Stephen Curry, the two-time NBA MVP and three-time champion with the Golden State Warriors, was known for his incredible skills on the basketball court. However, one afternoon, he would showcase a different side of himself—one that would resonate far beyond the hardwood.
It was a rare day off for Steph, who had just wrapped up a rigorous practice session. Seeking a moment of normalcy, he decided to take a stroll through a neighborhood not far from his home. While the world knew him as a basketball icon, his humility often led him to enjoy simple, everyday activities, like walking through the streets and connecting with the community.
As he rounded the corner of a local café, Steph noticed a small commotion ahead. At first, it seemed like the usual hustle and bustle of a busy street, but then he spotted an elderly woman clutching her handbag, her frame trembling as she stood frozen on the sidewalk. A large, intimidating man was yelling loudly, his aggressive stance sending a ripple of unease through the crowd.
Steph’s heart raced as he observed the scene. The elderly woman had fallen to the ground, looking up at the man in disbelief, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. People around them seemed paralyzed by fear, some reaching for their phones to record the incident while others simply watched in silence. The man continued to yell, oblivious to the growing crowd, and it was clear that no one was willing to step in.
Feeling the tension thick in the air, Steph knew he had to act. He had faced countless high-pressure situations on the court, but this felt different. The instinct to protect was stronger than ever. Without rushing in recklessly, he paused to assess the situation. The man was clearly bigger and potentially dangerous, but Steph had spent years building mental toughness and composure, both on and off the court.
With a calm yet determined demeanor, Steph approached the man. His 6’2″ frame commanded attention, but he didn’t want to provoke outright hostility. The man noticed Steph’s approach and sneered, perhaps thinking he had intimidated yet another bystander. But Steph wasn’t just anyone; he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knew his strengths but didn’t need to flaunt them.
“Listen, man,” Steph said, his voice steady but firm. “This doesn’t need to go any further.” The man, fueled by anger or perhaps embarrassment at being challenged, lunged forward, swinging his fist toward Steph in a wild arc.
What happened next was nothing short of remarkable. Steph moved with the same agility he displayed on the court, sidestepping the punch and causing the man to stumble slightly. The crowd gasped, their tension mounting, but Steph didn’t retaliate. Instead, he used the moment to create more space between himself and the man, motioning for the elderly woman to move farther away.
The man, frustrated and angry, charged at Steph again. This time, Steph braced himself, using his arms to deflect the impact while planting his feet firmly on the ground. The man’s momentum worked against him, sending him off balance and tumbling to the pavement. The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and exclamations, the tables having turned completely.
Instead of taunting the man or walking away triumphantly, Steph extended a hand. “Get up,” he said simply. The man hesitated, confusion showing on his face, but before he could respond, the sound of sirens filled the air. Someone in the crowd had called the police, and their arrival was imminent.
Turning to the elderly woman, who was now being comforted by a bystander, Steph assured her, “You’re safe now.” Her eyes welled with tears as she nodded, clearly overwhelmed by the turn of events. As the police arrived, the man seemed to deflate entirely, his bravado gone. Officers quickly assessed the situation, taking statements from witnesses while the man was detained.
For Steph, the moment wasn’t about enjoying a victory; it was about something much deeper. He wasn’t satisfied with simply calming the moment; he wanted to ensure the woman was truly cared for and that the crowd left with something more meaningful than just a dramatic story to share.
As the officers approached him to gather his statement, Steph turned his attention back to the elderly woman. She was visibly shaken, clutching her arm where she had fallen, and a small cut on her cheek hinted at the force of the attack. A paramedic was tending to her, but it was clear she needed more than medical care—she needed reassurance.
“Ma’am, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice calm and full of concern. She nodded faintly but then reached out to grab his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. The moment was intimate, and the crowd around them fell silent, understanding its weight.
For Steph, this wasn’t just about being a hero; it was about doing what was right—something
Steph Curry’s 50-point masterpiece started well before Game 7, with a speech and a promise to his Warriors
SACRAMENTO — Stephen Curry’s epic Game 7 performance — in which his 50 points set a record for a win-or-go-home game — actually began Saturday morning. Well before the Warriors’ 120-100 win over the Kings.
He was so angry after their Game 6 loss on Friday night, when they squandered a chance to clinch with a spirit-less loss at Chase Center. He was so disgusted by how they played, so disappointed in the division they allowed to seep in. Curry couldn’t sleep.
When he gave up trying and got up, before the sun had even risen, he checked his phone and saw a text at 3:45 a.m. Turns out Draymond Green couldn’t sleep either.
They exchanged messages about their embarrassment, how Kings guard Malik Monk called them old, about the fractured focus they’ve witnessed in their huddle. Green was prepared to speak to the team, to try galvanizing the bunch. But Curry was fed up enough to tell Green, “let me take this one.” That was all Green needed to hear.
Before the start of Saturday’s film session, Curry stood before the group. In the glass-walled atrium on the ninth floor of Chase Center, a space known as “Above the Rim” that overlooks the Bay, he had their undivided attention.
“I don’t even talk a lot,” Curry said to the team, “but I’ve got something to say.”
His speeches are scarce. His pep talks are mostly one-on-one. Teammates consider it rare, but when he does speak, everyone listens explicitly.
This speech, though, would become part of his legend. The prelude to perfection.
