On a cold winter night in Charlotte, I was just a skinny 10-year-old boy—more bones than muscle, the son of NBA sharpshooter Dell Curry—sitting courtside with wide eyes and a pounding heart. My sneakers barely touched the floor as I watched a 7-foot-1 giant unleash pure dominance on the hardwood, a display so awe-inspiring, it felt like a scene out of a superhero movie.

That giant was Shaquille O’Neal.

He didn’t just play basketball. He redefined it. The way he moved across the court—an enormous body with the fluidity of a dancer and the power of a locomotive—was like nothing I had ever seen. That night, when Shaq rose up and threw down a dunk with such force the entire basket system seemed to tremble, something inside me changed.

That moment became more than just a childhood memory—it became a turning point. I didn’t know it then, but I was witnessing the birth of my own dream.

A Childhood Etched in Giants

That image of Shaq, rim-rattling dunks, earth-shaking presence, and that unforgettable smile etched itself into my memory like a permanent tattoo. For me, basketball had always been a family affair—my dad Dell Curry was a steady hand in the NBA, a role model with a silky jumper and a humble demeanor. But watching Shaq? That was something else entirely. It was mythic.

At 10 years old, I didn’t know about NBA stats or legacy. I just knew what I felt. And what I felt was awe.

Shaq was more than just big—he was everywhere. His aura filled the arena. You didn’t just see him; you felt him. Every fan, every ballboy, every player turned toward him like he had his own gravitational pull.

The Man Behind the Monster

As I got older, I learned more about Shaq’s backstory—and that’s when my admiration deepened into something even more profound.

Shaquille O’Neal wasn’t born into comfort or fame. He grew up in a military household, moving from base to base, school to school, always the new kid, always the biggest one in the room. His stepfather, Sergeant Philip Harrison, raised him with an iron sense of discipline. And his mother, Lucille O’Neal, provided the bedrock of emotional support that kept him grounded through all the change.

Can you imagine being a kid that size, sticking out everywhere you go, with no stable place to call home? Yet, instead of retreating inward, Shaq transformed that instability into power. Every new city, every awkward stare, every uncomfortable locker room became fuel.

He didn’t shrink from the spotlight. He made it bigger.

Shaq’s Superpower: Being Himself

Shaq could have tried to tone it down, hide his size, become less him. But he didn’t. He leaned in. His size became his strength, his personality became his brand, and his vulnerability became his magnetism.

In high school, he towered over his classmates in San Antonio and Alexandria, but he wasn’t just tall—he was gifted. At LSU, under Coach Dale Brown, he honed his game. The raw power remained, but now it came with footwork, vision, touch. He became a symphony of contrasts: brute force and soft hands, wrecking ball and ballet dancer.

My dad and I used to sit together on the living room floor and watch Shaq play in college. Even my father—a veteran guard who played against the best—would shake his head and say, “You’re watching something special, Steph. That doesn’t come around often.”

I watched with reverence, not because I wanted to be him, but because I wanted to find my own Shaq moment—my own way to make the game mine.

Shaq’s Arrival: A League Rewritten

In 1992, the Orlando Magic selected Shaquille O’Neal as the No. 1 overall pick. The NBA was ready—but they didn’t know how ready they needed to be.

From his very first game, Shaq shook the league like a force of nature. He didn’t ease into the NBA—he stormed in. In his rookie season, he averaged 23.4 points, 13.9 rebounds, and 3.5 blocks per game. He shattered backboards, yes, but more importantly, he shattered expectations.

The Magic went from a forgettable expansion team to a marquee franchise overnight. Shaq wasn’t just a player. He was a brand, a beacon, a revolution in size, style, and swagger.

He made big men cool again.

Power Meets Precision

What captivated me most wasn’t just how hard Shaq dunked—it was how smart he played. Everyone talks about his brute strength, but people often overlook his game IQ. He understood positioning. He read double teams. He knew when to pass, when to spin, when to wait.

“This isn’t checkers,” he famously said. “It’s chess.”

He wasn’t just dominating. He was calculating.

There was something beautiful about watching a man that size move with such intention, such creativity. The footwork. The timing. The patience. It was basketball art, written in thunderclaps and elegance.

Shaq and the Lakers: A Dynasty is Born

When Shaq moved to Los Angeles in 1996, the fit was too perfect. He joined a city built for icons and found a partner in Kobe Bryant—a teenage prodigy as hungry as he was talented.

Together, under the mystical guidance of Phil Jackson, they built one of the most fearsome dynasties in NBA history. From 2000 to 2002, the Lakers were untouchable, winning three consecutive NBA titles.

And Shaq wasn’t just part of it—he was the engine. The 2000 NBA Finals saw him average 38 points and 16 rebounds. That wasn’t basketball. That was myth-making.

The Legacy That Inspired My Path

Looking back now, as someone who’s carved his own place in the game in a way radically different from Shaq’s, I realize that night in Charlotte wasn’t just the first time I saw greatness.

It was the first time I believed in greatness.

Shaq taught me that being different wasn’t a liability—it was the gift. That confidence wasn’t arrogance when it was earned through fire. That you didn’t have to fit someone else’s mold to lead, to shine, to change the game.

He made me believe that I, too, could stand out—not by overpowering the game, but by outthinking it, outshooting it, and outloving it.

Final Thoughts: From Awe to Action

It’s strange how one moment can ripple through the rest of your life. That winter night, I was just a child with a basketball in my lap, watching a man too big to be real dominate a court too small to hold him.

But that night, a seed was planted. A dream was born. A future was quietly written in the awe of a boy who didn’t yet know he would one day wear his own jersey, break his own records, and light his own fire.

And it all started… with Shaq.