The High School Coach Who Rejected Stephen Curry — Where Is He Now
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The High School Coach Who Rejected Stephen Curry — Where Is He Now?
Anthony Jang sat alone in his modest office at Pine Valley High School, the late afternoon sun painting golden stripes across his desk. On the wall, a framed photograph showed NBA superstar Steph Curry hoisting the 2022 Finals MVP trophy, his smile infectious, confetti swirling around him. Next to it, a small plaque bore the words that had become Anthony’s personal mantra:
“Every young person deserves a chance to prove their worth.”
It was March 2025—twenty years since the decision that would change not only the trajectory of a young athlete, but Anthony’s own life. Twenty years since the mistake that would haunt, humble, and ultimately transform him.
To understand how a high school assistant coach became one of the most respected voices for overlooked youth, you have to go back to a cold November afternoon in 2005, when Anthony was just another ambitious young coach. He believed he could spot talent, that he knew what greatness looked like. That day, the gym at Charlotte Christian School was alive with the energy of varsity tryouts. Dozens of boys chased their basketball dreams, sneakers squeaking on polished wood, the air thick with hope and anxiety.
Anthony stood beside head coach Kevin O’Connor, clipboard in hand, eyes darting from one hopeful to another.
“Jang,” Kevin said quietly, nodding toward a skinny freshman who barely looked fifteen. “What do you think of that one?”
Anthony followed his gaze. The kid was Steph Curry—though back then, he was just Dell Curry’s son, a scrawny boy drowning in an oversized practice jersey. Steph was shooting from the three-point line, his form nearly flawless, the ball snapping through the net again and again. But Anthony, like so many others, saw only the surface.
“He’s too small,” Anthony said, jotting notes with the confidence of someone who thought he’d seen it all. “Five-eleven, maybe 145 pounds. He’ll get destroyed by bigger teams. And his defense—he’s just not physical enough.”
Kevin watched Steph drain three more shots. “His father played in the NBA. That has to count for something.”
“Genes don’t guarantee anything,” Anthony replied—a phrase that would echo in his mind for decades. “How many sons of former players have you seen fail? This kid will never have the physique to compete at a high level.”
It’s remarkable, in hindsight, how easy it is to miss greatness when you’re looking for it in all the wrong places.
For three days, Steph Curry did everything a young player could do to impress. He shot with surgical precision, displayed court vision beyond his years, and worked harder than anyone else in the gym. But Anthony saw only a boy too small for varsity basketball.
On the night of final cuts, Anthony and Kevin sat down to finalize the roster. When they reached Steph’s name, Anthony didn’t hesitate.
“Let him grow another year on JV. If he’s really got talent, it’ll show eventually.”
Kevin looked at him, surprised and disappointed. “Are you sure? He hit 86% of his threes during the tryouts.”
“Practice numbers mean nothing against real defenses,” Anthony said, sealing Steph’s fate with the arrogance of inexperience. “Trust me. He’s not our type of player.”
With a single stroke of a pen, Anthony dismissed the boy who would become the greatest shooter in basketball history.
The next day, Steph scanned the varsity list again and again, searching for his name. Anthony watched from a distance as the boy’s shoulders sagged, then squared. There were no tears, no drama—just a quiet determination in Steph’s eyes. He walked to the practice court, alone, and started shooting again. Anthony should have recognized that look: the fire of someone destined to prove the doubters wrong.
Great things happen when extraordinary people turn rejection into fuel for greatness. But too often, we fail to see that greatness until it’s too late.
In the months that followed, Anthony watched Steph dominate the junior varsity team with ease. He led in scoring, assists, and steals, averaging 28 points a game. “The kid is on fire in JV,” Kevin remarked after Steph’s tenth consecutive breakout performance.
Anthony, peering through his office window at Steph practicing alone long before team workouts, tried to convince himself he’d made the right call. “JV is different from varsity,” he muttered, but each game made him less certain.
Universities began sending scouts to JV games just to see Steph. Amanda Foster, a new assistant coach, pointed out, “He’s making 62% of his threes. That’s NBA-level shooting.”
Anthony felt a knot in his stomach. Was it regret? Or the slow realization that he’d made a mistake that could define his career?
That spring, Steph grew two inches and added fifteen pounds of muscle. But more impressive than his physical transformation was the way he commanded the court. In the JV state semifinals, Steph scored 42 points—including nine three-pointers—leading Charlotte Christian to a victory over a much bigger, stronger team. After the game, college scouts from Duke, North Carolina, and Wake Forest swarmed him.
