IN THE AFTERMATH of Golden State's Monday rout of the Cleveland Cavaliers, Steve Kerr said, "I thought Steph [Curry] was great. His energy was great, and he set the tone. I love that he took 20 shots." Then, the money phrase: "When he's aggressive, we go."

As Kerr spoke, Klay Thompson leaned against the wall of the crowded media room, dressed in cat-burglar black, hidden between media members, fidgeting and fiddling with his phone. It wasn't clear whether Klay, who makes occasional trips to Klay World, was paying any attention at all. But after he took the stage, he was strictly on message. "I love that he took 20 shots," Thompson said of Curry. "When he's aggressive, we go."

When he's aggressive, we go.

Maybe that's the new mantra, or maybe it's just how the Warriors have learned to discuss an uncomfortable truth -- that today's Steph just isn't as dynamic as last year's Steph.

Curry has produced one signature moment this season when he set the record for 3-pointers in a game, sinking 13 against the New Orleans Pelicans. It was the exception that proved the rule, an evocation of how he used to thrill on a regular basis last season. And in February, following the hype of last season's All-Star weekend, Curry obliterated a tough, six-game road trip in what was essentially his opus: scoring 229 points in 205 minutes, sinking an unfathomable 43 3-pointers. He averaged 43.8 points over the final four of those games, a stretch that included yet another half-court shot in Orlando and culminated in a 46-point (including 12 mostly impossible 3-pointers) performance in Oklahoma City. That game ended with an iconic game winner, casually slung from a spot parallel to the lip of the Thunder logo at half court.

Nobody else was trying this stuff, let alone in the highest-leverage moments, let alone actually succeeding at it.

Just last winter he was redefining everything. His pregame rituals were events, in part because they seemed like windows into a laboratory for a wholly new way of doing basketball. "He's this generation's Jordan," said Jason Kidd. "We all wanted to be like Mike, and children today will grow up seeing Steph." Kevin Garnett declared, "Like Michael Jordan was a whole other thing, this guy is his own thing. It's beautiful for basketball."

Coming off an embarrassing NBA Finals collapse, but with Kevin Durant in tow, the Warriors remained as talked-about as ever, just not because of the guy who drove 90 percent of the interest in their ascent. A man who drew Jordan comparisons from future Hall of Famers suddenly found himself in the backseat of a car he built.

Early in the season, the Warriors obsessed over making Durant comfortable. Curry participated in that project, starting with the free-agency recruitment meeting, after which Curry texted Durant that he couldn't care less who was the face of the franchise, who got the most recognition or who sold the most shoes.

By his own admission, Curry tried to defer from the first moments of training camp. For Durant, it was a process that went about as seamlessly as his "I DO ME, AND I CHILL" Twitter bio would indicate. From the beginning, Warriors KD looked pretty much exactly like Thunder KD. He glided into his shots with customary command, scoring with ease from every angle. He was virtuosic from Day 1, filling in whatever voids Golden State might have on a given night. Whether it was passing, rim protection or fast breaks that end in the meanest Euro-step this side of Giannis Antetokounmpo, Durant excelled at every skill, literally all of them. Well, maybe not literally all of them (more on that later).

Though the focus of scrutiny, Durant appeared unburdened. Victories were toasted with cool Coors Lights. Kerr's Warriors believe in having fun; wins can leave visiting locker rooms strewn with more recyclable materials than a grocery store parking lot. It's an ethos that resonates with Durant, who often notes that basketball doesn't approximate life. With a spartan basketball culture in the rearview, KD was living his.

There was a hiccup here or there, but the Warriors were rolling, and having a blast. The two-time reigning MVP just hadn't quite joined the party. Curry, who'd seized command of the NBA zeitgeist for a couple of seasons, was now playing decently, but he was restrained in approach and too often contained in impact. Everything was going fine, but something wasn't clicking. When asked about Curry's drop-off, the favored Kerr phrase was, "He set the bar so high."

It carries some truth, in that Curry did submit one of the greatest offensive seasons in league history. But it's not quite satisfactory as an explanation for why a 28-year-old superstar has dropped more than seven points in player efficiency rating, or why he was shooting less than 30 percent on pull-up 3-pointers, his defining skill. It's an explanation that would make more sense if the expectations were based on a couple of hot weeks, or maybe even a month. It doesn't make sense in the context of an entire season. There isn't such a thing as an 82-game hot streak. Occam's razor suggests the main reason for Curry's drop-off was, of course, the transfer of power to Durant.

