“Horses for courses.”

It’s a race track parlance that has been used for years when trying to evaluate where a thoroughbred is most comfortable. It means that there are just some horses who run on one track like the second coming of Secretariat; and then take their talents to another track and run like they’re just a step ahead of the glue factory.

By the time you read this yarn, the NBA draft will be over and every team will be trotting out its shiny new prospects with a promise of a new beginning. Come next June, twenty-nine of them will have been wrong.

The draft is an inexact science. Particularly so in the NBA where you’re comparing someone who six months earlier might have been attending a prom, to someone who has five Lamborghinis in his garage and has been chasing Steph Curry around the floor for the past decade.

Everybody who got selected in the NBA draft this week can play basketball. I’d go as far as saying they can play it better than 99.8 percent of every other kid who’s out there bouncing the ball in his driveway. The problem is being able to play basketball really well by no means is an indicator that a kid can compete in the NBA.

I’ve broadcast literally thousands of college basketball games over the years and I’ve seen countless players who I had pegged as the next great NBA star working in a sporting goods store five years later.

The simple fact is this: At the NBA level a player can have no flaws in his game. All left hand? You’re done. Lazy jump shot release? See ya. Don’t understand the passing lanes? Thanks for stopping by. Won’t or can’t play defense? The Beer Leagues want you. Soft? Can’t create a shot? Don’t have a quick first step? Can’t or won’t screen? Take your 20 points a game and go play in the Philippines.

In the just-completed NBA draft, roughly 15 of the first 20 selections were college freshmen. Mind you, I’m not saying they can’t play. Every one of them has been All-Pro since the third grade. What I am saying is that playing in college and playing in the NBA is the difference between a podiatrist and a brain surgeon. I know they’re both doctors, but given a choice I’d rather have the guy working on my head be someone who knows more about the cerebral core than he does bunions.

And this is where, I believe, the philosophies of Steve Kerr, Mike Dunleavy and Joe Lacob might differ a bit from those of most of their NBA peers. There always seems to be a horse for their course.

The Warriors value IQ. And not just on-the-court IQ. It is also where the circuitous road of one Jonathan Kuminga either turns or ends.

Kuminga is a superb athlete who defines the “horses for courses” metaphor. I believe he will be amongst the bigger scorers in this league at some point. What I don’t think is that it’ll be with the Golden State Warriors.

In the Steve Kerr playbook, scorers are great — of course, you’ve got to have ’em. Preferably many of them. But the addendum to that in the mind of the head coach, is that you better be able to do other things that might not appear on the stats sheet. And that’s where the road crosses for Kuminga.

Just look at what this team is composed of. Steph Curry? A given. Anybody who thinks for even a second that Curry is just a “scorer” truly either hasn’t been watching or believes the ball is stuffed.

Draymond Green knows and understands passing lanes, rebounding position, motion — and defense and his numbers don’t come close to telling you his importance.

Like Green, Trayce-Jackson Davis was a four-year college player whose numbers didn’t jump off the page, but he does the small things.

Kevon Looney is another innate rebounder whom the W’s might be forced to give up.

It’s acknowledged that Jimmy Butler’s court IQ is off the charts. He’s also smart enough to have invested in so many ventures that he’s as comfortable in the boardroom as he is on the boards.

Gary Payton II is a specialist. He’s a defender. He’s a disrupter. He knows things that you just can’t learn playing AAU ball and scoring at will in college.

Buddy Hield is a specialist, too. Spot up and shoot. Oh, and space the floor.

Moses Moody and Brandin Podziemski are both multi-purpose players who understand the game they’re playing. Yes, both were a bit overwhelmed (and a bit hurt as well) during these playoffs. But both are Kerr kind of guys.

Gui Santos and Pat Spencer are blue collar guys who play beyond their God-given ability. They’re not easy to find.

Many of the players who make up the core of this team are guys that other teams (and other philosophies) would pass on because they’re not “scorers.”

Kuminga is the wild card. If I could get a mobile big man who can rim-protect and step out and shoot, Jonathan Kuminga would be on the next bus to wherever. I’d even get him a first-class seat.

I do think that’s a must for this team. I thought so last year, too. Oklahoma City showed that, while playoff experience is nice to have, it isn’t required to win a championship. If it was, the W’s would be a shoo-in.

Free agency could provide some help in the “mobile big” search, but wouldn’t it be nice if you could find someone willing to swap a young talented athletic big man (who seem to be on every roster except this one) for a guy who might one day might be capable of leading the league in scoring? Horses for courses.

I know Joe Lacob — who owns the candy store — is a staunch supporter of Jonathan Kuminga, but I also feel as though he runs this team as a democracy. And if he does, I’m also pretty sure that Mike Dunleavy and Steve Kerr are in his ear saying, “Let Jonathan Kuminga go.

…..and bring us back an athletic big guy.”

Barry Tompkins is a 40-year network television sportscaster and a San Francisco native. Email him at barrytompkins1@gmail.com.