Even though he’s one of the guys, Curry still has an aura in the Warriors locker room. They see his humility, his jovial nature and approachability. But they know who he is, who they get to play with. His respect is unimpeachable. They recognize a legend in their midst.
“He is that guy,” Gary Payton II said at his locker after the game. “So when he speaks, everybody better listen. Because 30 is usually quiet and lets his game speak for itself. But he had to say what he had to say, because he knew what type of vibe it was … and I don’t think he wanted to give this one up. So he led and we followed.”
The reason they listen was on display at the Golden 1 Center on Sunday. In 38 minutes, Curry snatched hope from the Kings. In 38 shots, Curry reminded the world of his greatness.
And when he was done, he was telling the raucous Kings fans they weren’t ready for the wrath of a legend. He dropped 50 and then was looking for 50 Cent to light the beam. But on this afternoon, it wouldn’t be a purple laser piercing the sky. Instead a blue and gold goat signal.
Curry averaged 31 points on 22.3 shots over the first six games of the series. The Warriors had outscored the Kings by 33 points in his minutes heading into Game 7. Sunday, he had 27 shots through three quarters. By the time he checked out for good with 2:39 remaining, he was plus-25. The same Kings who looked so close to knocking off the defending champions suddenly looked so far from the level the Warriors reached.
“At this point, he’s reminding people for no reason,” Jordan Poole said, “He’s got the same edge as any of the other greats. Mamba Mentality, all of that s—. Steph got that s—. That’s what makes him so special. Maybe his approach is a bit different than the other guys, but we know he’s a killer. Everybody in the world knows he’s a killer.”
But the Warriors didn’t win solely because of Curry’s 50. They won because, unlike in Game 6 at Chase Center, they were locked in for the biggest game of the season to date. Their team defense kept Sacramento to 42 second-half points. They were united as they took on the emboldened, youthful Kings, took on the frenzied crowd, took on the pressure of keeping their dynasty alive.
And they were together because Curry made sure of it. With what a few of his teammates called the greatest speech of his career.
“It gave me chills,” Andrew Wiggins said. “No. 30, he’s different, man.”
According to multiple sources in the private session, Curry told the team he believed in them, that they had enough to win. He asked for their trust in return. He assured them he could deliver victory if they all bought in. He implored them to put all of their feelings aside — which sources with knowledge of the locker room felt was messaging directed at Poole, Jonathan Kuminga and other guys who might’ve been unhappy for reasons such as playing time and role — and lock in to the unified mission. Anyone who wanted to remain in their emotions, he told them to stay home. Anyone who was ready for their vacation, he told them not to get on the bus for Sacramento. But anyone who did get on the bus, Curry took that as a signature of approval, a binding agreement to be on board with the mission. And if they did that, if they got on the bus, he promised he’d deliver. With his game, his faith, their solidarity, they’d win.
Because of who he is, and how rarely he does this, it hit home in a way only Curry could pull off. He saved the Warriors’ season before Game 7 even began.
“You’re in this space where you gon’ fold or you gon’ rise up,” Green said, his voice raising with excitement as he relived the speech. “Once he did that, you have no choice but to rise up. He f—ing got everybody locked in. ‘If you’re getting on this bus, you’re making a commitment to this team. No matter if you play zero minutes or 40 minutes. You’re making a commitment to do whatever it takes. Prepare your mind and body for this opportunity we have. We got embarrassed the other night and we never f—ing going out like that.’”
Kevon Looney — who had his own career night, grabbing 20 or more rebounds for the third time this series — said he knew it was over when Curry, early in the game, waved off a screen. He wanted to go iso. That usually means his aggression is at max levels, that he sees a weakness and wants to attack it.
He had 20 points by halftime. He went at Terence Davis, who replaced Davion Mitchell on Curry as the Kings sought more space and shooting. And when it wasn’t Davis, Curry was luring Keegan Murray onto him. But, very much on brand, it was the third quarter where Curry put his foot on the gas. He scored 14 points on 5-for-12 shooting in the quarter, leading the way as turning a small Kings halftime lead into a 10-point Warriors advantage.
Suddenly, it was the Kings who looked nervous, who felt the pressure of the moment. They started looking like so many have during this championship era, when the weight of the Warriors finally crushes them. The Chris Paul Clippers. The James Harden Rockets. The Damian Lillard Blazers. The Kevin Durant Thunder. The LeBron James Cavaliers. The Ja Morant Grizzlies. The Jayson Tatum Celtics. And now the De’Aaron Fox Kings.
The Warriors weren’t playing lights out. Wiggins, whose 17 points was the next highest for the Warriors, missed enough layups and free throws to leave him frustrated. Klay Thompson was 4-for-19. The Warriors got just 18 points from their bench and made fewer than a third of their 3-pointers again. That doesn’t count a season full of drama they’d been lugging around like baggage. The fissures that were ready to rip open. The tired legs and wanting size.
What the Warriors did have, however, was Curry and a newfound togetherness. They had a promise from one of the all-time greats and a bus loaded with commitment.
When Curry finished his appeal to the team, he opened the floor for anyone else who had something to add. He started the seminal moment but was willing to share with a teammate.
But there was no need. After Curry speaks, no more words are necessary.
“Enough said champ!” Green yelled in response to Curry. “Nobody got nothing! That’s it. What else can be said?”
The only talking left to do was on the court.
