On an empty golf course at dusk, two of basketball’s greatest legends, Michael Jordan and Stephen Curry, walked side by side, far from the glare of the cameras and the cheering crowds. What began as a chance encounter soon blossomed into an invaluable conversation that would forever alter Curry’s perspective on greatness, legacy, and the pursuit of perfection.
It was the serene setting of Whistling Straits, Wisconsin, bathed in the golden light of a September evening. The hustle and bustle of the Ryder Cup had already dissipated, leaving behind only the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional hum of a distant golf cart. Curry, strolling along the fairway, had spotted Jordan’s unmistakable silhouette against the fading sun. Even after all these years, the aura surrounding Michael Jordan had not waned. His mere presence commanded attention, even in silence.
Curry approached cautiously, still the young boy in his heart who once stood starstruck by Jordan on the basketball court. Now, as a seasoned champion in his own right, he found himself facing the man who had defined the game for an entire generation. The hesitation that had followed him since his youth surfaced once more. But this time, his legs carried him forward.
“Mr. Jordan,” Curry called out, his voice steady but tinged with a slight nervousness. Jordan turned, and in that instant, their eyes met—those same eyes that had won championships and defined greatness. A brief nod of recognition, the smallest curve of a smile, and the iconic handshake. This was a rare moment, devoid of the usual competitive tension that defined their on-court interactions.
“Good to see you, off the court,” Jordan said, his voice deep, steady—his presence still formidable despite the passing years.
As they began walking side by side, an almost cinematic silence enveloped them. It was not uncomfortable, but thick with the weight of unspoken history and mutual respect. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and red, setting the perfect backdrop for what would soon unfold.
Curry, still processing the surreal nature of walking with his childhood idol, broke the silence first. “The course looks amazing today,” he said, his gaze drifting over the landscape.
Jordan, his hands in his pockets, nodded thoughtfully. “Whistling Straits has always been special to me,” he replied. “There’s something about this place, the way the wind comes off the lake, it makes you present in the moment.”
The two continued walking, not with words, but in a shared understanding of the rare opportunity they had to connect away from the public eye. There was a stillness to the moment—one that could only be appreciated by those who had spent a lifetime under the unyielding glare of public scrutiny. As they walked past a bench overlooking the lake, Jordan gestured for them to continue without sitting.
Curry, taking in the view, couldn’t help but marvel at the difference between their lives. “Do you play much golf these days?” Jordan asked, breaking the silence.
“When the season allows, not as much as I’d like,” Curry responded, his voice betraying a sense of nostalgia for simpler times, when the game was the only thing that mattered.
They passed the time in comfortable silence, each man contemplating the other’s journey. Jordan, a figure larger than life, walked with a quiet grace that spoke volumes about the years he had spent at the pinnacle of athletic excellence. Curry, in turn, couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever reach that rarefied air—an air that seemed to be uniquely reserved for Jordan.
As the sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting long shadows over the green, Jordan spoke again, this time sharing a small piece of his life away from the court. “I come here whenever I can, before tournaments,” Jordan said, his voice softening. “When there’s no one around, it helps clear my mind.”
Curry nodded, finding a strange comfort in the sentiment. He too had his rituals, moments of solitude before the noise of the world engulfed him.
The golden light of the setting sun bathed them in warmth, and a quiet understanding began to take root between them. Jordan’s hand was larger than Curry’s, his movements slower, more deliberate. He had lived through the expectations, the triumphs, and the inevitable weight of being “Michael Jordan.” Curry, still in the throes of his career, was learning quickly how the pursuit of greatness, while fulfilling, was also a solitary journey.
“It’s funny,” Curry began, breaking the silence again. “After 2016, when we lost to Cleveland in the finals, it felt like I had failed everyone—not just the team, but this mythical version of myself.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed in recognition, a flicker of something deeper in them. “I know that feeling,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with the weight of years. “In 1995, after we lost in the conference semifinals, I wasn’t myself either. But I came back the next year, and we won three more titles.”
