STEPHEN CURRY’S SON ASKS, “WHAT’S YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?” — HIS ANSWER LEFT THE WHOLE FAMILY IN TEARS
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The Question That Changed Everything: A Night With Steph Curry and His Family
It was 11:47 at night when Steph Curry found himself alone in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to process what had just happened. The silence of the house in Atherton felt heavier than usual, loaded with the weight of a simple question that had shaken the foundations of everything he thought he knew about himself as a father.
To understand how eight innocent words from a child managed to break one of the strongest men in the world, we need to go back to that Tuesday night when Steph discovered there are questions that can forever change the way we see our own life.
Sometimes, it’s the simplest and most casual moments that carry the power to transform us completely. When a question asked without malice by someone we love manages to penetrate all the defenses we’ve built and forces us to confront truths we’ve spent our entire lives avoiding.
A few hours earlier, the Curry house was wrapped in the typical family routine of a Tuesday night. The aroma of homemade dinner still lingered in the air. Isha had prepared roasted chicken seasoned with herbs she grew herself in the garden, accompanied by that mashed potato dish that always made the children ask for seconds.
The sound of children’s laughter echoed through the kitchen while Riley and Ryan told stories from school, their voices mixing in a domestic symphony that always brought peace to Steph’s heart.
It was one of those moments Steph had learned to savor with particular intensity—not just because he knew how rare it was to have the whole family together without commitments or trips, but because there was something in the simplicity of these moments that made him feel he had managed to build exactly the kind of life he had always dreamed of having.
Canon, his 8-year-old son, was sitting beside him at the table, his eyes shining with that characteristic curiosity that always made Steph remember himself at the same age. There was something special about Canon—an emotional depth that sometimes surprised adults, a way of asking questions that went straight to the heart of things.
“Dad,” Canon said while Steph helped him finish his math homework after dinner, “can you tell me about real heroes?”
Steph smiled—that kind of smile that appears naturally when a father realizes his son is entering one of those deep conversations that become precious memories years later.
“What kind of heroes do you want to know about, champ?”
“Heroes that really exist,” Canon responded with a seriousness that contrasted with his age. “Not the ones from movies, real people who do brave things.”
How is it possible that an 8-year-old child can formulate questions that touch such fundamental aspects of human existence?
Steph began talking about firefighters who save lives, doctors who heal people, teachers who change destinies, soldiers who protect countries. With each example, he saw Canon’s eyes light up with genuine admiration.
“And you, Dad?” Canon asked after hearing several stories. “Are you a hero?”
The question caught Steph off guard. He was used to public admiration, children asking for autographs, people saying he was an inspiration. But there was something in the direct and innocent way Canon asked the question that made it different from anything he had ever heard.
“Well,” Steph said carefully, “I just play basketball, son. I don’t know if that makes me a hero.”
“But you inspire people,” Canon insisted. “Mom said you show people they can achieve dreams if they work hard. Isn’t that brave?”
Something that touches deeply is when our own children make us see aspects of ourselves that we had lost sight of. When their innocent perspectives remind us of simple truths about impact and meaning that our adult modesty sometimes obscures.
Steph felt a wave of affection for his son for the way Canon always managed to find deep meaning in things that Steph sometimes considered just work.
“Maybe you’re right, champ. Maybe we’re all heroes in different ways.”
They continued talking as they went up to Canon’s room, Steph carrying him on his back through the hallways in a tradition they had developed since Canon was too small to climb stairs alone—the familiar weight of his son, the sound of his laughter echoing through the corridors, the sensation of small arms wrapping around his neck. All of this created an atmosphere of security and love that Steph knew were the moments he truly lived for.
In Canon’s room, while Steph helped him put on his pajamas and organize the toys scattered across the floor, the conversation about heroes continued naturally.
Canon was particularly fascinated by the idea that courage could manifest in different ways. Sometimes saving people from fires, sometimes being kind to classmates at school, sometimes persevering when things got difficult.
“Dad,” Canon said while Steph tucked him into bed, “do all heroes have fear of something?”
“Of course they do,” Steph replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing his son’s hair. “Actually, being afraid is part of what makes someone brave. Courage isn’t not being afraid. It’s doing the right thing, even when you’re scared.”
