Good morning class. I wanted to talk to you today about culture.

Not that I profess to have any, mind you. The only culture in my house growing up was that in yogurt. But over the years I’ve somehow managed to learn how to sip tea, not nod off at the symphony, and not eat pasta with my hands.

The culture I wanted to chat with you about today is of a different sort. It’s locker room culture. And it’s a lot harder to master than sticking out your pinkie while swilling a cup of tea.

Locker room culture is amorphous. It’s like trying to wrap your arms around a bag full of doorknobs. It’s a very tangible thing that is entirely made up of intangibles.

Here in the Bay Area we are lucky enough to have a living, breathing example of a thriving locker room culture. The Golden State Warriors have managed to wrestle all those unknowns to the ground and create a “We’re all in this together” mantra they call “Just Us”.

Of course, winning helps create a good culture. But the Dubs have managed to maintain that culture in seasons when they weren’t lofting championship trophies. Here again, in their case it’s explained in four words: Kerr, Curry and Green.

I’ve known Steve Kerr since he was a high school senior. Beyond a few gray hairs and assorted wrinkles, he’s the same guy now he was then. What he was — and is — is a guy who makes everybody better even though he might not have been the best player on the floor.

Draymond Green was an undersized “big man” who played four years at Michigan State under one of the most demanding coaches in college basketball. He wasn’t the best player. But he made everybody better.

Steph Curry has no right being probably the best shooter in the history of the game. But, he is. And even though he is the best player on the floor, he still makes everybody else better.

The common thread here is that they demand of everyone around them what they demand of themselves— be the best version of who you are. And, no shortcuts.

It isn’t a secret that players who come to the Warriors are better than they have been anywhere else in the past. Those three guys wouldn’t have it any other way.

Which brings me to Jimmy Butler.

His pre-Warrior rep was that of a malcontent. Gifted, but not worth the trouble. I have no doubt that Curry and Green went to Steve Kerr and suggested it wouldn’t be a problem here. The deal was done and I really believe Butler has bought into the mantra. The door may revolve, but it’s still “Just Us.”

I really think the 49ers have a locker room edge too. In their case it’s Fred Warner and Trent Williams. Two guys who do more than they need to do to make themselves the players that they are. And, they demand that of every kid who walks in the door.

They’re also approachable. A good locker room culture starts with super stars who aren’t super-egos. It’s contagious.

Dave Roberts, the manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers and (forgive me Giants fans) one of the truly good guys in the game, says that his team performs well year in and year out because incoming players are made to feel comfortable by the veterans.

“Accountability stems from the most tenured guys,” says Roberts. “New kids play well because they are welcomed. And, they’re welcomed because they play well.”

I mentioned last week after spending time with the Giants in Scottsdale, that there are definitive signs of this team scratching and clawing its way toward a clubhouse with all the intangibles.

During the throughly forgettable Farhan Zaidi years, players were merely names on a scorecard. The intangible things like clubhouse culture didn’t exist in the world of Sabermetrics. The clubhouse door was revolving. Your locker neighbor one day is back on a bus to Sacramento the next. Players got whiplash from looking back over their shoulder wondering if they were next.

Some players who were there mainly to collect a paycheck imparted a lot of information about how to win a card game, but very little about how to prepare for a baseball game. Young players learned bad habits that hampered their growth.

Enter Buster Posey, who clearly is of the Kerr-Curry-Green school. I’m not going to be pie-in-the-sky and tell you that this version of the San Francisco Giants is going to the World Series — or even the playoffs. But, what I can tell you is that the riff-raff is gone.

Watching this team interact with the likes of Justin Verlander, Willy Adames and Matt Chapman in Scottsdale this past week tells me that it isn’t only championship teams that have chemistry, it’s teams with hopes of being champions too.

Those three guys are grownups on a team laden with kids who are still learning. One feeds the other. The difference is palpable. The clubhouse has energy, the manager has had a yoke removed from his shoulders, and the new GM is the first to recognize there is a living, breathing, person beneath that numbered jersey.

It actually feels to an observer that there is a little fun to be had in the Giants’ clubhouse this year, that there is a common pulling on the same rope, that the bus to Sacramento might not be quite as crowded this year.

And who knows? Maybe down the road a couple of years Steve Kerr, Steph Curry and Draymond Green might look at the Giants and say to each other, “Just Them.”