STEPH CURRY FINDS OUT HIS FORMER COACH IS BATTLING AN ILLNESS — WHAT SHE DOES WILL SHOCK YOU!
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A True Victory: Steph Curry and the Mark Jackson Lymphoma Treatment and Research Center
The December morning in San Francisco dawned under a blanket of gray clouds hanging low over the bay. The city’s usual vibrancy was muted by the typical chill of a California winter, prompting Steven Curry to turn on the heater in his Range Rover as he navigated through moderate traffic. Ahead, the Chase Center—the Golden State Warriors’ home arena—loomed large and proud, a beacon of ambition and history.
Steph’s routine was familiar: morning training, shooting drills, and preparation for the next big game of the season. With his traditional headphones on, blocking out the world, he parked his car in the players’ lot and exchanged greetings with Jerome, the security guard who had been a steady presence with the organization for over a decade.
“Good morning, champ,” Jerome called out warmly.
“Hey, Jay, how are we today?” Steph replied with a smile, patting the guard’s shoulder as he walked by.
Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was lively. Clay Thompson was adjusting his ankle supports while chatting with Draymond Green about the latest episode of a podcast they both followed. Draymond teased Steph playfully, “You’re early today, 30.”
Steph chuckled. “I want to work on those left corner shots before Coach arrives.”
As Steph opened his locker, his phone buzzed. Glancing at the message, his expression shifted instantly. It was from Mike Roberts, an old friend and technical assistant who had worked closely with Coach Mark Jackson during Steph’s early years with the Warriors.
“Steph, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Coach Jackson has been diagnosed with stage three Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He starts treatment next week. He doesn’t want a fuss, but I thought you should know.”
The phone nearly slipped from Steph’s hand. Mark Jackson—the coach who had believed in him when many doubted the skinny shooter from Davidson—was now facing the fight of his life.
Clay noticed Steph’s change in demeanor. “Everything okay, man?”
Steph’s voice was choked. “It’s Coach Jackson. He has cancer.”
The lively chatter in the locker room fell into a heavy silence. Everyone knew how pivotal Mark Jackson had been to Steph’s career. It was Jackson who had given Steph the confidence to take the shots that would one day redefine basketball.
Draymond stepped forward, placing a hand on Steph’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, man.”
Coach Steve Kerr entered the room moments later, sensing the somber mood. After hearing the news, he offered, “If you need time, Steph, you know you can count on me.”
Steph shook his head. “No, I need to keep busy. I need to practice.”
Yet, throughout the session, Steph’s mind was elsewhere. Shots that usually swished through the net missed, and his focus wavered. After practice, he sat alone on the empty court, staring at the rim, recalling the days when Jackson shouted from the sidelines, “Shoot, boy! That’s your game!”
Leaving the Chase Center, Steph called his wife, Ayesha.
“How was practice?” her voice was warm and comforting.
“I just got some tough news,” Steph said, climbing into his car. “Coach Jackson has lymphoma.”
Ayesha’s voice softened with concern. “I’m sorry. I know how much he means to you.”
“I need to do more than send a message or flowers. He deserves that and more.”
Driving home to their house in Atherton, Steph let his thoughts wander over the Bay Area’s familiar landscape. His relationship with Jackson went beyond basketball; the coach had been a spiritual mentor, sharing a faith that was central to both their lives.
At home, his children greeted him with hugs, momentarily distracting him from the weight on his heart. But the news lingered in his mind as he sat down for dinner with his family.
That night, lying in bed beside Ayesha, Steph declared, “Tomorrow, I’m going to call him. I need to hear from him directly—how he’s holding up.”
Ayesha squeezed his hand, her support unwavering.
As rain tapped softly against the windows, Steph stayed awake flipping through old photos on his iPad—moments from his early NBA days, celebrations with Jackson, and memories of the coach who had once told him, “You will be the greatest shooter this game has ever seen.”
The next morning, a rare day off, Steph sat in his home office staring at his phone. At 9:43 a.m., he dialed Mark Jackson’s number.
