When the conversation turns to Stephen Curry, the words “second option” don’t usually come to mind. We’re talking about the only unanimous MVP in NBA history, the man who reshaped the geometry of the game with a jumper that practically breaks defensive schemes before the ball even leaves his hands.
And yet, during the Warriors’ Kevin Durant era, that’s exactly the role Curry stepped into. Not because he wasn’t capable of being the alpha, but because he understood something deeper about winning.
Let’s rewind for a second. When Durant joined Golden State in 2016, he didn’t just walk into a team - he walked into a fully operational dynasty-in-progress, headlined by Steph.
But instead of a power struggle, what we saw was basketball synergy at its highest level. Curry, already a two-time MVP and the face of the franchise, didn’t resist the shift.
He welcomed Durant, gave him the keys when needed, and bent his own game to make room for another all-time great. That’s not a demotion - that’s leadership.
Think about that. Most superstars in Curry’s position would have bristled, maybe even quietly undermined the new guy.
But Steph? He leaned in.
He let KD cook. He spaced the floor, moved without the ball like few stars ever have, and made life easier for a seven-foot scoring machine.
That kind of selflessness is rare - and it’s part of what made the Warriors so dangerous during that stretch.
This wasn’t about ego. It was about championships.
And they got them - two of them, in fact, with a level of dominance that bordered on unfair. Durant didn’t just show up and take over.
He joined a culture that Curry had built, one rooted in unselfishness, movement, and trust. And he thrived in it because of Steph’s gravitational pull - the kind that warps defenses and opens up the game for everyone else.
So yeah, if you want to call Curry the greatest “No. 2 option” in franchise history during the KD years, go ahead. Just understand what that really means.
It doesn’t diminish his greatness - it highlights it. It underscores the fact that Curry was so committed to winning, so secure in his own legacy, that he didn’t need to dominate the ball or the spotlight to prove his worth.
He just kept winning.
And if we’re being honest, it’s kind of funny how far you can take this. Want to call him the third option?
Klay Thompson once dropped 37 in a quarter like he was playing on rookie mode. He also owns the record for most threes in a playoff game - a night so hot even Durant had to sit back and watch in awe.
Or maybe Curry was the fourth option? After all, Andre Iguodala has a Finals MVP on his shelf, earned in a series where Steph led the team in nearly every major category.
But that’s the beauty of Curry’s greatness. It’s not just in the numbers or the highlights - though there are plenty of those.
It’s in the way he leads. The way he empowers.
The way he makes room for others to shine, even when he could easily take over.
That’s what made the Warriors a dynasty. Not just the talent, but the culture. And that culture starts with Curry - the superstar who didn’t need to be the guy every second of every game to prove he was the guy all along.
So if the worst thing you can say about Steph Curry is that he was so good, so selfless, and so magnetic that one of the top 15 players of all time wanted to join him and take a share of the spotlight? That’s not an insult. That’s a blueprint for greatness.