This story first appeared in SLAM 236.
It was back in March 2009 when Stephen Curry’s name first ran through the pages of Issue 125. A short piece by Bonsu Thompson reported on a fresh-faced kid out of Davidson. Curry was noted for his “well-honed” basketball skills, as well as his cool, calm demeanor. He appeared skinny and short. He looked forgettable, not dominant. If not for Bonsu’s credibility and reputation for writing about legit ballers, I wouldn’t have paid any attention to Dell Curry’s son.
I fell in love with basketball while playing NBA Jam. The game dominated arcades in the early ’90s and its winning strategy reinforced a concept reflected in the League that big, strong players owned the sport. We wanted athletic dunkers and shot blockers, post-up killers who would occupy the paint. Small players were just the facilitators and sharp-shooters might be helpful in the clutch. Occasionally.
In hindsight, I’d underestimated Stephen Curry. By the time he calmly took a seat on the cover of SLAM 173, “The Can’t Miss Kid” had not only established himself as one of the League’s premier three-point shooters, he was also shifting the way the game was played. Kids were no longer being scolded by coaches for ambitious dunk attempts; instead, they were being benched for pulling up from the logo in the second quarter. Why? Because Chef Curry was cooking up half-court buckets on a nightly basis. He made it look easy. His combination of exquisite ballhandling, lightning-fast release and unparalleled accuracy meant that he was a deadly scoring threat as soon as he reached 40 feet from the nylon. Teams were switching up their whole strategy. This was cheat code basketball. This was, and is, history being carved out right before our very eyes.
Nine SLAM covers and 3 titles later, and the journey isn’t over. I watched Stephen light up MSG in December, surpassing the sharp-shooting legacies of Reggie and Ray, who graciously (even joyfully) crowned him as the greatest shooter ever. This short pause had me reflecting in admiration, but also considering what lies ahead. He’s still cash from the logo. He still has the rock on a string. He’s still as calm as they come. This isn’t NBA Jam anymore, even so, as the SLAM 173 spine-line pointed out, he’s (still) on fire.
