way that team was orchestrated with trades late in the season. The run we made to make the playoffs. And then to make history in the first round and then battle in the second round. It was crazy.”

But this team isn’t special merely because it ended a 13-season playoff drought by winning 16 of its last 21 games. Or because it went on to beat title favorite Dallas, becoming the first No. 8 seed to knock off a No. 1 seed in a seven-game series. Or because it had a memorable rallying cry: “We Believe.”

That team remains a critical part of the Warriors’ lore primarily for two reasons.

One: That improbable run was pulled off by the most improbable of casts. This was an All-Star team of the rejected, written-off and unproven. That added an extra layer of special.

Two: it paved the way for the juggernaut that plays in Oracle now. The “We Believe” Warriors cracked the dam.

“It was incredible that we came together in a short period of time and made history,” Jason Richardson said. “You see fans in the stands like, ‘Hey man, I remember you. You were great in Golden State. You’re the reason why I’m a Warriors fan.’ We wish we coulda had that team together for one more year or something like that – that’s what sports does for people like myself. It creates memories with your teammates, with fans, with family members.”

For the longest time, We Believe was the greatest memory in the modern Warriors’ family.

This group was improbable. Their success was sudden and jarring. They put Golden State on the map, and they did it with a panache unbecoming of the Warriors.

This wasn’t a collection of young players coming into their own together, but a sudden conglomeration of reputed knuckleheads and unprovens. They weren’t pegged to have the discipline, or the fortitude, to win in the NBA. And they were led by a coach known as much for his drama as his obvious genius.

Stephen Jackson, who was known for the Malice in the Palace and still had a strip club shooting case hanging over his head, was the ultimate leader. Baron Davis was the elite player many thought he couldn’t be again.

Jason Richardson was clutch in the big moments after years of being the best player on a loser. Al Harrington was a productive starter after being a reserve in Indiana. Matt Barnes, a training camp invite who was contemplating a football career, proved he could be productive in the NBA.

Monta Ellis and Andris Biedrins were little used reserves fresh out of high school the year before. Adonal Foyle was the caboose on a long list of bad contracts. Kelenna Azubuike was an undrafted D-League call-up.

This Cinderella bunch was atypical, and that uniqueness sticks. They created this capsule by defying their reputations. And in the process, they defied the franchise’s reputation.

“Not to disrespect anybody on the team, but just a bunch of guys at the time that nobody wanted,” Barnes said. “It all happened at the right time. That’s what made it so special.”

But their scars were their bond. Their defiance was their chemistry. Their swagger was their life force.

Davis brought a stable of stars to Oracle with him. Jessica Alba and Cash Warren. Kate Hudson and Owen Wilson. Don Nelson turned Woody Harrelson and Michael Rappaport into regulars. Suddenly, Snoop was wearing navy and gold instead of purple and gold.

They played with a flare, an arrogance that bordered on delusional. And it captivated the nation.

This team was on a quest for respect and relevance. They got it in 2007. They gave long-suffering fans a fantasy experience where their team was a contender.

“For me, this was probably my favorite tenure,” said Davis, who was traded from New Orleans in 2005. “One, because of the connection with the fans, the connection with the city. It was real and authentic and something that helped me in a time where people thought that they were trading a deadbeat. My goal was to make sure that I made them regret trading me for those two players.”

Richardson: “It’s amazing the relationship that I had and still have with those fans in Oakland. It almost validates my career.”

It also validated the fan base and the franchise.

The We Believe Warriors revealed what was possible with this franchise, in this area. They tapped into the imagination, made dreaming en vogue for a fan base that had mostly known nightmares.

The sentiment after We Believe: “If the Warriors ever put a title contender on the court …” And in the crowd for this moment was Joe Lacob, a long-time season ticket holder. This team highlighted the potential that convinced him to buy the Warriors in 2010.

They also gave some credence to the viability of small ball.

“The way this team plays now, there’s a lot of similarities,” said Azubuike, a Warriors TV analyst. “They have more of an identity than even we did back then, and they do it more consistently. The way they play unselfishly, the way they shoot the ball … They play with so much joy like we did.”

Before Stephen Curry, Klay Thompson and Andre Iguodala were raining 3s, it was Davis, Richardson and Jackson.

Before Kevin Durant became the ultimate stretch-four, Harrington illustrated how a power forward who could play on the perimeter opened the floor.

Before Draymond Green became the defensive weapon the Warriors could sick on anybody, it was Jackson proving that toughness and IQ could make up for lacking size.

Before Steve Kerr turned to the small lineup to create mismatches, Nelson banked on it to compensate for lack of big men and to create mismatches.

Before the champion Warriors used their strong locker room bond as the anecdote for adversity, the We Believe Warriors leaned on chemistry to overcome their weaknesses.

Before the nation despised the current Warriors for being super villains, they loved the 2006-07 Warriors for being super villains.

That is why the legacy of We Believe won’t die.

Have a favorite ‘We Believe’ memory to share? Drop us a short note about it and we’ll publish a mix of those online in the days ahead. Email to sports@bayareanewsgroup.com. Please include your full name and hometown.