After three rings, a familiar voice answered, though weaker than Steph remembered but still carrying that unmistakable confidence.
“Steph Curry! What a nice surprise,” Jackson said.
“How are you, Coach?” Steph asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Jackson sighed. “You already know, don’t you?”
Mike told me. He sent me a message yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me, Coach?”
Jackson hesitated. “I didn’t want to be a burden, especially in the middle of the season. You have your responsibilities.”
“Coach, you would never be a burden,” Steph replied firmly.
“Where are you now?”
“Still in Los Angeles,” Jackson said. “At home. Treatment starts next week at Cedars-Sinai. The doctors are optimistic, but it’s going to be a tough battle.”
They talked for nearly an hour. Jackson shared how he had ignored symptoms for months before finally seeing a doctor. He spoke of his fear—not of death, but of not having enough time to fulfill his mission on Earth. He talked about how his faith was tested and strengthened through this ordeal.
Steph listened intently, asking occasional questions but mostly absorbing the vulnerability of a man he had always seen as strong and unbreakable.
“You know what’s funny?” Jackson said near the end. “I spent years teaching young athletes about resilience and adversity. Now, I’m living the biggest lesson of all.”
They laughed, sharing a moment of lightness amid the pressure.
“Coach, I need you to mark February 15th on your calendar,” Steph said before ending the call. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What’s it about?” Jackson asked, curiosity piqued.
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise,” Steph replied with a mysterious smile.
Back in San Francisco, the Warriors faced their own challenges. Injuries had taken a toll, and the team struggled to maintain its playoff position. Steph was playing through tendonitis in his wrist, which limited his shooting.
After a frustrating loss to the Lakers, Coach Kerr found Steph in the locker room, sitting alone with an ice pack on his wrist.
“How’s the pain?” Kerr asked, sitting beside him.
“Manageable,” Steph replied briefly.
“And how’s your project? I heard you had a good meeting with Adam Silver.”
Steph nodded, grateful for the coach’s concern. “It’s going well. The date is approaching, and there’s still a lot to do, but we’ll make it.”
Kerr smiled. “You know you can ask for some time off if you need it.”
Steph shook his head. “I’ll find a balance. I can’t let the team down.”
That night, while most teammates rested or socialized, Steph met with his father, Dell, at a quiet restaurant near the team’s hotel.
“Son, you’re overloading yourself,” Dell observed, noticing the dark circles under Steph’s eyes. “You need to rest.”
“I can’t, Dad. Not now. We’re almost there, and I need to make sure everything goes perfectly.”
Dell studied his son, recognizing the same unwavering determination that had always defined him.
“Mark Jackson means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
Steph took a sip of water before replying, “He saw something in me no one else did. When everyone said I was too short, too fragile, he said, ‘This kid is going to change the game.’ I can’t abandon him now.”
As February 15th approached, the pressure mounted. Steph divided his time between training, games, foundation meetings, and frequent calls to Jackson, whose health fluctuated with treatment.
Four days before the event, disaster struck. A major sponsor withdrew support at the last minute due to internal issues.
Steph was in Chicago for a game against the Bulls when his agent, Rich, called urgently.
“We need a Plan B. Fast.”
“We don’t have time to find another big sponsor,” Steph replied, running his hand through his hair in frustration.
Then an idea struck. He picked up the phone and called Joe Lacob, owner of the Warriors.
“Joe, it’s Steph. I need a big favor.”
February 15th dawned sunny and mild in Los Angeles. Despite weeks of grueling treatment, Mark Jackson felt relatively well.
At 9 a.m. sharp, his phone rang. It was Steph.
“Good morning, Coach. How are you feeling today?”
“Better than yesterday, worse than tomorrow,” Jackson replied with his trademark optimism. “Big game today, right? Warriors vs. Clippers?”
Steph paused. “I’m not playing today. Actually, I’m in Los Angeles.”
“What? What happened?” Jackson sounded worried.
“Nothing serious. I’m on my way to your house. Be ready in 30 minutes.”
Before Jackson could protest, Steph hung up.
