If fame were a fragrance, Stephen Curry would be wearing it like cologne on a summer day—powerful, inescapable, and, frankly, a little suffocating. You can smell it before you see him. MVPs, rings, record-breaking shots… It’s all part of the aroma. But what if the same cologne that makes you immortal also keeps you stuck in a golden cage, which you start to hate, and rightly so?

On a recent appearance on 360 With Speedy, Stephen peeled back the perfectly polished layers. The conversation started light—theme parks, dinner plans—but before long, it hit something deeper. Something lonelier. Something that no stat line can measure. Asked when he last used his “clout” to skip a line or bend a rule, he didn’t hesitate.

“Maybe like going to a theme park or something… you can call and be like, ‘Hey, the Curry family wants to come in.’ They’ll be accommodating. Might make you pay still, but they’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he said. Sounds cool, right? VIP everything. But hold the applause.

The GOAT of golf cart and deep threes doesn’t actually go out much. “I’m pretty much a recluse. Like I’m in my room, that type of thing. I’m not out like in the streets,” he admitted. Stephen Curry, the face of the NBA for over a decade, isn’t trying to flex his fame. He’s just trying to find a little normal. And it’s not just him saying it.

Spooky T said it straight up: “He’s like Michael Jackson. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.” And while the comparisons may seem dramatic when considering Curry’s global recognition, generational impact, and all-around squeaky-clean allure, it does make a lot of sense. But Curry didn’t stop there, even admitting that he sometimes hated it all.

“You don’t want to overcomplicate something simple like, ‘Hey, we just want to go to dinner in an hour,’ and I gotta make like seven phone calls… Like I hate—I do hate that part of it,” Curry said. But Curry’s still not complaining. He knows what he’s built. “Does this get old? People yelling your name all the time? No. I don’t ever take that for granted… Um, you have to find some balance there for sure. Like I got to be human at some point and find my peace of mind.” And balance, for Curry, comes in many forms.

Still Stephen Curry, still human

Golf, for one—he’s not just a scratch golfer, he’s played in pro events. Vacationing with the family, giving back to society with the “Eat, Learn, Play” foundation. Supporting Ayesha’s skincare empire, coaching Riley’s viral TikTok dances, and showing up courtside for WNBA games—he does it all, but on his own time, in his own way. Even losing out on the Best Championship Performance award didn’t tame him. Even so, he’s still out there with the Warriors, just as happy as ever.

He’s coming off a season where, even at 37, he averaged 24.5 points, 4.4 rebounds, and 6.0 assists per game. The game still gives him something that even the smoothest off-court life can’t: control. Maybe that’s why retirement, or anything resembling a slowdown, doesn’t sit well with him.

There’s a rhythm to the NBA grind that dulls the noise of being THE Stephen Curry and lets him just be the guy who still makes defenders look silly with a single crossover. Take LeBron James, for example. Man hasn’t even confirmed his retirement, and he’s already surrounded with more speculation than any Doncic trade ever had. And yet, that same grind forces Steph into more visibility, more cameras, more seven-phone-call dinners.

It’s the paradox of a legacy athlete—he can’t not be Stephen Curry. Not even for a burger run. What this means going forward, whether Curry plays out the remaining years of his supermax deal with the Golden State Warriors or surprises us all with a sunset tour somewhere else, has everything to do with how much of himself he can keep.

Because if fame has become another opponent, then Curry is playing chess with a camera crew watching every move. For now, he’s still dancing with the spotlight. Still launching logo threes and still making post-game pressers sound like therapy sessions laced with gratitude. But the cost of being Curry?

You don’t just get paid in sweat now. So the next time he laces up at Chase Center, know that behind every no-look three is a guy who just wanted dinner without a reservation, a golfer who wanted peace without flashbulbs, and a man who’s learning that even the greatest can feel invisible in plain sight.