The art and the science: How Stephen Curry became the NBA’s 3-point king (2024)

At a certain point, all that exists in the world is a rim and an obsession. Once Stephen Curry rises up, suspended in the air, thus begins the part of his brilliance that’s hard to explain.

Focus takes over. Depth perception and elite hand-eye coordination. The inexplicable “feel” in shooting. Up there, the switch flips. Adrenaline concocts with genetics, muscle memory and a dash of imagination to create his particular artistry.

“I, obviously, have a natural eye for the rim,” he said, “and feel and touch and creativity and all that. And I can see angles. So that’s the art.”

This place isn’t high up, not in a literal sense. Figuratively, it is another realm. Curry’s own world, where he is liberated. Plying his father’s trade. Carrying out his purpose. The perennial goal, every game, every shot, is to get to that realm. So the artist can stroke his genius. A globe of basketball fans are captivated by his work.

But some thrones aren’t won without struggle. And Curry has had a steady flow of obstacles keeping him from that realm.

His size has always been a hurdle, one not cleared by his leaping ability. NBA defenses, for more than 12 years now, have been determined to keep Curry grounded. In the process, they’ve propelled him. This is the part easy to explain, as Curry has taken a scientific approach to conquering all that’s aimed at him. He has two decades of calculation, configuration and execution. Resolve and precision are his allies in this fight.

The combination is what makes the Golden State Warriors star the 3-point king. Art and science. The intangible made possible by the tangible. All the work, the grind and the technical expertise have produced a variety of ways to get Curry to his sweet spot in the air. As a result, his mastery is comprehensive.

Curry has already made more 3-pointers in NBA games than anyone when you combine playoffs and regular season (3,434). But though he’s already eclipsed Reggie Miller, a name synonymous with shooting, Curry’s formal inauguration is still to come as he is now just two makes from breaking Ray Allen’s record for regular-season 3-pointers. Out of respect for his predecessors, he won’t rock the crown prematurely.

“I don’t even have words for it, to be honest,” Curry said recently. “I copped out to the respect, the true and authentic respect, I have for Reggie and Ray. I’m not claiming that until I get that record. And it’s not just getting the record. There’s another caveat of hoop heads knowing volume and efficiency is huge. Like, mastering both. So the fact that I have — I know I still got a lot more in my career — been able to shoot the percentage that I have in the regular season over the course of my career … with how defenses have changed against me and the shots that I take, and all of that, to me is pretty special. But to get to that number is a big deal.”

The number is but a formality. Curry already reigns.

For this article, The Athletic collected data on every single 3-pointer Curry has made so far in his career and talked to those who know Curry’s evolution and those who know 3-point shooting for a look at how an undersized college star turned into the NBA’s undisputed king of the 3.

‘Nash and Reggie. Together.’

If necessity is the mother of invention, then space was the demand that created this legend. Curry’s gift is a follow-through kissed by the heavens. But his curse is a relentless and always strengthening attack on his freedom to use it.

“Steph’s a little bit bigger than I was, but he’s still probably considered a smaller guard in the league,” said Mark Price, who shot over 40 percent from 3 in his 12 seasons as a point guard in the league. “And so just the ability to navigate, play against bigger players, stronger players, more athletic players. And just his ability to create shots. The ability to get it off, especially when you’re a smaller guard, that was something I was constantly working on because you just don’t have a lot of space sometimes. … And Steph’s motion is so compact, and he’s able to replicate that same shot no matter where he’s at on the floor.”

When Curry was in middle school, his father changed his form so he could get shots off without getting blocked. After his sophom*ore year in college, which he capped with one of the NCAA Tournament’s all-time great runs, it was his father’s wisdom again setting him up for greatness. Dell Curry — who made 1,245 regular-season 3-pointers in his 16 seasons, plus another 41 3s in the playoffs — warned his oldest son he would need to play point guard in the NBA. The advice would prove a critical building block in the making of the 3-point king.

After two years in the Davidson program and 58 games off the bench, Jason Richards was the next-in-line point guard for the Wildcats when Curry arrived in 2006. So Curry spent two seasons playing off guard, focused mostly on getting off his shot. A mixture of spotting up and running off screens was how he got most of his 23.7 points per game over his first two years. He made 284 3s at a clip of 42.5 percent playing like Reggie Miller. But Curry was 6-foot-2 without shoes and 181 pounds. He wasn’t 6-7 like Miller or even 6-4 like his dad. Space to shoot was going to be harder to come by for someone his size. He needed to give himself more options to have a better chance. So he listened to his father and returned to school as Davidson’s next-in-line point guard.