Exactly thirty minutes later, a black limousine pulled up outside Jackson’s home. Steph stepped out, dressed in an elegant suit instead of his usual Warrior uniform.
“What’s going on?” Jackson asked, confused as he greeted his former player with a hug.
“Do you trust me?” Steph asked.
“With my life,” Jackson replied without hesitation.
“Then come with me. We have an important commitment.”
The limousine wove through Los Angeles traffic for about 40 minutes before stopping at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.
“I already have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow,” Jackson said, thinking Steph had confused the dates.
“We’re not here for an appointment,” Steph said with a smile. “Come on, it’s almost time.”
Instead of heading to treatment areas, they entered a large auditorium at the back of the hospital.
Jackson stopped, mouth agape. The room was filled with current and retired NBA players, coaches, executives, and basketball personalities. In the front row sat his family—wife, children, grandchildren—all smiling through tears.
Banners on the walls announced: Mark Jackson Lymphoma Treatment and Research Center.
“What is this?” Jackson asked, voice faltering.
Steph guided him down the aisle as the crowd rose in a warm ovation.
On stage, Adam Silver, Joe Lacob, and several doctors in white coats awaited.
Steph took the microphone.
“A few years ago, a man believed in me when few did. He taught me not just to be a better player, but a better man. Now, that same man faces the battle of his life. We thought, what better way to support him?”
Gesturing broadly, Steph announced, “It is with immense pride that we unveil today the Mark Jackson Lymphoma Treatment and Research Center—a partnership between the Steven and Ayesha Curry Foundation, the Golden State Warriors, the NBA, and Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.”
“This center will provide cutting-edge treatment for patients like Coach Jackson and fund crucial research to find better treatments—and one day, a cure for lymphoma.”
Jackson, usually eloquent, was speechless. Tears streamed down his face as he absorbed the moment.
When it was his turn to speak, he paused to compose himself.
“Throughout my life, I’ve tried to positively impact those around me—as a coach, pastor, father, and grandfather. I never imagined I’d be on the receiving end of such profound support.”
He looked directly at Steph.
“You’ve always been special, son. Not just for your shots or titles, but for your character and heart. Today, you proved it once again.”
“Thank you” was all he could muster.
The ceremony continued with details about the center’s advanced technologies and dedicated research team. Jackson met the doctors who would oversee his treatment, and was informed all costs would be covered.
Later, during the reception, Jackson pulled Steph aside.
“How did you manage all this so fast?” he asked, still overwhelmed.
Steph smiled. “I didn’t do it alone. When I shared the idea, everyone wanted to help. Players donated part of their salaries. The Warriors and other teams contributed. Sponsors joined the project. Everyone loves you, Coach. Some games can wait. Some things are bigger than basketball.”
That same day, the Warriors faced the Clippers without their star. Before the game, Coach Kerr gathered the team.
“Today, we play not just for ourselves or a win, but for something bigger. We play for Coach Jackson. We play for Steph. We play for everyone fighting battles greater than any game.”
The Warriors won by 20 points, led by Clay Thompson and Draymond Green in a collective effort inspired by purpose.
Three months later, Mark Jackson completed his initial treatment with promising results. Doctors were optimistic, though the road to full recovery remained long.
On a sunny May afternoon, Jackson sat on a bench in the garden of the center named after him, watching patients and families enjoy the peaceful green space.
Steph, enjoying a rare day off during the playoffs, sat beside him.
“You know what’s funny?” Jackson said after a moment of silence. “When I first got the diagnosis, I thought it was the end. Now, I realize it’s just the beginning of something new.”
Steph nodded, understanding perfectly.
“In life, as in basketball, what seems like an ending can be the start of a new chapter.”
Together, they sat quietly, connected not just by basketball, but by something far greater—the human capacity to transform challenges into opportunities, and pain into purpose.
As the sun set over Los Angeles, casting a golden glow over the Mark Jackson Center, Steph realized that of all the baskets he’d made and records he’d broken, nothing compared to the feeling of making a real difference in the life of someone who had done so much for him.
More than any championship ring, this was his true victory.
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