As such, they were not particularly distinctive in their time. The Knicks, Celtics and Lakers, among others, ran textbook offenses during the 1970s with plenty of great athletes. What separated the Warriors from all other teams, in any era, was their depth. Scan the list of NBA champions over the years, and you won't find a team that routinely used 11 players, each of whom could pass for a starter.

Just when teams became exhausted trying to keep up with Charles Johnson, Phil Smith, Jeff Mullins and Butch Beard in an ever-fresh backcourt procession, here came Charles Dudley as a difference-maker. Clifford Ray and George Johnson split time with equal effectiveness at center. When Rick Barry or Keith Wilkes needed a rest, coach Al Attles could turn to a storied power forward Bill Bridges or a deadly medium-range shooter Derrek Dickey.

"I think Al realized there wasn't much difference in the quality on our roster after Keith and me," Barry said last week. "It was truly a team in every sense of the word. Top to bottom, there's never been a team quite like it."

I spent a good part of the week watching CBS telecasts of the Chicago series Game 7 of the Western Conference finals and the Finals a four-game sweep of the Washington Bullets, a pleasant step backward in time. Players really did wear "shorts" in those days, down to about mid-thigh. There was no three-point line, creating more honest and creative offensive strategy. Fans in the crowd and Attles, as well were decked out in garish-colored outfits with 8-inch collars. Only an occasional organ riff interrupted the pure sounds of the game during play. Only three non-players manned the Golden State bench: Attles, an assistant Joe Roberts and a trainer Dick D'Oliva. And as the camera panned the sideline, there was the great Bill King, with his massive handlebar mustache, calling the action on radio.

Down 3-2 to the Bulls of Jerry Sloan, Norm Van Lier, Chet Walker and Bob "Butterbean" Love, the Warriors boarded a plane bound for Chicago - and certain elimination. The Bulls had a tremendous home-court advantage in that glorious old barn known as Chicago Stadium, and as Doc Rivers a Chicago native recalled, "There was a fear factor with Sloan and Van Lier. They not only beat you with their athletic ability, they beat a lot of opponents mentally. I mean, you'd look in Sloan's eyes and you did not want to be there."

If people were writing off the Warriors , it was nothing new. "First game of the season, we really got hammered," Attles recalled, "and there was a story in the paper saying the Warriors should just call off the season. That's how bad we were. The saving grace was that we never bought into that. It was almost like 'us against the world.' We came together as a team, on and off the court."

The Warriors won that game in Chicago, then came back to the Oakland-Alameda Coliseum Arena for Game 7. At one point in the first half, they trailed by 14 points, and Barry started out 2-for-14 from the floor. That's when Wilkes and Smith - both rookies, each born for big games - took over, making it clear that the Warriors had executed one of the smartest, forward-thinking drafts in league history.

Barry finally got hot in the fourth quarter, and with 41 seconds left, he clinched the victory with a signature move: going up for the jumper, looking for all the world like he was going to shoot, then firing a pass inside. George Johnson laid it in for a six-point lead, and the Warriors were on their way to the Finals.

"I knew there was something special about this team in training camp," Barry recalled. "But I didn't know we were good enough to win it all. I came to that realization late in the season, when I saw how we responded to being tested. When we came back to beat Chicago, I knew we'd win."

So many things stood out during that sweep of the Bullets: Charles Johnson's astounding quickness and leaping ability; the cool leadership from Mullins and Beard; Wilkes simply outplaying the esteemed Elvin Hayes; Ray's superb command of offensive sets; Smith's thunderous left-handed dunk over Hayes in Game 3; the fact that two African American coaches Attles and K.C. Jones were contesting a major U.S. championship for the first time; home games being played at the Cow Palace an ice show had been booked at the Coliseum Arena, and more than anything else, the pure virtuosity of Barry's game.

This man truly had it all: running hook shots with either hand, underhand scoops with the same motion as his free throws in full flight, unrivaled quickness on the catch-and-shoot, passing ability in a class with Larry Bird's among forwards, very tough defense in pressure situations and a classic jump shot that ranks with Jerry West, Dave Bing, Pete Maravich, Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant for pure, unstoppable form.

The Bullets' frustration came to a head in Game 4, when Mike Riordan was sent onto the floor to rough up Barry, perhaps start a fight, and get Barry tossed out of the game. As it turned out, Attles got ejected for coming to Barry's defense, a classic confrontation for which Attles should have no regret whatsoever. The Warriors played, fought and were victorious as a team. To this day, they have a singular place in the game's history.

Catch up with ... A look at what the 1974-75 Warriors are doing now. D8