Davidson is where Curry conceived how he could become great: combine the off-ball mastery that made him a college star with the on-ball skills he developed his junior season. He could see it. His imagination got its blueprint.

“It was (Steve) Nash and Reggie,” Curry said. “Together.”

Curry was much more Reggie early in his NBA career while playing next to a ball-dominant veteran guard in Monta Ellis. Over Curry’s first three seasons, only 23.4 percent of his 372 made 3-pointers came off the dribble.

But when Ellis was traded in 2012, Curry became the point guard in Mark Jackson’s offense, which featured a lot of pick-and-roll and isolation. He entered the next phase in his ascension.

Curry broke the single-season record with 272 3s in his first year at the helm of the Warriors (2012-13), and 44.1 percent were off the dribble. He took 600 3s that year and made 45.3 percent. His vision was being realized right before his eyes.

His greatest pride in all this is maintaining his efficiency. Making 40 percent of his 3s for a season is the low bar, no matter how many he takes. He’s at 43.2 percent for his career. He’s going to be tops in makes and just third in attempts.

That’s confirmation his special talent and how he wielded it was an asset to winning, not an impediment.

“One thing people don’t realize (is) how hard it is to shoot 14 3s a game,” said Curry, who is averaging over 13 attempts per game this season. “That’s hard.”

He’s able to do it because of his versatility as a shooter. Off-screen specialists can’t do it off the bounce like Curry. Spot-up shooters don’t keep the same accuracy when on the move in transition. Corner 3 experts usually can’t extend their range with reliability.

You name it, Curry can shoot it with the best of them. Catch-and-shoot. Step-back. From deep. After a series of crossovers. Curling off a screen. Going left. Going right. From either wing, either corner. Standing still or after a full sprint. It’s all in his arsenal.

“I think people have compared him to myself and Reggie, to other past shooters, great shooters in the NBA,” Ray Allen said. “But he really, and I’ve said this before, he really operates somewhat in a lane of his own. Being able to play the way he plays, shooting the ball the way he shoots it. … There’s nothing really that anybody can do to keep him from being able to score the basketball.”

‘He’s an alien. I don’t understand’

The Warriors’ 2014 playoff series against the Clippers was an eye-opener for Curry. He had elevated to a level where Chris Paul was becoming a rival — and he was a master space-robber, depriving Curry of every inch he could.

An illustrative play came in the final seconds of Game 3 at Oracle Arena. Curry took the inbounds pass on the right wing with 7.8 seconds left. He dribbled to the left wing trying to get away from Paul, who’s shorter by a few inches but was stronger and aggressively physical. He kept his left forearm attached to Curry as they raced to the left wing. When Curry dipped forward towards the basket, setting up his stepback, Paul was able to hold his ground. And when Curry rose up for the shot, Paul was still glued to him. A bump in the hip threw off Curry’s balance. He was in the air, but he wasn’t free. His art was interrupted by Paul’s forearm.

“That last shot was crazy,” Curry said.

After Curry first broke Allen’s single-season record, teams stopped defending him with point guards. They put shooting guards and small forwards on him, using the wingspan and the bigger body in an attempt to overwhelm Curry. If they did use a point guard, it was someone who would hound him like Paul did.

The book on Curry was to be physical with him, take away his space and freedom of movement.

In that playoff series against the Clippers, it was clear this was a vulnerability. In a sense, Paul would be pivotal on Curry’s road to the throne.

Curry and Brandon Payne, founder of Accelerate Basketball and Curry’s trainer, set on a path to make him stronger. They turned up the science. Curry’s makes dropped in 2014, even with his attempts increasing. That had to change.

The strength opened up more ways for Curry to get free, rise above the chaos aimed at keeping him restricted. He could handle the ball better under pressure, even keep a sure dribble while dishing out physicality.

“What for me is more impressive is how great of a dribbler he is,” Allen said, “because now he can get to those spots. So one of the things that separate some of the great shooters is their ability to get to those shots. He can get to any spot on the court and get it off fast. I can get it off fast. I wasn’t as great of a dribbler as he is. So he’s getting through tight little crevices. … So it makes him such a huge threat all around the floor.”

