Grown-man strength, Draymond Green’s had it since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. Even as a chubby teen, he possessed the bone density of a longshoreman and the urgency of a single father.
He calls it grit. An intangible element that holds up when bigger players try to push him around. That allows him to do the pushing. It made him a champion at Saginaw High School, at Michigan State, with the Golden State Warriors. Grit was his foundation as he became a starting NBA forward, the closing center on a dynasty, a Defensive Player of the Year. All natural Midwestern strength.
But Green entered his 30s. The games piled up, the playoff battles took their toll. His knees, his back, his fortitude all suffered under the stress of life as a defensive anchor. So Green started doing something he never did before, something his natural strength never required him do.
Lift weights.
It’s worked wonders. He’s just under four months from turning 35 years old. Yet, he’s off to yet another DPOY campaign.
“One thing I learned over the last four years or so,” Green said, “you have to lift weights. And I was someone who was always naturally strong. So I’m like, ‘What I’ma lift weights for? These motherf—–s can’t move me now.’ But your body needs it. Your body needs to get stronger as the season goes on to be able to withstand the pounding.”
If a player’s shooting ability is the last to go, then defense is the first.
It’s a grueling craft, defending. The agility necessary for constant reacting. The endurance required when constantly under attack. The physical demands of providing pressure. The humility needed to sustain against greatness, often absent adoration. It wears on one’s joints and ligaments, muscles and bones, ego and energy.
A long tooth is the mark of prey in this kingdom. The young eat the old.
That’s what makes the breed of OG defenders so impressive.
The league is as wide-open as ever. Shooting and ballhandling at every position. Speed and athleticism and skill all over the floor. Imagine being 30-plus, a decade deep into your career and still locking up. Causing problems. Doing the Lord’s work.
And if you’ve ever had to take to the court to put a trash-talking youngster in their place, teach a niece or nephew or cousin how all that goofy dribbling doesn’t work against real defense, and paid for it in your knees and back hours later, you appreciate what they do. You know they’re different.
These dudes are uniquely wired. Their glory is in preventing it, an inglorious task.
“Yeah, it’s taxing,” said Oklahoma City guard Alex Caruso, reputed as one of the best perimeter defenders in the game. “But that comes with the job. It’s taxing for the guys trying to score just as much as it is for guys trying to stop the people from scoring. It just looks worse for us because we usually are the ones that end up on the floor. But it’s a part of the game that I embrace — just doing the dirty work and being the guy to mix it up.”
Alex Caruso, shown here defending Chris Paul, embraces the “dirty work” of defense. (Daniel Dunn / Imagn Images)
Their significance has increased in a skill-centered league, where defense was so disregarded people had to beg the NBA to take a stand against soft whistles and foul-grifters. A player who can be a defensive force, make it a chore to score, be effective guarding multiple positions, be comfortable on an island without the aid of help, is invaluable.
But that means they’ve got to hang on, maintain their excellence beyond typical benchmarks.
That absolutely requires maintaining their bodies. Especially the lower half.
“Basketball is a two-way sport,” Boston’s Jrue Holiday said. “So as much as you train to do stuff offensively, you probably need to do the same thing defensively. … I think I’ve been doing that most of my life. Maybe not in the weight room, but doing defensive slides, wall sits, things that help with your legs, help with your base. I’ve done that since I was little. But then once you kind of add weights to it, getting in the gym or in the weight room, I feel like it helps.”
Green said he “didn’t know what a f—ing core was” until a back injury in 2022 prompted some changes. He stopped relying solely on grown-man strength and developed his core and base strength.
Now he’s on a mission to win another Defensive Player of the Year Award. His lone honor came in 2017 — well before they changed the name to the Hakeem Olajuwon Trophy. Green finished second to Kawhi Leonard in 2016.
Entering Tuesday, the Warriors were holding teams to 41.9 percent shooting (third in the NBA) and 110.1 points per game (seventh). They allowed 107.3 points per 100 possessions (fourth). And there is zero question Green is the genius at the hub of the defense. He starts games as the power forward, serving as a free safety to employ his elite help-side defense. He closes games as the center and last line of defense. And he’ll hop on any player who heats up, whether point guard or elite scoring wing.