Kerr had resisted admitting as much. Four days before the Christmas Day game, he slyly answered, "Kevin [Durant]," when asked which Warriors All-Star had to undergo the biggest adjustment this season.

"We do a lot of stuff off the ball," Kerr said. "So obviously with KD's arrival, the dynamics changed a little bit. So, Steph has the ball a little less this year. So does KD." Christian Petersen/Getty Images

Fissures had been forming. Genial Steph was noticeably frustrated with the state of affairs, perhaps more so than he'd ever been in the Kerr era. He played poorly overall on Christmas -- 15 points on 36 percent shooting -- and had barely touched the ball down the stretch. In the final four minutes, Curry took as many shots as Cavs role player Richard Jefferson (one). Though it was a regular-season game, Kerr elected to sub Curry out on the last defensive possession for the taller and longer Shaun Livingston. It was an understandable move to thwart a LeBron James pick-and-roll aimed directly at Curry, but it amplified the embarrassment. Steph's head was in his hands as Kyrie Irving hit the game winner over Thompson.

Curry's reputation was taking a beating, and the Warriors didn't appear substantially more assured of a title than they would've been with last season's squad. The wooing of Durant wasn't like Miami's super-team formation, which arose out of LeBron and Dwyane Wade's deep friendship. Curry and Durant got along just fine, but Curry simply went along with the pursuit of KD -- it wasn't something he concocted. He'd been a good soldier by accepting what was right for the franchise, by abruptly leaving his basketball camp to fly to the Hamptons. For this, his reward had been a diminished reputation, offensive marginalization and little outward, organizational praise for the sacrifice.

"I think Steph has probably had the biggest adjustment of all of our players from Kevin's arrival."

A week later, still in the wake of the fourth-quarter Christmas collapse, Kerr finally conceded that the biggest adjustment had not been Durant's, after all. "I think Steph has probably had the biggest adjustment of all of our players from Kevin's arrival," he told the attending media. On the season, Curry's usage rate remains slightly higher than Durant's -- 28.9 compared to 27.6. But when Curry's was at 32.6 last season, the Warriors set a new NBA wins record.

A few days after Christmas, Curry spoke up about the state of affairs. "I definitely want to be in more pick-and-roll situations," he said at Golden State's practice facility when asked whether the ball was in his hands enough this season. "Whether I'm getting shots or whether we're manufacturing ball movement, that's a strength of ours, regardless of how teams play us."

Perhaps not the strongest words, but this was highly unusual for the ever-deferential superstar. Curry has never been one to openly question team strategy, but he'd reached his accommodation limit.

IF A DISCUSSION of the frequency of a play type can be deemed throwing down the gauntlet, then Curry had just done so. Kerr needed to act. And by all appearances, he has.

According to player-tracking data provided to ESPN.com by STATS LLC, Curry received only 18.5 screens per game through the first 32 games of the season, down slightly from last season's rate of 18.8. On the season, he has seen 19.6 screens per game; 25 starting point guards have seen more. The team has scored only 1.09 points per play, which is 20th in the league. Hence, Curry's public and private frustration.

But since that Christmas Day loss, the story has changed. Per SportVU data, the Warriors have bumped up the screens that the reigning MVP sees to 23.4 per game, and the team's scoring average has ballooned to 1.16 points per play, which would rank fourth best over a full season. Curry has nearly doubled his scoring average out of the pick-and-roll, from 4.9 through Christmas Day to 8.4 since.

Adding the 2014 MVP into the mix was supposed to launch the Warriors' offense into another stratosphere. But that wasn't the case in the early going. Some important context: With Curry on the floor last season, the Warriors torched opponents to the tune of 116.7 points per 100 possessions, according to NBA.com data. With Durant in the fold, that same number actually dipped to 115.7 through the Christmas Day game, an almost unthinkable outcome given the addition of Durant's talents. But then Curry piped up about his offensive involvement. Since then? The Warriors' offense has climbed to 120.3, right about where many expected they'd settle.

For now, it appears Kerr has snuffed out this particular fire, but managing the offense of four All-Stars will likely remain a challenge. It's a challenge any coach would readily accept, but that truth doesn't magically fix the issue. No matter what Kerr does, someone won't be getting the ball enough. Since Golden State has emphasized Curry, KD's shot attempts and usage have suffered a slight dip.