Canon processed this information for a moment, his eyes reflecting the kind of serious contemplation that children sometimes demonstrate when they’re trying to understand complex concepts about the adult world.
Have you ever wondered how many times our children are processing life lessons much deeper than we imagine? Absorbing not just our words but also our examples, building their own philosophies based on what they observe in us?
“If even heroes are afraid,” Canon said slowly, “then everyone is afraid of something, right?”
“Everyone,” Steph confirmed. “It’s part of being human.”
And that’s when it happened.
Canon turned in bed to look directly into his father’s eyes with that intensity that children sometimes demonstrate when they’re about to ask a question they consider very important.
“Dad,” he said with a soft but clear voice, “what is your biggest fear?”
The world seemed to stop for a moment. Steph felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, as if this simple and innocent question had somehow opened a door in his soul that he didn’t even know existed.
All the casual conversations about heroes and courage suddenly gained a weight he hadn’t anticipated.
Isn’t it incredible how a question asked without malice by someone we love can hit us with the force of a revelation, forcing us to confront aspects of ourselves that we’ve spent years avoiding examining too closely?
Steph tried to keep the tone light, forcing a laugh that he hoped sounded more natural than it felt.
“My biggest fear? Ha! That you don’t brush your teeth and all your teeth fall out.”
Canon laughed. But there was something in his eyes that showed he wasn’t satisfied with this evasive answer. Even at 8 years old, he had that disturbing ability to detect when adults were avoiding being completely honest.
“No, Dad,” Canon said with a seriousness that made Steph realize it wouldn’t be possible to dodge the question. “Really? What is your biggest fear?”
Steph felt his heart accelerate in a way he hadn’t experienced in years. Not the familiar acceleration of adrenaline before an important game, but something much deeper and more frightening. It was as if Canon had inadvertently touched an emotional wound that Steph didn’t even know he was carrying.
“Because I’m afraid of losing them, every moment becomes sacred.” This phrase echoed in his mind from nowhere, as if some deep part of his consciousness was trying to answer the question before his rational mind could interrupt.
“Son,” Steph said carefully, trying to buy time while processing the unexpected emotional intensity that the question had triggered. “That’s a very deep question. Let me think of an answer that does justice to the seriousness with which you asked.”
“Okay,” Canon nodded, satisfied to finally have gotten a response that acknowledged the importance of his question.
“Can you tell me tomorrow?”
“I promise,” Steph said, kissing his son’s forehead. “I’ll think carefully and give you an honest answer tomorrow.”
“Real promise?” Canon insisted, extending his pinky in the familiar gesture they used to seal important commitments.
“Real promise,” Steph confirmed, intertwining his pinky with his son’s in a ritual that suddenly seemed much more significant than all the other times they had done it.
After turning off the lights and closing Canon’s bedroom door, Steph found himself standing in the hallway, his mind racing in ways he couldn’t control.
His son’s simple question had stirred something deep in his psyche, something he apparently had spent years avoiding confronting directly.
What was his biggest fear?
The question echoed in his mind as he walked slowly back to his own room, where Isha was already sleeping peacefully.
He had promised an honest answer, but he realized with growing discomfort that maybe he had never really allowed himself to think honestly about this question.
The rest of the night was long and restless. Steph lay awake, pondering the fragility of life, the preciousness of time, and the weight of love.
When morning came, he knew what he had to do.
At 7:42 the next morning, the Curry family gathered in the living room. Steph sat in his favorite armchair, Isha on the sofa with the girls on each side, and Canon sat cross-legged on the floor before him.
With a voice controlled but loaded with emotion, Steph shared his truth: his biggest fear was dying before his children grew up, leaving them without the protection and guidance they deserved.
Tears flowed freely as the family embraced, each member revealing their own fears and vulnerabilities.
Canon confessed his fear of disappointing his father and not being brave enough.
Riley shared her anxiety about living up to expectations.
Ryan expressed her wish to be taken seriously despite being the youngest.
Isha admitted her fears about balancing her career and motherhood.
Together, they transformed fear into strength, vulnerability into connection.
Steph’s honest confession became a catalyst for a new family tradition—one of openness, love, and courage.
This moment forever changed the Curry family, reminding them that the truest heroism lies in embracing fear and choosing love, every single day.
