No man is an island, though MVPs are celebrated as though they can do everything alone. That's the tension in a team sport that markets individuals as superheroes.

Stephen Curry's extended MVP acceptance speech in Oakland was a reminder that Curry's success hasn't happened in a vacuum. The team's structure improved enough to unleash his talent, and his steadying presence allowed the team to flourish. Everything is connected. Athletes aren't just walking representations of statistical outcomes.

There were "You the real MVP" moments, emotional thank yous to family -- Curry held back tears when crediting his wife Ayesha but ultimately cracked when praising his father Dell -- and what followed was a movie-length, detailed catalogue of an organization that's steadily grown around and with Stephen Curry.

The front office got some love. So did the head of security, the equipment manager and even the PR staff. Former Warriors coach Mark Jackson's name was notably absent from the news conference, however.

"We play for a first-class organization," Curry said, "and you have to appreciate that. I love coming to work every day."

Just a couple years ago, the notion of the Warriors as a "first-class organization" was laughable. So, too, was the notion that Stephen Curry could win an MVP award.

"I've enjoyed this year more than any other," Curry said, praising his rookie coach Steve Kerr. "I think you're a huge reason why we are here today, so thank you very much for being you and putting together this great staff that's sitting over here."

It's no accident Curry mentioned the coaching staff as a whole because Kerr and the Warriors built a deep one. Alvin Gentry might be the best offensive assistant. Ron Adams might be the best defensive assistant. Beyond that, the two older sages are flanked by well-regarded younger coaching prospects like Luke Walton, Jarron Collins and Nick U'ren. The Warriors' quality staff perhaps diminished Kerr's Coach of the Year prospects, rightly or wrongly. In an effort to divvy up credit, it is easy to turn the strength of a team into an indictment of the individual.

That theme was repeated during the months of MVP debates: Curry shouldn't win MVP because his team is stacked. Curry shouldn't win MVP because he has an All-Star ally in Klay Thompson. There's something to that argument, but it elides how a player is supposed to help a team become great. In theory, the goal isn't to look fantastic compared to your help. The goal is to help your help become better. This, perhaps, is most especially true of a point guard, the chief distributor.

Curry lauded Thompson, expressing hope that they would become one of the best backcourts ever: "We should challenge each other every day in that regard and make it happen." Curry's influence can be seen in Thompson's game -- specifically, sidestepping into a 3 off pump fakes, and slowing down in transition before blasting past defenders -- and that's to say nothing of Curry's impact as a generally supportive teammate, an opinion that is either universal on this roster or brilliantly faked.

There's no way to quantify Curry's influence on Thompson, just as there's no exact way to know Curry's exact general impact on this organization. Kerr has compared Curry's selfless professionalism to what he experienced with Steve Nash in Phoenix and Tim Duncan in San Antonio. That's an anecdotal benchmark, but it will never be tangible.

And it's easy to scoff at the intangible when the premise is that a team improved because its star was a good guy. Part of the problem is Curry embodies clichés that were long ago debunked. Fans know better than to buy that victory indicates virtue. Plenty of jerks have won titles, and plenty more have snookered the public into thinking they were someone they are not. It's difficult to talk about it without seeming duped.

Draymond Green is adamant Curry is the real deal.

"It's no front!" Green said about Curry's manner. The voluble Warriors power forward calls his point guard "one of the best human beings I've ever met in my life."

This is oft-repeated in the Warriors organization. Green recalled that people from his hometown would ask if Curry was really a nice guy, probing for dirt on Mr. Perfect.

"Picture the model citizen that does everything right," Green would say, "and that's Steph."

Maybe that model behavior doesn't matter, and all that creates wins for the Warriors are Curry's pull-up 3s and incisive passes. At the same time, it's easier to build an organization around a guy who gets along well with others.

Maybe this era makes that increasingly the case, as the league is less focused on isolation scoring and more dependent on teamwork and ball movement. The game is more connected now.

Curry has persevered through several bad iterations of the Warriors, and now remains as the rock of a great team that shares the ball about as well as it gets along.

Perhaps 67 wins only happened because Klay Thompson finally grew into his game. Maybe it was about David Lee giving way to Draymond Green in the starting lineup. Hey, that's a coaching decision -- so maybe Kerr's the guy who did everything. Or praise GM Bob Myers for hiring Kerr and adding great pieces. While we're at it, the training staff never gets love.

But the truth is, it was a confluence of good things that created a special season. It all came together because the Warriors made it possible for Curry and because Curry made it possible for the Warriors. Golden State as a franchise fired on all cylinders because many people bought into a larger mission.

This can be a fragile kind of bliss in an NBA world replete with ego and political infighting. It likely won't sustain for over a decade like the experiment in San Antonio. But, for one season at least, Curry elevated his game to an incredible level, and his team was emphatically greater than the sum of its parts. Stephen Curry deserves credit. The Warriors deserve credit.