We owe Ayesha Curry big-time

We have this all wrong, people, this incessant takedown of a well-meaning wife who just happens to be married to the NBA’s back-to-back MVP and made a social-media faux pas in the heat of the moment.

After her noble husband Steph Curry was ejected from Game 6 for breathing on another player, Ayesha Curry went all Tammy Wynette, tweeting, “I’ve lost all respect sorry this is absolutely rigged for money … Or ratings in [sic] not sure which. I won’t be silent. Just saw it live sry.”

The predictable clap back followed, with critics sarcastically wondering exactly how the game was fixed against the defending champion Golden State Warriors and their two-time MVP. Some of my more misguided friends mansplained, saying everything but, “Girl, know your place and sit the hell down!”

This is not only wrong and misogynist, but horribly shortsighted.

Indeed, it’s high time everyone gave it up for Ayesha Curry. She took one for the team. She put herself out there for a vanilla roster of winners and swell guys, who keep saying this is the closest team they’ve ever been on. It’s enough to make you want to introduce one of them to a Kardashian. Or force them to reacquire Latrell Sprewell. Create some kind of friction or disharmony, damn it.

Maybe someone could write “Please” on one of Klay Thompson’s sneakers and “Trade Me” on the other. Anything to create the instability and dysfunction that has characterized most uber-good NBA teams of this era.

The Chicago Bulls invented drama in the course of winning six championships. Michael Jordan once punched Steve Kerr in the face when they were teammates. Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant turned a 94-foot floor in Los Angeles into a preschool sandbox. LeBron James colluded with other All-Stars to build a team of supernovas in Miami, thereby alienating most of the known universe.

Great teams have sustained success when their toughest rivals become themselves. The only team to break that mold consistently in the past 20 years is the San Antonio Spurs, and that’s because they believe in weird practice rituals such as self-auditing, personal accountability and the choreography of teamwork — signs that prove Gregg Popovich and Tim Duncan are, in reality, leaders of a cult.

Who recalls the New Jersey Nets going to the Finals twice this millennium? Nobody, not even the guys on that team. But when Kim Kardashian married and dumped one of their role players on E!, now that was an NBA squad worth talking about. Like Ayesha Curry, Kris Humphries took one for the team.

If someone can’t drive a wedge between the Dubs, how are they going to become a truly modern dynasty?

The Warriors already don’t fit in this new-media, hashtag world. We need drama, petulance — preferably a love triangle among All-Stars. (Look what Toni Braxton did to the Dallas Mavericks when she may or may not have simultaneously won the affection of Jason Kidd and Jimmy Jackson.)

We’d even settle for an arrogant, aloof coach who talks down to us. Instead, we get Kerr, who gets fined once a millennium and treats everybody with respect.

These days it’s not enough to be a loosey-goosey team that runs most everyone off the floor and radiates warmth and humanity while raining jumpers from the parking lot. Steve Nash’s Phoenix Suns already tried that.

Enter Ayesha, who did something bold. Without her Twitter meltdown in Cleveland Thursday night, the only controversial thing going for Golden State was Draymond Green performing free vasectomies on opposing players.

This is exactly what the Warriors need to bond and hunker down: distraction, criticism, snarkiness, headlines for things other than beautiful basketball. Ayesha’s keypad courage is just the beginning of a 10-point marketing plan to increase web traffic and get some much-needed TMZ love.

Next:

— Andrew Bogut writes a wacky tell-all and shows up for his book signing in a wedding dress.

— Calm, cool Marreese Speights ignites a brawl in Sacramento, a Mo-Buckets melee that carries into the stands, to be known later as “Insane in the Sleep Train.”

— Taking a page out of his mentor Phil Jackson’s book, Kerr writes his own manuscript and reveals that he never thought Steph was coachable and that he shoots too much from half court.

Now that Ayesha has had the fortitude to break down the wall of monotony, it’s all there for the taking.

Team Turmoil, here they come.