STEPHEN CURRY'S AUDACITY that night is such a familiar hallmark of NBA basketball that it's hard to believe it was ever new. There he was, at high speed in the open court, pulling up for quick-fire 3 in transition. There he was, navigating the tightest spaces with the tightest of handles, then somehow softly kissing the top of the glass with a lurching scoop shot. And there he was, shimmying as he backpedaled to the confusion and awe of 20,000 New Yorkers in basketball's most hallowed cathedral.
Superstardom isn't born in a single night, but there are moments when it first reveals itself with a bright incandescence. The performance wasn't just transcendent -- as Curry's 54-point outburst was on Feb. 27, 2013 -- but the conditions were ripe. The game was broadcast nationally, and it occurred in Madison Square Garden, where basketball legends are codified for the ages.
The previous month, Curry had finished outside the top 10 backcourt players for All-Star consideration with fewer than 80,00 votes. But within a year, he would lead all guards in balloting with more than a million votes and make his debut on the list of top-selling NBA player jerseys worldwide at No. 5, despite never having advanced past a conference semifinal series.
By the time his Golden State Warriors vaulted to the top of the NBA standings less than two years later, Curry ranked second in sales to only LeBron James, and Curry would pass James during the 2015-16 season. Arena bowls filled up hours before tipoff with fans eager to witness Curry's pregame warm-up routine. And he would lead all NBA players in Celebrity DBI, a metric that measures appeal, aspiration, awareness, breakthrough, endorsement, influence, trendsetter and trust.
Ask the executives in the league who track revenue and they'll tell you: There have been only three superstars in the past 15 years who, as individual brands, materially drive the engine of NBA commerce: Kobe Bryant, LeBron James and Stephen Curry.
Now, for the first time since 2005, the conference semifinals are without such an icon (and at least one of the three appeared in every NBA Finals from 2007 to 2020). The NBA and its partners -- who have relied on selling the tenacity of Bryant's will, the intrigue of James' narrative and the improbability of Curry's exploits -- must turn to a crop of relative unknowns to capture the public.
No LeBron or Steph. No Los Angeles Lakers, Boston Celtics, Chicago Bulls, New York Knicks, Miami Heat or Warriors. No natural rivalries or redemption stories to peddle. It's a precarious moment for a league that loves a brand name, but an opportune moment to create some new ones.
Doing so won't be easy because that level of celebrity requires a critical mass of affection that's hard to generate in a world where attention and tastes are so fractured. Yet to secure its future, the NBA will have to stoke its star-maker machinery.
WHEN KEVIN DURANT or Damian Lillard -- or Tim Duncan and Dwyane Wade before them -- makes his annual or biannual appearance in an NBA arena, the host team can sell the date as part of an "A" package of premium games. But when James or Curry are in town -- and as was the case for Bryant -- the residue of their stardom is everywhere from premium alcohol sales in the luxury clubs to receipts from the in-arena NBA store. A midseason Tuesday night tilt featuring James or Curry can generate hundreds of thousands of dollars above a game featuring a median NBA team. KD and Dame are exceptional ambassadors for the NBA; but a night with LeBron or Steph is an official state visit.
Luka Doncic is the morning-line favorite to take the torch from James and Curry. For one, Doncic is a likely MVP, which has historically been a prerequisite for admission to the pantheon. He combines the power and vision of James with the spontaneity and guile of Curry -- and the volume of production that matches either. For the second consecutive season, Doncic trailed only James in jersey sales.
One doesn't become a mega-superstar with stat lines, though fans swoon at a 50-point-plus output; a legitimate claim to being the Best in the World isn't something a player can manufacture. It's either credible or it isn't.
For now, Doncic, 22, is still a terrestrial star, one who owns the court but hasn't yet cultivated a persona off it. With a flair for the dramatic, Doncic exudes an insatiable desire to hit the biggest shots at the biggest moments, but it's unclear whether he is interested in the curation of a public persona that Bryant and James so clearly valued in the prime of their careers. In frame and temperament, Doncic is more Goliath than David, which likely precludes him from taking the path of Curry, whose accessibility was a core part of his appeal. Curry never needed the signature shoe or the trademark campaigns of Michael Jordan, Bryant and James because he was the boy next door -- the Little Guy who could shoot in a world full of little guys and girls who aspire to.
Zion Williamson's potential as an otherworldly star tantalizes, yet he has yet to play a postseason game. Blessed with an evocative name and the right kind of hype coming out of one of college basketball's royal academies, he entered the NBA with high name ID. On the court, Williamson exhibits a muscular game that's a flattering contrast to his wide-brimmed smile.
None of this is definitive; the absence of a quantifiable formula is what makes it so special. Kyrie Irving, who has won a championship, hit the most decisive bucket in arguably the most celebrated Game 7 in recent memory. He displays an electric handle that mesmerizes both serious and casual fans, he was the star of one of the most clever ad campaigns since the advent of athlete endorsements and he has been an expressive voice in a prominent political moment. Yet even a Brooklyn Nets title next month might not elevate him to a station he might or might not want.
