The new coach gets two years, maybe three, before a fair conclusion can be reached.

The new general manager might get three years, maybe four.

The new owner of a sports team can needs only enough time to whisper sweet words to the bank accounts of paying customers.

Especially in today's Bay Area, where no owner can lay claim to being historically successful, broadly likable, highly visible and, above all, a recipient of a championship trophy presented in the last quarter century.

Joe Lacob, then, arrives as the ice-cream man on a summer day. He's the good Samaritan pulling up behind your stalled car. He's a savior for Warriors fans, humble and hungry folks whose need for rescue is far greater than they know.

The new Warriors owner has worked and paid his way into a favorable position insofar as he instantly is an object of affection, largely because his predecessor was rarely seen, widely disliked and a chronic underperformer in the ways most relevant to a fan base.

So Lacob and co-savior Peter Guber introduced themselves Monday with a gesture that can be appreciated by the bank accounts of local hoops fans, having announced over the weekend that all remaining tickets for Monday night's Warriors-Pistons game, as well as all concessions, would be slashed to half off.

It was a feel-good move, mostly symbolic yet highly effective toward ingratiating the new owners with fans they know to be as loyal as they are serially abused.

Now comes the hard part, the real work of reshaping the tattered images and harsh realities long associated with one of the most defective products in professional sports.

And as Michael Buble's "Feeling Good" wafted through the sound system of a waterfront restaurant (in San Francisco, no less), Lacob cleared his throat and started raising expectations.

He kept raising them until they reached the level of, gasp, the Lakers and the Celtics.

"There is no reason in the world that we can't be as successful as those teams," he said during an afternoon news conference, his first as official Warriors owner. "There's just no reason we can't turn this into a championship franchise."

The words came comfortably and easily, as if Lacob really believes them. He reiterated them six hours later, while standing on the Oracle Arena court and addressing the crowd between the first and second quarter of the game.

"Look up there," Lacob said, pointing to the team's lone world championship banner, won in 1975. "That's a very lonely flag.

"We want another one."

The crowd, which greeted the new owner with a partial standing ovation, roared its approval. Warriors fans are delighted to get past the Chris Cohan era, during which the roster was rebuilt 634 times, coaches were changed like socks and the team missed the playoffs in 15 of 16 seasons.

Having made 18,000 new friends, Lacob and Guber shook hands, retreated to their courtside seats and moved comfortably into the select fraternity of those who have owned Bay Area sports teams.

Insofar as most of our local owners have spent recent years with little or no profile, and even less success, the landscape is Lacob's to own.

We have had several iconic owners, all of them viewed through a dust-covered prism. There was controversial former A's owner the late Charles O. Finley, the only local boss with three consecutive world championships. There was Raiders boss Al Davis, the first, who owned the 1960s and '70s. And, of course, 49ers boss Eddie DeBartolo, who owned the '80s and much of the '90s.

And, no, we didn't forget the late Walter Haas, who rescued the A's from Finley and restored dignity, professionalism and three straight trips (1988-90) to the World Series. He was a wonderful owner too merrily low profile to be truly iconic.

We now have Bill Neukom, whose short resume -- two years running the Giants -- is gilded with a championship. We have Jed York, whose short resume with the 49ers is, well, a short resume. We have Davis, the second time around, still running the Raiders but a pale impersonation of his former self.

We have a Sharks ownership that gets it but remains too broad to define and an A's ownership defined by four consecutive losing seasons and Lew Wolff's obsession with getting out of Oakland.

Lacob can create his own image. He can stay in Oakland, win and have it all. He can go to San Francisco -- he wouldn't rule out moving in seven years -- win and perhaps have even more.

With discount promotions, bold talk and the advantage of not being Chris Cohan, he's off to a good start.

Contact Monte Poole at mpoole@bayareanewsgroup.com