The pick-and-roll has had hiccups this season when run by the Warriors' two best players. Brian Spurlock/USA TODAY Sports

"I look at the numbers," Kerr said of the distribution of shots between stars. "We obviously play a little different than most teams. We've been last in the NBA in pick-and-roll plays three years in a row. We do a lot of stuff off the ball. So obviously with KD's arrival, the dynamics changed a little bit. So, Steph has the ball a little less this year. So does KD. Sometimes I'll just, if I think Steph needs the ball more, I'll call more plays for him. But for the most part, it kind of happens organically."

There might still be one more way to smooth out the Steph/KD dynamic -- and it's the way many envisioned this season would go. The Warriors could, at some point, get the Steph/KD pick-and-roll going. Theoretically, this is an unstoppable play: two great shooters -- one big, one small -- forcing defenses to make impossible choices. In reality, it has gone poorly. In the apotheosis of the Warriors' crunch-time woes this season, their loss of a 24-point lead to Memphis, Durant was actively avoiding this play, much to Draymond Green's screaming chagrin. Curry stood with the rock, ready to run a pick-and-roll. Durant demanded the ball back, prompting an awkward exchange, an isolation brick and the Green histrionics.

"It's funny when you go through stuff on paper and it looks better than it does on the floor," Kerr said when asked about a pick-and-roll involving his two best players. "Then there are other things that you don't think would work and then you realize when you watch tape that it's something that you got to do. There is plenty of that. As I said in training camp, we will be experimenting a lot and looking at a lot of different things. Those are all things that will come into play."

SO WHAT TO make of the Curry/KD pick-and-roll after watching the tape? This season, 56 Curry/KD pick-and-rolls have resulted in 54 points (nine of them off free throws) on 54 shots, with eight turnovers. In other words, not great.

The roadblock likely has something to do with how rarely Durant acts as, well, a roadblock. Durant's skill set might include everything but screening, an underappreciated if often ignored aspect of basketball. While Green relishes pursuing defenders like a linebacker and cutting off the right angles, Durant almost never so much as grazes his mark. Often that's intentional strategy, as Durant prefers slipping his screens, running away before defenders decide on what to do. But he likely has to start making contact for this to be a viable play under pressure.

It's key to making the Warriors' crunch time function, as they often move from a motion offense to a deliberate pick-and-roll attack late in games.

"Late in games, holds and grabs aren't going to be called, and that's not an indictment of referees," Kerr explained of the strategic shift. "Look at the last play of the Cleveland game on Christmas. League comes out, and says, 'Oh yeah, he got tripped.' If that's in the middle of the game, they call that. If that's at the end of the game, they don't. There's not as much freedom of movement late in games."

Whether it's late or early, the Warriors' best screen-and-rolls involve Green, which is fine for involving Golden State's occasional squeaky wheel. Here's the issue: It relegates at least one MVP to the periphery. That worked for the Warriors when they blitzed the Phoenix Suns late on Nov. 13 at Oracle. Durant hung around the corner, acting as a highly overqualified Harrison Barnes, as the Warriors blew past the Suns with a series of Steph/Draymond pick-and-rolls. The sequence spoke to how Barnes' limitations weren't necessarily Golden State's. His smaller, defined role was part of the structure that allowed others to flourish.

But sidelining Durant is hardly the long-term solution. He didn't change his life to watch basketball history happen, a foot from the bench. Durant passivity can't be a solution to a dearth of Curry aggression.

"Nothing is ever done. No team is ever complete," said Warriors GM Bob Myers, the architect of a hypothetically totally complete roster. "It takes years sometimes for players to learn how to play together, for teams to learn how to play together. It seems like Steph's been a little more aggressive lately; which, I think, if you take a step back and look at how he approached it, he was probably more unselfish at the outset; which, I think, is the right way because he's shown when he's asked and wants to turn it on, he can do that. So it's been nice to see him continue to be aggressive, especially over the last four or five games. I think it's been good."

Myers finished with a thought on how Curry and Durant might be able to smooth the rough edges going forward: "The best thing is they really like each other. I know it might not seem like a lot, but that's what makes any situation solvable."

In the background of these central questions of role, ego and pressure, the Warriors are statistically incredible, claiming a better point differential than the one they'd finished with last season. In the bigger picture, everything is fine -- better than fine. This is all just a prelude to when things won't be so peachy, when the playoff crucible tests all this vaunted talent.

As happened last season, expectations have a way of weighing down the favored, making the rote a nervy adventure. By that point, the Warriors need to have mastered their most basic riddle: Who gets the ball? When Curry's aggressive, they go. But can Durant go with him?

Additional reporting from ESPN's Tom Haberstroh.