“My God,” Anthony whispered, the weight of his error crashing down. “What have I done?”
Sometimes, it takes seeing your mistake reflected in someone else’s success to grasp its magnitude.
The following year, Steph was promoted to varsity—Kevin’s decision, not Anthony’s. Steph transformed a mediocre team into a state title contender, leading by example and inspiring everyone around him. What struck Anthony most was Steph’s grace: he treated everyone, even the coach who’d doubted him, with respect.
After a key victory, a reporter asked Steph about his high school journey.
“There were difficult moments,” Steph said, his voice steady. “Being cut from varsity as a freshman hurt. But I learned you can’t control others’ decisions—only your response. Sometimes, the people who don’t believe in you give you the greatest gift: the motivation to prove them wrong.”
Watching the interview, Anthony felt each word as a lesson in humility and forgiveness.
When Steph graduated and earned a scholarship to Davidson, Anthony knew he’d witnessed the start of something special. But he didn’t realize he’d become part of a legend—one that would follow him for the rest of his life.
In 2015, after Steph led the Warriors to their first NBA title in forty years, he was asked on national TV about early setbacks.
“In my freshman year, I was cut from varsity. The assistant coach said I was too small, that I’d never make it. But that rejection was the greatest gift—it made me work twice as hard.”
Anthony turned off the television, his heart pounding. Within days, his name surfaced in articles and blogs: “The Coach Who Cut Steph Curry.” Some messages were harsh, but many came from young athletes inspired by Steph’s story. One email, from a 16-year-old in Kansas, read:
“I was cut from my team last year. Hearing how Steph used rejection as motivation gives me hope I can prove people wrong too.”
Anthony realized his decision hadn’t just altered Steph’s path—it had become part of a larger story about perseverance and redemption.
That September, Anthony wrote an open letter published in the Charlotte Observer:
“Ten years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my coaching career. I cut Steph Curry because I judged only what I could see, ignoring the heart of a competitor. Now, I remind other coaches: our job isn’t just to develop players—it’s to never destroy dreams. Every young person deserves a chance to prove their worth.”
The response was overwhelming. Schools invited Anthony to speak about recognizing hidden talent and giving second chances. But the most meaningful response came three weeks later, in a phone call that would change his life.
“Mr. Jang, this is Steph Curry.”
Anthony’s heart raced.
“Steph—I wasn’t expecting—”
“I read your letter,” Steph said, his voice warm. “Thank you for your honesty. I never held a grudge. What you gave me was exactly the fuel I needed. You gave me the greatest gift: the motivation to never accept the limits others put on us.”
Anthony wept—not from shame, but from relief and gratitude. Even our biggest mistakes, he realized, can become purpose if we face them with humility.
By 2025, Anthony had transformed not just his coaching, but his entire life. At Pine Valley, he and his assistant Amanda Foster had created the “Second Shot” program, recruiting kids who’d been cut or overlooked elsewhere—too small, too slow, not “talented enough.” In five years, the program produced 17 college scholarship athletes, not because Anthony lowered standards, but because he learned to see beyond the surface.
One afternoon, Anthony watched a skinny 15-year-old named Marcus Wilson practicing alone—cut from three schools for being too small. “You remind me of someone,” Anthony told him. “Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t become. If someone doubts you, use it as fuel.”
Every conversation with a young athlete was a chance to right the mistake he’d made with Steph. Pine Valley became known as the school where overlooked kids got a second chance.
Steph Curry himself became a supporter and mentor to the program, calling regularly to check on the kids and encourage them.
“Send me Marcus’s contact,” Steph said after hearing about a promising new player. “I’d like to talk to him. And thank you, Anthony, for giving chances to those who need them most.”
On his desk, Anthony kept a letter from Tyler Johnson, a “Second Shot” graduate now playing at Duke:
“You gave me the chance to believe in myself again. Thank you for seeing what others couldn’t.”
That evening, Anthony found Marcus still practicing, shooting threes with relentless focus.
“Marcus,” Anthony said, “do you know why I believe in you? Because twenty years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my career. I cut a kid I thought was too small. That kid was Steph Curry. And that mistake taught me the most valuable lesson of my life: greatness doesn’t have a size, a color, or a background. It’s about refusing to give up when others say it’s impossible.”
Anthony watched Marcus shoot, a smile on his face.
Twenty years ago, he missed the chance to support Steph Curry’s journey. Now, every day, he made sure no other dreamer would be dismissed before having the chance to prove the doubters wrong.
And that was a second chance he would never waste.
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