The added strength didn’t speed up his release, but it gave him the ability to keep its quickness even under duress. It improved his ability to shoot going right, which is slightly unnatural for a right-hander. He and Payne noticed he was a predictable drive every time he went right.

The end game for the strength was endurance. It wasn’t just about keeping his balance or being able to dish out some physicality. But he needed to be able to withstand and still have the power to get to that realm. The ability to take the hand checks, the larger hovering bodies, to burn energy going through a series of dribbles or sprinting off screens, and still have enough to lift off without compromising balance and form.

“He’s an alien. I don’t understand,” Jrue Holiday said earlier this year. “I fouled him on a halfcourt shot. … I’m pretty sure he didn’t even look at the rim and he still almost made it. It hit the back of the rim. And they didn’t call the foul. I’m like, ‘What is wrong with you? Like, what do you take? Can I get some of it please? Because, like, you’re insane.’”

‘Make it a marathon’

A shirtless Curry sat at his cubicle in the visiting locker room of Toyota Center, cutting the tape off his ankles. He was surrounded by the buzz of victory after the Warriors survived a Game 7 against Houston, sending them to the 2018 NBA Finals. Curry, tasked with explaining yet another big third quarter, looked up and relayed one word. He had scored 19 of his 27 points in the second half, making 5 of 9 from 3 to go with 7 rebounds and 5 assists after halftime. Meanwhile, Houston missed 27 consecutive 3-pointers and managed just 38 second-half points. And Curry summed it up with one word.

“Endurance.”

He then stood up, his still expression morphed into a scowl. He slapped his right hand against his bare chest, hard enough to make his pecs blush a bit.

“You gotta have the conditioning,” he said. “You gotta get stronger as the game goes on. You gotta be built for the long game.”

And then he snapped out of the gladiator caricature and broke into a smile. Then finished peeling off his uniform.

He wasn’t joking though.

“I don’t think people understand how great his motor is,” LeBron James once said. “He never stops moving.”

Adopting Reggie Miller’s game meant adopting Miller’s mentality. The Curry of his day, living by the 3 in an era of midrange jumpers and post-ups, Miller knew he had one thing going for him (aside from his exceptional shooting). That nobody could outlast him.

“I was always going to make an NBA game a marathon,” Miller said. “You may do whatever you do in the first or second, or even the third quarter. The fourth quarter, that’s winning time. And I know I’ve always been in the best shape of anyone. Steph, Klay, Rip Hamilton, those guys that can run all day, you just wear your opponent down.And it’s cool to see the defender in the fourth quarter hunched over, grasping their shorts. You did your job. Make it a marathon.”

Perhaps the hardest thing Curry does is run through a gauntlet of screens. Sometimes, it’s the only way he can get space. When Paul or anyone else is glued to him, his answer is to make it a marathon, see how they hold up in the Curry obstacle course.

His approach is meticulous and highly technical. It’s a delicate balance between power and grace, speed and balance, deception and confidence.

It’s all about the early work. Yes, the man who regularly rises with the roosters to train believes in early work. It’s knowing he wants to go right so he gets his man to lean left. It’s the lull before the all-out sprint to a spot. It’s timing his movements to maximize the screen. It’s setting a legitimate screen before suddenly popping out. So many hours of repetition, of precise drilling and specific muscle development, all to get to the money sequence.

“It’s just like a moment when you know you’re about to shoot,” Curry said. “That’s when everything starts.”

The ideal: coming off the screen in such perfect rhythm that there is no hesitation or interruption between the catch and the release. Getting that requires a symphony of elements to be in sync, a frenetic dance choreographed over untold hours. He needs the agility to matriculate his random, winding paths. He needs the efficiency of movement to ever-so-seamlessly transition from running 100 miles an hour to being in position to shoot. He needs strength to endure all the running, and grabbing, and holding, and bumping, and still have the fuel left to generate the energy he needs to shoot.

“That’s the endurance part,” Curry said. “Because your legs can burn out taking all that momentum going this way, this way, this way. And then, in the end, you have to get the lift.”

The power for liftoff is imperative because the catch-and-shoot life doesn’t always allow for perfect feet placement or the time to get fully set.

