Padecky: Warriors put Petaluma man in front row for fan frenzy

Dan Martinez is an eyewitness to history. Martinez has experienced the fervor, the kind of love and affection and wild-eyed frothing that if seen on the street would warrant a call to the ambulance. Ah, but these are the Golden State Warriors, The Show, the way Magic Johnson and his Lakers were once The Show. Crazy goofy is permitted, if not encouraged.

“I’m not old enough to experience the Beatles,” said Petaluma’s Martinez, 41. “But everyone has said this is like being around the Beatles. Having been around the team I now can get a sense of what the Beatles must have been like.”

This is what it’s like.

It’s Jan. 30. The Warriors are in Philadelphia. The night before they will play the Sixers, they are entering the Wells Fargo Arena for a shootaround. Above the tunnel player entrance, about 30 feet above the pavement, a father and young son are perched, a metal fence in front of them, with vertical bars you would find in a prison.

The dad yells to Steph Curry, the Warriors’ point guard who now leads The Show.

“Please sign!”

On a long string/rope the father lowers two placards on a clipboard. Attached to one clipboard is a pen. Curry stops, waits patiently for them to reach him. Curry removes the pen, signs both placards, gives a tug and up they are hoisted. As they make their journey skyward, the father profusely thanks Curry. Curry responds by taking out his cellphone and filming the ascent.

Two things become immediately obvious.

“This is not typical action of the average NBA player, much less a superstar,” said Martinez, the senior director of public relations for the Warriors. “It’s single-digit freezing. The players are rushing inside. It’s cold. They want to go where it’s warm. Makes sense. They’re on the road. Yet Steph stops and takes the time.

“So when people ask me if Steph is really that good of a guy, I say yes. In fact, I tell people he’s actually a better guy off the court. Steph understands what his fans mean to him and what he means to his fans.”

And the other thing? Father and son didn’t just happen along by the players’ entrance.

Oh, there’s the Warriors! I think I’ll drop two clipboards from 30-foot strings so he can sign.

No, this was a planned, calculated move that took some research. In the dead of winter. On the road.

“When we enter hotels on the road,” said Martinez, who makes about half the road trips, “many fans won’t push for an autograph. They just want to say they saw him. They are there just to take a glimpse.”

And if by chance they can see more than the top of his head, boo-yah.

There’s Steph Curry. I actually saw he has arms and legs. Wow, wait til grandma hears about it.

Once Martinez was shocked at the attention the Warriors and Curry in particular get on the road. Not anymore.

“When we played that night in Philly,” Martinez said, “we were told it was the second-toughest ticket to get in Sixers history. The only ticket tougher to get in Philly was when the Sixers retired Allen Iverson’s jersey.”

The Philly arena was packed. But these are the Sixers, the worst team in the NBA.

“It’s because the Warriors were in town,” said Martinez, in his 15th year with the team.

If it’s possible for Martinez to be more stunned about the Warriors’ success - remember the bottom-feeding days when they missed the playoffs 12 consecutive years - it’s that he’s in this position at all.

“I think about that a lot,” Martinez said.

Funny, how things work out when you go along for the ride and just stay in the car.

A ticket seller from the Sacramento Kings called Martinez back in 1995. After graduating from Petaluma High School in 1992, Martinez was a student on his way to get a communications degree from UC Davis. He and a couple buddies had season tickets to the Kings. A three-sport star for the Trojans, Martinez wanted to have a career in sports.

Would Martinez like to renew his Kings season ticket package? Sure, Martinez said. By the way, do you have any internships available? Well, yes, we do. In ticket sales. I’ll take anything and anything he did.

“So I would go to malls and put Kings flyers on windshields,” Martinez said. “I’d get the Yellow Pages and find businesses to call. But I got to go to Kings games twice a week.”

While there, Martinez became friends with the Kings’ public relations director, Travis Stanley. The Kings gig lasted a year, and Stanley left. Four years later, Stanley took the same position with the Warriors and asked Martinez if he would like a job.

Fifteen years later, Martinez shook hands with President Barack Obama at the White House. As is custom, the president welcomes last year’s NBA champions.

“Out of high school,” Martinez said, “if you had told me I’d be eventually working in the NBA as a PR person, I would have asked you what ‘PR’ stood for. And do people get paid to do that?”

So Martinez went along for the ride and didn’t get out of the car, didn’t get distracted. When I bumped into Martinez at a Warriors game this year, I said, “You know you’re living the dream? This is a team you can’t help but watch with players who are having fun because of a coach who is grounded.”

“I am aware of that,” Martinez said. “I definitely know how unique this situation is. No one in NBA history has played the game the way the Warriors play it. They’re so enjoyable to watch. And when we are on the road, playing a night game, the whole team goes out to eat together afterward. Because it’s a night game we rent out a restaurant from 11 p.m. to 2 a.m.

“The team is not split into factions. Jason Thompson, who we just released, was holding a benefit for his foundation in Philly. He had only been with the team a couple months. He wasn’t with us when we won the championship. But he asked the players if they could come to his charity benefit. No one would have looked the other way if no one came. They all did!”

Yes, about this time a reader might cast a critical eye to the Up With People tone of Martinez. After all, when you win, everyone’s happy and everyone has a team of best friends. And that would make sense except for this: The Warriors have had plenty of opportunities to splinter. Curry’s pregame routine alone is enough to fracture huge egos.

“It’s become a legend what Steph does before the game,” Martinez said.

That would be the dribbling exhibition. Television stations in basketball-happy Boston, New York and Chicago have televised those drills LIVE to their viewership.

“The minute the doors open, the fans rush down to get as close to the court as possible to see Steph do his thing,” Martinez said.

Yes, this is Steph Curry and his Warriors like it was Magic and his Lakers. But Magic and Curry were not resented by their teammates for the very same reason - those two guards were unselfish. They made their teammates better.

So when Curry takes five jump shots from halfcourt before each game, he doesn’t do it to show off or to intimidate the other team.

“Steph wants to work on his form, to make sure it stays the same no matter where he shoots,” Martinez said. “Before a half-dozen games this year he’s made all five from halfcourt. He’s just having fun.”

Having fun? When was the last time you heard those two words refer to any professional athlete? Fun and professional sports are mutually exclusive. How can you have fun when you are paid millions and millions are watching?

Because you don’t refuse an autograph dangling from a 30-foot string in the dead of winter. You show perspective; it’s an autograph the fans seek, not the keys to your Mercedes. Coach Steve Kerr demands it, Curry shows it and the team follows willingly.

“They are, for the lack of a better word,” said Martinez - and I could tell he didn’t want to say it but he had no choice - “normal.”

To contact Bob Padecky email him at bobpadecky@gmail.com.