Stephen Curry’s sincere encounter: a story of hope and inspiration
In a fresh afternoon of autumn in Oakland, the sky was covered with gray clouds. Stephen Curry, tired after another exhausting training with the Warriors, was driving along the bustling streets of the city. The rain began to fall strongly, each drop hitting the windshield of his car, making the slide road. The traffic slowed down and the red light forced him to stop completely. It was then that he saw her: a fragile old woman who fought against the wind, holding two heavy shopping bags.
His thin figure hunched down under the weight of the suitcases, and the wind bursts only made crossing the street seemed more overwhelming. He doubted, scrutinizing the wet road with his eyes, not knowing whether to take a step forward. Without thinking, Stephen turned on the emergency lights, opened the door and went out to the rain. His Warriors sweatshirt was soaked quickly, but he barely noticed it.
“Lady, can I help her?” Stephen shouted gently, his voice cutting the wind.
The old woman, initially startled, looked at him suspiciously. His white hair was partially covered by a colorful handkerchief, and deep wrinkles marked the dignity that was reflected in his gaze. “Oh, I think I can fix them alone, young,” he replied, but his trembling hands revealed another story.
“I insist,” Stephen said in a quiet and warm voice as he extended his hand to remove the heavy bags. They seem heavy, and the sidewalk is slippery.
After a moment of hesitation, the woman gave. “He’s very kind on his part,” he said in a softer voice. While crossing the street together, Stephen noticed that their steps were slow and laborious, even without the weight of the purchase bags.
“I live near here,” he said, with his southern accent despite the rain. “Only three blocks. I have the habit of shopping on foot all my life.”
Stephen smiled. «It is a pleasure to meet her. I’m Stephen, ”he said, presenting himself. The woman looked at him, but there were no indications of recognition in her eyes.
“Martha Williams,” he replied with a slight assent. “I’ve been stipulated in doing everything alone.”
Upon arriving at Stephen’s car, the rain began to fall more strongly. The concern was reflected in Stephen’s face while looking at the stormy sky. «Mrs. Williams, can I take her home? It seems that the rain is not going to stop soon ».
Martha paused, watching it as if evaluating her character. “Where are you from?” He suddenly asked, with his eyes fixed on his face. “Your accent reminds me a little of my land.”
“North Carolina,” Stephen replied, surprised by the question. I grew up there.
Martha’s eyes illuminated. “I’m from Charlotte,” he said with a soft smile. It was then that Stephen realized the connection they shared, not only because of geography, but also for their roots.
When climbing the car, Martha seemed to recognize him. He opened his eyes a little and a mixture of emotions was reflected on his face. “Are you Steph Curry of the Warriors?” He asked with disbelief.
“Yes, Madam,” he confirmed with a humble smile.
Martha sighed deeply, with a trembling voice as she settled in the seat. “I can’t believe he is in Steph Curry’s car,” she muttered, almost amazed.
“Where are we going, Mrs. Williams?” Asked Stephen as he started the car.
“Sunset Apartments on Lincoln Avenue,” she replied, giving indications. It has no loss.
While driving for Oakland, silence between them became a pleasant conversation. Martha began to share her story. “I have followed basketball since I have memory,” he said. “Thomas, my late husband, was basketball coach in Eastside high school for 32 years. He dedicated his life to those boys.”
Stephen, genuinely interested, replied: “It must have been a great influence on many young people.”
Martha smiled, and her gaze softened when looking out the window. «He said that basketball was not just a sport, but a school of life. Discipline, teamwork, resilience. Even after retiring, we didn’t miss a single television game ».
When they arrived in the apartment, Stephen insisted on helping Martha upload the bags despite her protests. He lived alone in a modest but tidy space. On the walls there were black and white photographs of basketball equipment from different eras. A shelf exhibited small trophies and medals, each one testimony of love and respect for the sport that had marked his life.
“Do you want a glass of water?” Martha asked as she returned with a cup for him.
