The gym was buzzing, packed with kids and parents, coaches and camera crews, all there for one reason: Steph Curry. The greatest shooter in NBA history was in town, hosting a youth camp for the best high school players in the region. Banners hung from the rafters, Curry’s face smiling down beside the words: “Dream Big. Shoot Bigger.”
Among the campers was Delorean, a wiry seventeen-year-old with a smooth jumper and a reputation as the best high school three-point shooter in the state. He’d won every contest he’d entered, and his friends joked that he was the “Steph Curry of high school.” But Delorean had a secret—he wasn’t actually a Curry fan. His idol was LeBron James.
As the morning session ended, the camp director took the mic. “All right, everyone, gather ‘round! We’re going to do something special. Delorean, come up here!” The crowd cheered as Delorean jogged to center court, sneakers squeaking.
Steph Curry, grinning and relaxed in a Warriors tee, strolled over. “You ready for a three-point contest?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Delorean nodded, trying to hide his nerves. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
Steph leaned down with the mic. “Who’s your favorite player, Delorean? Be honest.”
Delorean hesitated, then shrugged. “LeBron. LeBron’s better than you.”
The gym erupted in laughter and shouts. Curry raised his eyebrows, feigning shock. “Oh, you’re a Bron fan, huh? All right, all right. I see how it is.” He winked at the crowd. “You know, sometimes you shouldn’t poke the bear before a shooting contest.”
The Challenge
The rules were simple: thirty seconds, five racks of balls, as many threes as you can make. Steph would go first, then Delorean. The high schooler would get twice as much time—one minute—since, as the director put it, “He’s going up against the greatest.”
Steph stepped to the corner, bounced on his toes, and waited for the countdown.
“Three, two, one—go!”
The first shot splashed through the net. Then another. And another. The crowd counted each make, their voices rising with every swish. Steph moved from rack to rack, barely glancing at the rim, his form picture-perfect. He missed one, but barely paused. He missed another, then caught fire—five straight makes, the ball barely touching the net.
“Ten seconds!” shouted the director.
Steph picked up the pace, launching quick, fluid shots. The buzzer sounded, and the gym exploded in applause.
“Fourteen!” the director yelled. “Fourteen threes in thirty seconds!”
Steph grinned and shrugged, as if to say, “What did you expect?”
The Rookie Takes His Shot
Now it was Delorean’s turn. He wiped his hands on his shorts and tried to steady his breathing. The crowd was still buzzing from Curry’s performance.
“Ready?” Steph asked, handing him the ball.
Delorean nodded, determined. “Let’s go.”
The countdown began. “Three, two, one—go!”
Delorean started strong, hitting his first three shots. The crowd cheered him on, eager to see if the high school phenom could keep up with the NBA legend. But the pressure was different now. Every miss felt louder, every make a relief. He moved to the second rack, sweat beading on his forehead.
Halfway through, he’d made six. Not bad, but not enough. He rushed a couple shots, missing short, then found his rhythm again—two, three, four in a row. The crowd clapped, urging him on.
“Ten seconds!” came the shout.
Delorean hurried, launching shots as fast as he could. The buzzer sounded. He’d made nine.
The Lesson
The crowd applauded, and Delorean, breathing hard, managed a sheepish grin. Steph walked over, draped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close to the mic.
“How’d that feel?” Steph asked, smiling.
Delorean laughed, shaking his head. “My heart’s going crazy.”
Steph turned to the crowd. “That’s what happens when you challenge the shooter, man. You gotta stay humble!”
The gym laughed, but there was no malice. Steph’s tone was playful, his respect for the young shooter obvious.
Then Steph got serious. “You know what, though? I love that you said LeBron’s your favorite. That’s what makes this game great. We all have our heroes. I grew up loving Reggie Miller, Ray Allen, Steve Nash. But I wanted to be my own player, too. So keep working. Maybe one day, you’ll be the guy some kid says is better than me—or even better than LeBron.”
The crowd cheered, and Delorean nodded, inspired.
After the Contest
As the camp wound down, kids lined up for autographs and selfies. Delorean lingered, watching Steph interact with every camper, offering encouragement and advice. He realized that greatness wasn’t just about making shots—it was about how you carried yourself, how you inspired others.
Later, as he packed up his bag, Delorean’s friends teased him. “You poked the bear, man! He cooked you!”
Delorean grinned. “Yeah, but I got to shoot with Steph Curry. And he’s right—I’m gonna keep working. Maybe I’ll be the one cooking him someday.”
The Bigger Picture
Word of the contest spread quickly. The video went viral—“Kid says LeBron is better, Steph Curry cooks him in three-point contest!” Fans debated in the comments: Who’s really better, Steph or LeBron? But the real story was about respect, competition, and the joy of the game.
Steph Curry had nothing left to prove, yet he played every contest, even a friendly one with a teenager, like it mattered. He took pride in his craft, in his legacy, but he also took pride in lifting up the next generation.
Delorean went home with a new appreciation for what it meant to be great—not just to shoot like Steph, but to lead like him, to inspire like him, to compete with joy and humility.
And somewhere, in a quiet gym, Delorean practiced his jumper, dreaming of the day he’d get another shot at the champ. Maybe next time, he’d win. But even if he didn’t, he knew the real victory was in the challenge, in the respect, and in the love of the game.
