Matt Barnes Explains Why Some NBA Players Grew Jealous of Golden State Warriors Superstar Stephen Curry’s Rise and Impact
Former NBA player Matt Barnes recently opened up about an often unspoken dynamic within the league: the jealousy that some NBA players have felt toward Golden State Warriors superstar Stephen Curry. In a candid conversation on a popular sports podcast, Barnes provided insight into the psychology of professional athletes and how Curry’s meteoric rise, sustained dominance, and revolutionary impact on the game have sparked envy among some of his peers. While Curry is universally respected for his talent and accomplishments, Barnes argues that the unique nature of his ascent created complicated feelings among fellow players—especially those who followed more traditional paths to NBA stardom.
Curry, the son of former NBA sharpshooter Dell Curry, entered the league in 2009 as a relatively unheralded lottery pick from Davidson, a small mid-major college that rarely produced NBA talent. At the time, many doubted whether Curry’s slender frame and unorthodox shooting style would translate to the professional level. Yet, within a few years, he not only proved those doubters wrong but completely transformed how basketball is played. His deep shooting range, quick release, and off-ball movement reshaped offensive strategy across all levels of the sport.
Barnes, who played 14 seasons in the NBA and spent time with Curry during his Warriors tenure, noted that Curry’s rise wasn’t built on the same foundations as many of his peers. Most NBA superstars fit a physical archetype—high-flying athletes, physically dominant scorers, or two-way forces who overwhelm opponents with size and strength. Curry, by contrast, relied on skill, finesse, intelligence, and a style that seemed almost effortless. To some, especially those who had clawed their way into the league through grit and physical dominance, Curry’s smoothness could be both awe-inspiring and frustrating.
What separates Curry, Barnes explained, is that he made the impossible look easy. Night after night, Curry would pull up from 30 feet with confidence, dance around defenders with dazzling handles, and turn ordinary games into spectacles. This style, which enthralled fans and made Curry one of the most popular players in the world, also created a sense of disconnect for some of his peers. In a league where status is everything, watching a player who didn’t fit the traditional mold achieve historic success could trigger envy—even among fellow professionals.
Barnes pointed out that Curry’s influence extended beyond just the court. He became a cultural icon, garnering massive endorsement deals, a global fan base, and the reputation of being the NBA’s “nice guy”—a clean-cut, family-oriented superstar who never seemed to get into off-court drama. While that image contributed to his widespread appeal, it also sparked some resentment. Barnes noted that certain players felt Curry was overly protected by media narratives and league officials, suggesting that his popularity sometimes shielded him from criticism others would face for similar actions or mistakes.
There’s also the fact that Curry’s success came within the framework of a team-first environment that emphasized ball movement, selflessness, and culture—traits that often contrasted with the more individualistic approach taken by other stars. The Warriors’ system under Steve Kerr, which emphasized spacing, player movement, and unselfish play, allowed Curry to thrive without dominating the ball the way traditional superstars might. His willingness to relocate off the ball, let others shine, and buy into the team concept made him beloved by coaches and fans alike. But for some players accustomed to being the alpha on their teams, this style—and the accolades it earned—seemed counterintuitive to the NBA’s usual hierarchy of stardom.
Barnes acknowledged that jealousy doesn’t necessarily mean players dislike Curry personally. In fact, most admire his work ethic, humility, and the way he carries himself. But admiration can coexist with envy, especially in a profession as competitive and ego-driven as professional basketball. When one player receives overwhelming praise, media attention, and influence, it can create a natural human response—even among those at the top of their game. In Curry’s case, his uniqueness made him harder to compare to, which in turn made his greatness feel more elusive to others.
A particularly important moment in Curry’s journey—and one that intensified these feelings—was the 2015–16 season, when he won his second MVP award (this time unanimously) and led the Warriors to a historic 73–9 regular-season record. That season solidified his place among the NBA’s elite and redefined what dominance could look like. He wasn’t overpowering teams with size or athleticism. He was dismantling them with precision, poise, and shooting that defied logic. His very existence on the court stretched defenses to their breaking point. And with each logo three-pointer and mind-bending highlight, the aura around him grew.
Barnes explained that for many players, watching someone like Curry—who didn’t have to overpower defenders physically, didn’t need to constantly isolate, and who didn’t trash talk or intimidate—dominate at that level was disorienting. It wasn’t how many players were taught to play, and it wasn’t how most players had been evaluated. Yet Curry made it work, and the league changed around him. Young players began emulating his style, high school gyms became shooting galleries, and the days of traditional post play began to wane. The ripple effects of his game were massive, and not everyone welcomed the change.
Adding to the tension was the 2016 offseason, when the Warriors landed Kevin Durant in free agency. This move, orchestrated in part due to Curry’s willingness to recruit another superstar, further shifted the power dynamic in the league. While some praised Curry for sacrificing his own numbers and spotlight to accommodate Durant, others viewed it as an unfair stacking of talent. The perception that Curry had created a “super team” that would dominate the NBA for years only heightened resentment. In the minds of some players, it wasn’t just that Curry had changed the game—it was that he now had overwhelming help to win titles, making the challenge of competing against him even more daunting.
Still, Barnes was careful to emphasize that Curry earned everything he has. The jealousy, he argued, says more about the nature of competition than it does about Curry himself. In a league full of alpha personalities, where careers are built on reputation and legacy, watching another player consistently shine—especially one who doesn’t look or play like the typical superstar—can stir uncomfortable emotions. And Curry, with his boyish smile and killer instincts, has become the face of a basketball revolution that some weren’t ready for.
Over time, Barnes believes that most players have come to appreciate Curry’s greatness, even if they didn’t initially. His consistency, durability, leadership, and ability to elevate those around him have solidified his place as one of the greatest point guards of all time. Moreover, his humility and team-first mentality have helped defuse some of the initial tension. As newer stars have emerged, and the league has evolved further into a three-point-heavy, pace-and-space game, Curry’s legacy has only grown in stature.
Ironically, the very things that once sparked jealousy—his style, his popularity, his effortless brilliance—are now the elements most celebrated about him. Barnes sees this as a sign of Curry’s staying power and the way he’s changed the conversation around what greatness can look like in the NBA. For young players entering the league today, Curry is a blueprint for success that doesn’t require overwhelming athleticism or brash self-promotion. It requires skill, discipline, and vision.
As for the future, Curry’s legacy continues to unfold. With four championships, multiple MVPs, and countless accolades, he has nothing left to prove. Yet he remains driven, competitive, and committed to winning. His influence on the game will be felt for generations, both in the players who model their games after his and in the way teams are constructed. And while jealousy may have once shadowed his rise, it now pales in comparison to the respect he commands.
In the end, Barnes’s reflections serve as a reminder that even in a league filled with greatness, the path to universal respect is rarely smooth. Curry’s journey—marked by doubt, disruption, and dominance—was bound to provoke strong reactions. But it’s also what makes his story so compelling. He didn’t just win; he changed the game. And in doing so, he redefined what greatness can look like in the modern NBA.