“You do so much moving, there’s so much holding, fist-clinching, the defender tripping you damn near coming off these screens, you gotta be able to have balance,” Miller said. “You look at a lot of his shots, a lot of my shots when we come off screens, it looks like we’re off balance or not squared to the basket. But as long as you can, whatever side you’re coming off, get that shoulder squared then you’re good to go. The fundamentals are key. Obviously, Steph has Dell talking to him, so he knows. Footwork. Footwork. Footwork. You’ve got to have impeccable footwork stopping on a dime. And because you never know if you’re going to get that shot or take it off the dribble. Footwork and balance are so key.”

When it all works harmoniously, it creates an energy that builds from his feet and rises up. His feet might be pointing in a different direction. His body might be contorted in a way coaches don’t teach. But it all works if he can just get to that point in his shot. Then it becomes a thing of beauty.

‘Impossible to guard’

The play drew national attention because of the technical foul gesture Curry made, aimed presumably at referee Gediminas Petraitis who T’d Curry up earlier in the Warriors’ Nov. 28 game against the Clippers. But preceding the play was a flex of Curry’s repertoire that has taken him to another level.

It was a gradual transition as he brought the ball up — until he darted down the left sideline, past the Eric Bledsoe-Reggie Jackson trap waiting for him. And then he pulled up for a shot that illustrates his kingship. He went from a sprint into a stepback, rising up for a 3-pointer while the defense was reacting to his jab towards the basket. His right leg wandered as he lifted off. His momentum drifted him to the left corner, changing the angle of the shot live in real-time.

The Warriors had 18 seconds on the shot clock when he pulled up. For most of basketball’s history, this was madness, the point guard racing down the court and pulling up for a deep, off-balance jumper over two defenders early in the possession. Now, it’s one of the deadliest weapons.

“When Steph just is aggressive and is shooting his 30-footers in transition and going nuts,” Warriors head coach Steve Kerr has said, “that’s when we are at our best.”

It was under Kerr when the transition 3s took off. But the origins come from the 2013 NBA playoffs. In Game 4 of the Warriors’ first-round series, Curry got hot in the third quarter. Oracle was in a frenzy. The visiting Nuggets were in disarray trying to slow him down. Chaos took over.

He stole the ball from Denver guard Ty Lawson and started a fast break. He had Lawson pursuing him from behind. He had Andre Iguodala in front of him, and not much clarity about where the other defenders were coming from. So when he looked up and saw the rim, he pulled. It was random. Perhaps ill-advised. But it wasn’t congested. He found an opening in the chaos where he could rise up and get to that realm.

“It was kind of just, that’s where the most space was,” he said. “So you can just take off and shoot it and keep the defense on its heels. And then it just slowly progressed from there and became more about range.”

Defenses had to change. He had too many options for one man to solve him. He has too many ways to hurt a defense that it requires a concerted effort. And the euphoria he creates with his style of play adds an element of trepidation for those who face getting burned by his artistry.

“Fear. You have a little fear,” Dwyane Wade said in April on “Inside the NBA.” “And not from, like, you’re scared of a guy. But just not knowing what he’s going to do. When a guy’s coming up, and obviously he has an amazing handle, but when a guy can shoot from anywhere on the floor, when he shoots ’em going left and he shoots ’em going right, and then when he gives the ball up, he’s even more deadly with his cuts, with his screening, with his ability to come off screens. He’s just impossible to guard.”

Curry said 2014-15 was when he started taking advantage of the transition 3s more. By 2015-16, it was a featured item in the repertoire. And with that, he added range. He started shooting from deeper, and a whole new paradigm was unveiled.

Arguably Stephen Curry’s most famous shot, the February 2016 game-winner against the Thunder, was conceived a year earlier against Orlando. In that game, Curry came down court with six seconds left and the Warriors down two. Instead of looking to get a high-efficiency shot near the basket, he used an inside-out dribble to get free of Magic forward Tobias Harris and Curry drilled the 3-pointer to put the Warriors ahead.

That’s when it hit him he could really go for it, that what he could do was even more potent, though riskier. By the time he was dribbling up the court in 2016, in a tie game inside of five seconds left, his paradigm had already changed.

It was nothing to pull from 37 feet. All that mattered was he had space. Which means he had the ability to get to that spot in the air.

That’s where the 3-point king creates his masterpieces.

(Top illustration: Sean Reilly / The Athletic)