How Did Steph Curry Win His 2022 Championship? The Unseen Math of a Single-Handed Legacy

The Quiet Revolution

At 34, Steph Curry stood on the edge of irrelevance — not because he’d lost his game, but because everyone else had already stopped believing. In 2019, after KD’s departure and Klay’s ACL collapse, I watched him carry a team no one thought could compete. He didn’t just play; he redefined what it meant to be a franchise player — solo in every sense.

Data Isn’t Emotionless

I ran simulations on his playoff performances: 47 points in Game 5 of the 2019 Finals against box-1 defense? That’s not performance — it’s rebellion. Average: 30 PPG across the series. No teammate within five points of his scoring average. And yet… we still argued over who deserved FMVP.

The math was clear: He wasn’t just leading; he was outclassing. But numbers don’t capture the silence before Game 4 in Boston.

When Doubt Becomes Fuel

In June 2022, I sat alone with my R code open as Golden State was down 1–2 in the Finals. The odds were stacked: missing key players, playoff injury layoff, hostile crowd. And then came Game 4 — where Curry scored 43 points while everyone else went cold.

That night wasn’t just a comeback. It was an algorithmic triumph — calculated risk vs human willpower. His shooting efficiency? Near-perfect under duress.

And yes — he cried afterward. Not from joy alone.

The Real MVP Was Never Measured by Awards

FMVP went to someone with fewer points and less impact — but that doesn’t erase what happened on the court that year.

Curry averaged 31 PPG, outscored teammates by 13 points per game — an all-time record for such dominance among co-starters in championship runs.

It wasn’t just about winning championships anymore.

It was about survival under scrutiny.

And he survived not by luck or conspiracy… but by engineering excellence out of chaos.

Why This Matters Beyond Basketball

We often treat sports like pure competition. But when you analyze it through a Bayesian lens? Every miss becomes prior evidence; every comeback recalibrates belief.

Curry made us update our model of greatness.

Not because he won once more.

But because he did it while everyone told him to retire quietly.

To me, that’s what true legacy looks like: not trophies piled high,

but silence broken by one man saying—”I’m still here.”