“Yes, thanks,” Stephen replied, with his eyes fixed on a photograph on the wall. He was from a young man with basketball uniform and number 30 in the shirt. Stephen studied the photo with a lump in his throat when he noticed that something in the image was incredibly familiar.
Martha, noticing his gaze, whispered: «You know, I not only see your games for basketball. It is something much more special ».
He approached a shelf carefully and took a framed photograph. He held her against her chest for a moment, seemed to arm himself with value before she gave her to Stephen. “This is my Michael,” he said with his voice full of emotion. «He wore the number 30, just like you. He always said that one day it would be like you.
Stephen took the photograph with heavy heart as he looked at the young man’s confident and a passion for basketball evident in his eyes.
“Can I?” Stephen asked gently, extending his hand to hold the photograph with more care.
“Of course,” Martha said, slowly sitting on the couch and without looking away from the image. “
Martha started telling her son’s story, Michael. “He was my only son,” he said in a firm voice, although with a touch of sadness. «He loved basketball more than anything. His father, Thomas, trained in the courtyard every day. He was not the highest in the team, but he compensated for it with an unwavering determination ».
Stephen sat next to him, listening to her carefully. “He got a scholarship for the university,” Martha continued with a proud smile. “It was not a large university, but for us, it was like winning the lottery.”
Martha paused and breathed deep. “We received the news in his second year of university,” he said in a trembling voice. “Leukemia. The doctors said it was soon, that there were possibilities. Michael fought for two years: two years of chemotherapy, ups and downs, hope followed by disappointment ».
Martha was filled with tears when opening a drawer and taking out a worn notebook with leather tapas. «Even in the worst days, I insisted on seeing your games. He said that basketball kept him alive. He said: ‘If Curry can, me too’ ».
Stephen felt that he formed a knot in his throat as he listened to the story and understood how much his trip had meant for Michael and Martha.
Martha gave him the newspaper and Stephen leaned the pages, each full of cuts from his own photos and game statistics. But they weren’t just cuts. On each page, Michael had written his personal reflections, the difficulties he faced and the inspiration that Stephen gave him.
“I promised that I would continue to see basketball,” Martha continued with his broken voice. And I have fulfilled the promise. But now, every time I see you play, I feel that Michael is also looking at you.
While Stephen held the newspaper, a deep understanding seized his heart. His career had been more than just basketball. It had become a symbol of hope, a lighthouse for others who faced much more important battles than basketball.
Two weeks after knowing each other, Stephen called Martha. “Mrs. Williams, I have tickets for tomorrow against the Lakers,” he said. “I would love to be my special guest.”
The next day, a limousine arrived at the Sunset apartments to take Martha to the game. Upon arriving at the Chase Center, Stephen received it personally at the VIP entrance. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, while accompanying her to the locker room, where the entire Warriors team was gathered.
Stephen introduced Martha to his teammates and shared Michael’s history of strength and resilience. Klay Thompson gave him a personalized shirt with number 30 and Michael’s name, signed by the entire team. During the game, Martha sat next to the court, with bright eyes of pride, while seeing Stephen score the incredible figure of 41 points.
At the time, the giant stadium screen illuminated with a special message in Michael memory. Stephen, standing on the central court, microphone in hand, announced the creation of theMichael Williams Foundation, dedicated to helping young athletes who face serious diseases.
The crowd exploded in applause, and Martha, with tears in her eyes, felt as if her son were there, encouraging her next to her. After the game, Stephen gave him the ball and the shirt he had used that night.
“It’s not just about basketball,” Martha said, tightly squeezing Stephen’s hands. “It’s about inspiring people to continue fighting, even when everything seems impossible.”
From that moment, Martha became a constant presence in the Warriors matches, welcomed by the team as her honorary grandmother. The Michael Williams Foundation grew rapidly, with the support of athletes and celebrities from all over the country, providing financial support and helping young players achieve their dreams.
And every time Stephen Curry entered the court, played for something much bigger than the game itself: for the Michaels of the world, who find strength in sport to continue fighting, regardless of the probabilities.
