Is Steve Kerr the Next Gregg Popovich? A Way Too Early Examination

Is it better to be lucky or good?

At the moment, Steve Kerr is both, and perhaps even more. After some six weeks running Golden State, with a franchise-best 16-game winning streak, the NBA's best record (21-2), and the fastest start of any rookie coach under his belt, it seems as appropriate a time as any to ask the entirely premature, sports radio alarm-sounding question: Is Kerr the second-coming of Gregg Popovich, his former coach and part-time mentor, winner of 984 games, and one of the best, most blessed coaches in NBA history?

For starters, and for whatever it's worth, each held down a GM spot before assuming the sideline. And the pair have a well-documented respect for each other: Popovich praised his former shooting guard as "inclusive" and "participatory" among other semi-glowing adjectives; Kerr noted his own Groundhog Day-style viewing of the Spurs' 2014 championship run as the model of ball movement and poise for his current Warriors' system.

But to scratch the surface of an approximate answer, let's first acknowledge the double-sided paradox for prolific leaders like Popovich, and the "lucky vs. good" axiom: aligning superstars is a necessity before creating a so-called "winning" culture. Consequently, the symbiotic nature underlying the League's dynasties remains one of its greatest mysteries, the obvious, but unclear, chicken-or-the-egg proposition.

For Golden State, both chicken and egg are arguably the Brothers Splash. Without Steph Curry and Klay Thompson fueling its engine, the free-flowing Popovich-ian system Kerr's instituted to rival San Antonio would stall. As such, the first-year coach isn't shy about expressing his gratitude for being the "luckiest coach in NBA history."

But when it comes to challenging for championships consistently, the devil is always in the details. And so far, the early indicators from the former Bulls and Spurs triggerman are quite positive (miniscule sample size or not), maybe even mirroring San Antonio's slow-drip supremacy.

Kerr's story starts with the adoption of those recent Spurs-styled offensive tenants and fluidity; after ranking last in the league in passes made under Rev. Mark Jackson last year with 246 (15 behind the next-to-last Nuggets), the Dubs are currently first in points created by assists (60.0), secondary assists (7.5), and third in assists per game (25.5), resulting in a league-best point differential (+11.0).

One large Australian catalyst is newly instituted center-fulcrum Andrew Bogut, whose deft touch, crafty court-sense, and high-post presence evoke the savvy of Splitter and Duncan, as his career-best passing metrics speak to. (Not to mention, Everyone Loves Draymond.)

Perhaps an equally significant improvement has come via the Kerr-engineered re-emergence of starting small forward Harrison Barnes, beyond ironic given Barnes is only 22 years old. After regressing off the bench in 2013, the 6'8" Ames, Iowa native son was summarily written off, his name floated in trade rumors, his foothold in the franchise unclear (so much so that preseason chatter he'd supplant Andre Iguodala in the starting five was speculated as "sure to bring ire").

Kerr inserted him to start on Day One nonetheless, with a simple directive—"Your job is to go out there to defend and rebound"—and the basic instructions have yielded impressive results, evidenced by Barnes's career bests in field goal percentage (53.1, compared to 39.9 in his sophomore campaign), points (11.6), rebounds (6.5), and, most importantly, three point percentage (43.1, up from 34.7).

And suddenly, with Iguodala's shooting range shrinking, Barnes's ability to space the floor and defend wings looks damn near indispensable. (Meanwhile, Bruce Bowen never averaged double-digit scoring, nor shot better beyond the arc sans one season in his eight in San Antonio).

Barnes and Bogut aside, likely nothing is more important than the Warriors newfound focus on continuity—if the biggest decision of Kerr's infantile coaching career means anything. When he and Jerry West allegedly vetoed management's green light to include Thompson in a Kevin Love deal this summer, Kerr showed an unexpected if not altogether Popovich-like patience. What transpired: Love's question marks blossomed, as did Thompson's ever-improving game and personal bank account after he signed a 4-year, near-max deal. Ultimately, Kerr and West came out aces, solidifying the team's youthful bedrock to rival the final years of Duncan-Ginobili-Parker in the process.

So, what exactly does any of it—holding onto Thompson, empowering Bogut and Barnes, and instituting a promising new system—actually have to do with Pop's Spurs, anyways?

In sum, if San Antonio's Rasputin-like resurgence has taught us anything, it's the importance of protecting what you have, the historicity of their trio longevity included, and the familial professionalism seemingly fostered from it, no matter how heavy-handed the truism, no matter how many George Hill for Kawhi Leonard sacrificial trades are required. (Check out the incredible HEB videos of the Spurs hamming it up like a five-man international odd couple, if you don't believe me.)

That sense of solidarity seems to still carry on with Kerr, as he outed his lack of TNT objectivity and told Doug Gottlieb after San Antonio's Game 6 loss in 2013: "It was the ultimate gut punch. I felt the gut punch myself … I couldn't sleep just thinking about those guys being that close to a title." Once more reaffirming the culture that Kerr carries with him, and is apparently building himself.

Important because, in the NBA, margin-for-error is everything. And in today's "Big Three" age, where stars join forces like mercenaries or Power Rangers, the line between big-game success and failure is thinner than ever, with every minute edge counting a bit more.

And sure, every team is as good as their superstars, but only as great as their role players, game stealers, and the top-down culture from which they emerge: Sean Elliott and Brent Barry, Avery Johnson and Malik Rose, Robert Horry and Robert Horry, Gary Neal and Danny Green. Even Kerr, himself.

Today, Kerr sports serious weaponry, top to bottom: a loaded bench of his own with Phoenix old hand Leandro Barbosa, Mo Speights's borderline MVP-level PER, Shaun Livingston's wingspan and renaissance, Iguodala, and David Lee when healthy; as well as two emerging stars coalescing, both on favorable contracts; and a personal, pragmatic serious-casualness that evokes great coaches past.

It all adds up to the Warriors looking poised themselves to turn the team's fast start into the first chapter of something far more lasting.

And just like Popovich before him, Kerr already seems to be pretty damn good at creating his own luck.