Jackson set a torch to the Warriors' season before it even started, brazenly demanding a trade before his three-year contract extension kicked in, and now comes the karmic payback. Charlotte is the league's lowest-scoring team, with arguably its most ponderous offense. In coach Larry Brown, Jackson will see a disturbing mirror of Nelson - a coach on his way out, making too many people wonder why he's cluttering up the scene. The Eastern Conference playoffs will go on without the Hornets, and unless they plan on moving Jackson - always a possibility under the flighty Brown - he'll be looking at a very bleak twilight to his career.

If the Warriors had dealt with Cleveland, they would have acquired some combination of Zydrunas Ilgauskas, who has talked of retirement at season's end, longtime NBA disappointment Wally Szczerbiak, who isn't even on the team the Cavs would hold his rights in a sign-and-trade, and Delonte West, who faces gun-possession charges, fights a constant battle with his bipolar disorder and has been deemed too risky for the Cavs to trust. One scenario, typical of salary-cap lunacy, had the Warriors acquiring Szczerbiak and West for the specific purpose of waiving them - and thus ditching their contracts - after the season. Nice.

So just forget about the talent angle. The Warriors weren't getting a big man, someone who could actually change the structure of their team. They're getting Raja Bell, a tough-minded shooting guard who is 33 years old and facing surgery - perhaps sooner than later - to repair a torn ligament in his left wrist. And they're getting Vladimir Radmanovic, who at 6-foot-10 can't rebound and doesn't play a lick of defense but can really shoot from deep. That's when he's got his head on straight.

During the 2006 playoffs, with the Clippers, Radmanovic showed up for a playoff game in curlers - or so it appeared, his hair strung together by garish green rubber bands. This is the guy who chose an All-Star break to go snowboarding for the first time, separated his shoulder, then lied to the Lakers about the cause of the injury. "He's a space cadet," Lakers coach Phil Jackson once said of Radmanovic. "He could be on Mars."

Actually, he is on Mars now, a suffocating atmosphere where players find it difficult to breathe. It's a place the Warriors lamely call "Golden State" instead of Oakland. It's a place where clearing cap space for the so-called free-agent bonanza next summer doesn't really matter, because none of the big names have any intention of coming here. It's a place where Nelson, hulking over the proceedings like a large dark cloud, remains the biggest problem.

If Chris Cohan were to sell the team, the chain of life-changing events would be marvelous to behold. The front office would be cleaned out, top to bottom, and Nelson would be forced out of the coaching job. But that's like waiting for the Castro brothers to relinquish power, or Al Davis to surrender his grip on the Raiders - a hideous, torturous wait that could take hundreds of years that's right; don't put anything past these guys.

The real truth about the Warriors , beyond any Jackson shenanigans or a dysfunctional roster, is that Nelson has lost the team. Jackson stayed quiet, but allowed his agent to rip Nelson to shreds. Monta Ellis had no problem launching an argument with Nelson in New York in front of reporters. Anthony Randolph has had on-and-off emotional issues with Nelson since the moment his career began last season. And instead of letting Stephen Curry develop at a reasonable pace, Nelson methodically curtailed his playing time - and with it, his confidence. When Nelson gave Curry all of two minutes in Madison Square Garden - a place where the kid badly wanted to make an impression - it wasn't any kind of learning experience. It was like sending him to his room, and Curry, in his quiet and classy way, was deeply insulted.

So the interminable wait continues. Last year, while giving a deposition in his lawsuit against Dallas owner Mark Cuban, Nelson said he was "tired of coaching." More recently, he said he was "ready to retire after last season." It would have been a beautiful thing for all parties concerned, but like everything associated with this team, it's a dream scenario that never actually happens. Picture a group of men tumbling awkwardly down a flight of stairs, ass over teakettle, and you've got the Warriors' brain trust.