Even if there was a reliable blueprint, there's a real possibility that the NBA will never see another MJ, Kobe, LeBron or Steph for the same reason we might never see another Will Smith, Tom Cruise or Julia Roberts: The spotlight is too diffuse to illuminate one.
So what's an aspirational superstar supposed to do?
WITH SIX SECONDS left in a game tied at 105-105, Atlanta Hawks guard Trae Young crossed the half-court line at Madison Square Garden with Knicks guard Frank Ntilikina attached to his right hip. The staging of the moment was exquisite. The Knicks were playing the first playoff game in more than eight years in prime time of the playoff's opening weekend. Madison Square Garden hadn't hosted a crowd of more than 1,980 fans for 14 months but had 15,000 delirious fans roaring in anticipation of such a climax. Young had tormented them all night with an array of floaters, lobs to his big men and Curry-flavored contortions through traffic for layups.
Now, he turned the corner on Ntilikina and big man Taj Gibson, then flicked a floater from 10 feet out over the Knicks' best player, Julius Randle. When it fell through the net with less than a second remaining, Young stomped toward the sideline, where he instructed those in attendance to quiet down with an index finger over his lips.
"It's quiet as f--- in here," Young shouted at a horde of exasperated New Yorkers.
Ten days later, as Young threw the dagger in the series, he literally took a bow in closing out the host Knicks in Game 5.
Like James and Curry, Doncic and Young demand the viewer's full attention: You watch them even when they're not in possession of the ball; when they take their rest at the beginning of the second and fourth quarters, you count down the minutes until they return; if your loyalty lies with their opponent, their unconscionability scares you to death.
Doncic and Young aren't alone. Giannis Antetokounmpo's resounding answer in the first round to a Miami squad that dispatched him unceremoniously last year was a master class in superstar dominance. Whimsy also goes a long way to stardom, and Antetokounmpo's demonstration of soccer keepy-uppies to the delight of the crowd in Game 2 was a deft act of showmanship (as was his statement later that he has the skill to keep the ball airborne for 300 reps).
Devin Booker, Donovan Mitchell, presumptive MVP Nikola Jokic and the Philadelphia 76ers' duo of Joel Embiid and Ben Simmons all have the capacity to steal scenes and build a preposterously long highlight reel. Booker's 47-point closeout performance over the Lakers last week is a teaser for the ages. Just as Young had the good fortune to break the hearts of Knicks fans, Booker played the assassin in not only ousting the defending champions and a cornerstone franchise from the postseason but handing James the only first-round exit of his career.
Yet achievement on the floor isn't enough to build the mythology; if it were, Kawhi Leonard would command a brighter spotlight. The audience must be every bit as enthralled with your proclamations at the podium. Young, to his credit as a budding mythmaker who knows a compelling theme when he sees one, couldn't help himself postgame when asked about the bow.
"I know it's a bunch of shows around this city," he said. "And I know what they do when the show is over."
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THERE'S STILL NO substitute for moments like Young's dagger and bow and Luka's late-game eruptions, and that's especially true because it's harder than ever to use the traditional platforms of personal brand building as springboards. For example, Antetokounmpo features an attractive signature shoe, but neither he, Doncic, Young nor any future star will capture the number of viewers who watched "Be Like Mike" not only during NBA broadcasts but during "A Different World" and "Friends" -- shows that spanned all demographics.
A new generation of athletes has social media at its disposal, and perhaps the accumulation of that traffic will compensate for the fewer eyeballs tuning into the traditional TV spots. A dynamic star like Booker can channel his highlights and messaging through his disparate collection of platforms such as Instagram or TikTok. The public's ability to tap into those channels is auspicious for stars such as Mitchell and Ja Morant, who reside in small markets. They don't have to rely on the D Block of SportsCenter or the occasional 10:30 p.m. Eastern Time cable broadcasts to transmit their highlights to a sleepy public.
But none of it will offer the clarity and focus of James' "Witness" campaign that was unfurled nearly 15 years ago. One word evoked an NBA superstar. Today, not even a million likes can achieve that kind of instant and visceral identification.
Most likely, the NBA will have to create mega-superstardom in the aggregate. The league is unlikely to feature a pair of players who have the reach of a Bryant and James or a James and Curry -- or even a Magic Johnson and Larry Bird. But it does have a deep pool of talent, the product of a Golden Age of Offense that fostered unconscious shooting exhibitions from long range and unfathomable displays of acrobatics. The fractured nature of celebrity today won't allow for the singular cross-cultural stars of old, but it will afford the league a chance to cobble together a larger ensemble that might -- might -- generate an equivalent valence. Instead of one Kobe, perhaps the NBA will produce four big stars whose accumulative appeal can keep the league competitive in a crowded marketplace.
Jordan, Bryant, James and Curry were vastly different in their celebrity, but they shared one commonality: multiple championships. Winning those titles drove them, and the celebrity followed. That's what makes the drive to the 2021 NBA Finals so intriguing, even if the most intriguing generational stars aren't with us.
Winning it doesn't come with just a trophy -- but admission to the most exclusive stratosphere in sports.