If Green pulls this off, he’d be the oldest player ever to win Defensive Player of the Year. The current oldest is the late Dikembe Mutombo, who won it at age 34 in 2001.
Over the last 10 seasons, 25 of the 100 All-NBA Defensive slots went to players age 30 or older. Eight of them made First Team, though one of them was a throwback defensive bully who was still going into his mid-30s named Tony Allen. He was more from the ilk of the previous era.
In the 10 seasons before (2004-05 to 2013-14) players aged 30 and up took up 35 All-NBA Defensive spots. And 11 of them made the First Team, 12 if you count Allen originally with that contingency.
Back in the day, when the game was more physical and Steph Curry hadn’t yet changed the geometry of defense, it was more common for older players to be stalwarts on defense. The 2007 All-NBA Defensive squad was dominated by 30-somethings. Seven were named: Bruce Bowen (35), Jason Kidd (34), Marcus Camby (33), Ben Wallace (32), Tim Duncan (31), Raja Bell (30) and Kevin Garnett (30). Kobe Bryant, 28 at the time, was the only first-teamer under 30.
But since the 3-point era exploded with Golden State, which won its first title of the era in 2015, no more than three players aged 30-and-up made it in a single year. At least, not until last season when bigs Rudy Gobert and Anthony Davis, both 31 at the time, and then-30-year-old Caruso joined Holiday among the recognized best defenders. Giannis Antetokounmpo will likely join them this year.
They represent a contingent of players who maintain their place in the league of youngsters because they are still down to slap the floor. Especially on the perimeter. Derrick White, Josh Hart, Kentavious Caldwell-Pope, Andrew Wiggins, Norman Powell, Kris Dunn, Marcus Smart, Royce O’Neale, Gary Payton II — they’re all in their 30s or will be by season’s end. They are the foes of this new wave of absurd offensive talent.
More are coming behind them, including Mikal Bridges (28) and Bam Adebayo (27).
Their advantage is savvy. They’ve seen so much, experienced just about every attack. Their IQ becomes a weapon. Old heads who make their money on defense don’t slack on film. Especially in a league ripe with a steady influx of ballers.
“I’m better at reading people’s games,” Holiday said, “and what they like to do.”
Caruso is surrounded by Gen Z hoopers on the Thunder. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander is one of the most unstoppable in the league. Jalen Williams and Chet Holmgren are also dynamic offensively.
But Oklahoma City also has a few with same mindset as Caruso, the same spirit. They get after it defensively. They live in the margins of hustle and aggression. They have an appetite for the ugly parts of the game.
“Lu Dort and Cason Wallace are two of the best on-ball defenders in this league,” Caruso said. “It gives me perspective, just seeing how good these guys are. … Honestly, I’m trying to pick up stuff from them just to try and further evolve my game and become a better defender myself.”
The youth help keep the older defenders fresh. They’ve got to practice what they are preaching when sharing defensive recipes with the next wave. Being on top of your game is required when shadowing the likes of Luka Dončić, Ja Morant and Paolo Banchero.
“All of them, for real,” Holiday said when asked which young players give him the most trouble. “They’re all quick. They’re all very, very athletic. They all play the game a lot differently than when I came into the league. So literally all of them.”
That’s why they’re different. The game has changed significantly. They morphed with it.
Defense is a vocation, a science and an art form. It requires a lunch pail, a scientific calculator for a brain and often rhetorical prowess.
Because this new era is teeming with confidence.
“These young dudes talk a lot of s—,” Green said. “The ones talking the most this year was them Wizards youngsters. Kyshawn George and …”
“Bub,” Curry yelled from a distance, speaking of Wizards rookie guard Carlton Carrington.
“Talking the whole game,” Green continued. “Obviously, I love it. I don’t mind it at all. It’s just weird to run into that space where they’re like, ‘Man, I watched you my whole life.’ And then they’re talking crazy. ‘Go at his old a–!’ … The year before Kelly Oubre came here, he was like ‘You had your run. You old now.’ But I was in Year 8, Year 9.”
Not old. But his age has finally caught up to his strength.
(Top photo of Draymond Green blocking Fred VanVleet: Tim Warner / Getty Images)
