Kurtenbach: Warriors’ time on Kuminga decision is up. Their options are less than appealing

It was circled in red, highlighted in neon, and it might have even earned one of those sad-looking basketball stickers on your wall calendar.

For months, Jan. 15 was supposed to be the grand opening of the Jonathan Kuminga bazaar; the day was when trade restrictions lifted and the Golden State Warriors could finally swap their most confounding asset for a missing piece of their championship puzzle.

But as the sun rises on this long-awaited dawn, the Warriors don’t look like shrewd dealmakers preparing to fleece the league. No, they look like a desperate homeowner trying to unload a haunted house in a flood zone.

The question, as the big day arrives, isn’t “What can the Warriors get for Jonathan Kuminga?”

The question is far more embarrassing: “Who actually wants this guy?”

Let’s look at what the Dubs are offering everyone and anyone, shall we?

Kuminga hasn’t seen the floor since Dec. 18. He has been collecting dust, ostensibly healthy, pinned to the bench like a butterfly in a display case.

Any team trading for him now isn’t acquiring a basketball player. They are acquiring a concept. They are buying into the “Idea of Kuminga” — a volatile cryptocurrency that has rug-pulled investors for five years running.

And the worst part of it all? The tease.

There was a moment when it looked like everything was going to work out between Kuminga and the Warriors.

We all saw it — that five-game stretch to start this season. For a week in October, he looked like the Prince That Was Promised. He defended. He passed. He attacked the rim with a ferocity that made you wonder if all that offseason drama was actually worth it. A fire was lit under Kuminga — perhaps from the torch the Warriors thought Steph Curry would be handing him in a year or two.

It turns out that stretch of play did more harm than good. It wasn’t a breakout; it was an indictment.

When you play like your head coach has been wanting you to play for five years for five games and then vanish into the ether of self-centered play for the next 13, culminating in your permanent benching, you aren’t proving your ceiling; no, you’re confirming your on-court character. You’re telling the world, “Oh, I can do these things that help my team win. I simply choose not to.”

Who wants to sign up for conditional competence?

Because surely there’s no one eagerly looking to fill their vacancy for an empty-calorie scorer.

And so here we are.

Kuminga thinks of himself as something like a luxury car. He deserves special treatment, special attention. He’s a head-turner, represented by Aaron Turner. And you know what? He might be.

Because, like a luxury call, Kuminga is rapidly depreciating.

And even worse: As of Jan. 15, he is worth exactly zero dollars and zero cents to the Warriors so long as Steve Kerr is the head coach.

The divorce papers should have been signed in October 2024. Remember the Nuggets fiasco? That should have been the end of it. The headlines screamed that Kuminga had “lost faith” in Kerr. It was a crisis. It was a line in the sand.

But the Warriors, in their infinite “light years” of wisdom, tried to smooth it over.

They tried to patch a cracked foundation with duct tape and PR quotes. They refused to acknowledge the truth because they were intoxicated by athletic potential and their own perceived genius.

The result? The headline has flipped. It’s no longer about Kuminga losing faith in Kerr. It’s that Kerr has lost all faith in Kuminga. This well is poisoned.

So now, general manager Mike Dunleavy Jr. faces the toughest part of his job:

The public admission from this organization that an error has been made.

Yes, it won’t be easy to sell Kuminga to someone else. But that should be a hell of a lot easier than selling that deal to team CEO and Kuminga’s No. 1 fan Joe Lacob.

Are the Warriors — specifically Lacob — willing to admit they were wrong? Are they willing to swallow their pride and take pennies on the perceived (but not actual) dollar?

They’ve done it before, when they traded James Wiseman in a four-team deal that brought back Gary Payton II (after some administrative issues).

I’m not sure there’s an easy win — and an easy sell to the boss man — like that this time around.

Because let’s be honest about the economics here: The return the Warriors will get for Kuminga today is going to be significantly worse than what they could have gotten this past summer. And that return is worse than what was on the table at the trade deadline before that. And that package was worse than the summer before that.

The chart is pointing down. It’s a red line crashing that’s crashing through the floor. It’s Under Armour stock.

For years, the Warriors held onto Kuminga because they were terrified of trading away a future superstar. They were paralyzed by the fear of him blossoming in another jersey.

Now? They should be terrified that he’s going to stay.

They are holding a ticking time bomb that refuses to explode — it just sits there, ticking loudly. He’s been a pro about this whole situation — he’s just going about his business, day in, day out, not making a fuss about anything — but well, his mere presence with the team is a statement that cannot be ignored.

So if a trade happens after Jan. 15 — and I’m not guaranteeing it — don’t expect a blockbuster, and don’t expect a star.

Because the Warriors aren’t looking for a fair exchange of players and picks anymore. They are looking for a service.

You know those 1-800-GOT-JUNK commercials? The ones where smiling guys in uniforms come to your house, point at a weird, heavy, unusable sofa in your basement, and haul it away for a fee?

That’s the Kuminga trade market right now.

The Warriors aren’t coming out even, and they aren’t going to get paid to move him.

No, they’re going to have to pay handsomely for the privilege of making him someone else’s problem.

Is that something that we’re supposed to celebrate?