Curry nodded. “It’s like you said, that loss consumes you. You train like never before.”
Jordan’s face hardened for a moment as he spoke of his own struggles with loss and expectation. “What no one tells you,” he continued, “is that it’s not just the weight of winning. It’s the weight of being a symbol. The pressure to be perfect, all the time.”
Curry listened intently, feeling the shared truth of Jordan’s words. It was something he himself had experienced, though perhaps not yet fully understood.
As the conversation continued, Jordan began to share some of the most personal aspects of his journey. The difficulty of letting go after his first retirement. The loneliness he sometimes felt despite all the adoration. The weight of public expectations—how it had defined him for so long, but also constrained him.
“For years, I thought the problem was in the quantity,” Jordan confessed. “More titles, more MVPs, more records. But I realized that wasn’t the answer. It was never about how many trophies you’ve won. It’s about the balance between effort and surrender.”
Curry, still digesting the complexity of what Jordan was saying, reflected on his own experience. The drive to achieve perfection had been his fuel, but now, for the first time, he was seeing that perhaps the key to true greatness lay not in control, but in letting go.
Later, Jordan took Curry to a secluded area on the course, revealing a small tool—a divot repair that his father had given him. “This,” Jordan said, “is a reminder that our time here is temporary. We fix the course for those who come after us.”
Curry accepted the tool, feeling its weight in his hand—heavy with meaning. He realized that this was more than just a gift. It was a passing of the torch, a lesson in humility, legacy, and the true essence of greatness.
As the night deepened and they walked back toward the clubhouse, both men shared a quiet understanding. Their conversation had transcended the game of basketball. It had become a life lesson, one that would guide Curry for years to come.
In the end, it was not the points they scored or the titles they won that would define them, but the legacy they left behind—not just in the sport, but in the way they chose to live their lives, embracing both their greatness and their vulnerabilities.
“We didn’t care that Rodman was there” – Steph Curry recalls meeting Michael Jordan for the first time as a kid
Steph later realized that he was so mesmerized by MJ that he ignored Rodman that day.
It was a dream-come-true moment for Steph Curry when he finally had the opportunity to meet Michael Jordan in person as a kid. Young Steph and his brother Seth were so overwhelmed by excitement after seeing their idol in the flesh that they didn’t even acknowledge the presence of Dennis Rodman, who was with MJ at the time.
Unsurprisingly, Curry’s memories about that day were mostly about Jordan. But somehow, he also remembers Rodman being there.
“I met him after the game in Charlotte,” the Warriors guard once recalled. “Me and my brother were getting trading cards and we were dying to get him to sign our M.J. card that we got recently. My dad set it up where we could wait outside the visiting locker room to come out. And [Jordan] and Dennis Rodman came out at the same time. We met both of them at the same time. We didn’t care that Rodman was there. I was basically kind of awestruck at first because I didn’t realize how tall [Jordan] was in person when you stand up next to him, especially with how young I was.”
Rodman was also in the photo
To this day, the moment Steph stood face to face with the man who had inspired millions of people around the globe is still surreal for him. Fortunately for him, his father, Dell, was able to capture the special moment and take a few photos.
The picture is still in good condition and despite ignoring Rodman at the time, Chef said “Worm” was also in the photo with them.
“[Jordan] He was real down to Earth, real cool and signed our card. We took a picture, me, my brother and Dennis Rodman. My dad has the picture in a little album of memories he kept from his Charlotte Hornets days,” the Golden State Warriors star added.
Steph became an influential figure like MJ
Despite aspiring to be like Mike, Curry didn’t grow up as athletic as Jordan. However, he was gifted with the ability to get past defenders with his crafty handles and knock down long-range three-pointers with unbelievable consistency.
Very much like his idol, the Dubs sharpshooter set a new standard in how basketball should be played by revolutionizing the scoring point guard position. More importantly, “Chef Curry” has risen to become one of the most influential figures not only in the NBA but in the world of sports.
