It was 3:15 in the morning when LeBron James’s phone rang. On the other end of the line was none other than Steph Curry, but it wasn’t a basketball call. It was a call born of desperation and heartbreak, a call that would forever change the relationship between two of the NBA’s most bitter rivals.
The icy January wind whipped through the deserted streets of Akron, Ohio. Snow covered the rooftops, glistening in the dim light of the streetlights. LeBron paced nervously through the halls of his mansion, unable to find the peace that sleep usually brought. His hands trembled, not from the cold seeping through the large windows, but from the weight of the phone call he had received just two hours earlier.
Dr. Martinez, the family doctor, had been straightforward. “LeBron, you need to come to the hospital. This is your mother, Gloria.”
Gloria James had been hospitalized for three days. What began as a severe case of the flu had turned into a rare and serious heart condition requiring immediate specialized treatment. The diagnosis was daunting, but what haunted LeBron most was the conversation he had with his mother that afternoon.
“Son,” she whispered, squeezing his hand with surprising strength for someone so sick, “I never told you about the times I thought about giving up when you were little.”
LeBron remembered every word vividly. Gloria was only sixteen when she gave birth to him. She considered giving him up for adoption, spent countless nights crying in the bathroom of their small apartment, and had to juggle three jobs to make ends meet. Yet, through it all, she never gave up.
“But do you know what kept me going?” Gloria asked, tears in her eyes. “Seeing you smile every morning, even when we only had cereal for breakfast for a whole week.”
Now, standing in his luxurious living room, surrounded by trophies and mementos from an extraordinary career, LeBron felt helpless. All his fame, wealth, and resources meant nothing against the prospect of losing the woman who had sacrificed everything for him.
The health insurance company had denied coverage for the experimental treatment Gloria needed. It was too new, too uncertain. The clinic in Switzerland that performed the procedure had a two-year waiting list, which Gloria didn’t have the time.
That’s when LeBron did something he’d never done in twenty years of professional basketball. He picked up his phone, checked his address book, and dialed a name that represented two decades of rivalry and respect: Steph Curry.
Across the country, in Atherton, California, Steph Curry woke with a start to the insistent ringing of his phone. His wife, Ayesha, groggily murmured beside him as she checked the clock: 12:15 a.m. Pacific Time. The name on the screen startled him: LeBron James.
“Hello?” Steph replied, still sleepy but alert.
“Steph, sorry I called so late. I didn’t know who else to call.” LeBron’s voice cracked with emotion.
In all the years they’d known each other—fighting fiercely in the Finals, trading barbs with the media, and sharing a mutual respect—Steph had never heard LeBron sound so vulnerable.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Steph asked, sitting up in bed.
“It’s my mother,” LeBron said, his voice barely steady. “She’s very sick, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt so lost.”
Steph approached the window overlooking the silent valley, where the full moon illuminated their property. But her attention was fixed on the pain in LeBron’s voice.
“Tell me everything,” Steph said sincerely. “I’m here.”
For the next twenty minutes, LeBron recounted the details: the diagnosis, the limited options, the insurance denial, but most of all, Gloria’s story: the sacrifices she’d made, the love she’d given, and the terrifying fear of losing her.
“My mom was everything to me,” LeBron shared, his voice growing louder. “Father, mother, best friend, coach… she had to be all of those things because it was just us against the world.”
Steph listened silently, feeling the weight of every word. LeBron told her about the nights Gloria cried silently as she watched him sleep, the endless jobs he had, the times they moved because they couldn’t afford the rent, and how he always came home smiling, asking her how her day was.
“And you know what kills me the most?” LeBron said, his voice cracking again. “He told me today that he never regretted any sacrifice. Watching me achieve my dreams was the greatest victory of his life.”
Steph’s eyes filled with tears as she heard LeBron’s raw vulnerability. “LeBron, tell me more about her. Who is she really?”
LeBron took a deep breath and began to tell Gloria’s story: a story of courage and love that transcended hardship.
“She was 16 when she had me,” LeBron said. “The same age our daughters will be in a few years.”
Steph sat down in his favorite chair, the same one where he used to read stories to his children. The comparison hit him like a punch in the gut.
Gloria was in high school when she discovered she was pregnant. Her biological father disappeared, leaving a terrified and alone teenager in Akron.
LeBron continued: “His parents wanted him to give me up for adoption. They told him I was too young, that he had his whole life ahead of him. But you know what he said?”
Steph shook her head.
“This isn’t a mistake,” LeBron said quietly. “This is my son, and I’m going to love and care for him, even if it means giving up everything else.”
LeBron’s voice cracked with emotion. “She dropped out of school. She gave up her dreams of going to college, maybe becoming a nurse. She did it all for me.”
Steph interrupted him firmly: “He didn’t waste anything. He made a brave decision.”
LeBron nodded. “But the first few years were brutal. Today he told me stories I’d never heard before. He worked cleaning offices from 5:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., then he took care of me, and then he worked at a restaurant from 6:00 p.m. to midnight.”
“There was a time, when I was about four, when we lived in her car for two weeks,” LeBron said, his voice heavy with memories. “But she turned it into an adventure. ‘Let’s go camping,’ she told me. ‘Let’s go see the stars every night.’”
Steph closed her eyes, imagining a young Gloria protecting her son from harsh reality. She took him to shower at the YMCA, calling it her “special pool,” and gave him McDonald’s food, telling him he was a “good boy” for eating well.
LeBron explained how he discovered the truth years later, at age 12, when he found old letters Gloria had written but never sent. One was to her mother, asking for forgiveness. Another was a goodbye letter, explaining that she thought she’d be better off with a family who could give her more.
“She was planning to leave me on a family’s doorstep and disappear,” LeBron said, his voice breaking.
“But you know what made her change her mind?” LeBron asked, a light tone returning to his voice.
“I had just learned to say ‘mama’ that week,” she said. “I woke up from my nap, saw her crying at the kitchen table, and held out my little arms, saying ‘mama, mommy.’”
Steph felt tears running down her cheeks. “That moment made him realize that no matter how difficult it was, no matter how many jobs or sleepless nights, he couldn’t live without me. And he wasn’t going to abandon me like my father did.”
LeBron paused and swallowed hard. “He never made me feel guilty or like a burden. Every morning, he woke up with renewed energy, with plans for our future, with dreams of what I could become.”
Steph nodded, moved. “LeBron, I can’t even imagine it. I always knew I was lucky: my dad played in the NBA, we had stability. But your mom… she’s incredible.”
LeBron’s voice hardened with anger. “Now, when I should be enjoying all those years of struggle, he lies in a hospital bed fighting for his life. I have all the resources in the world, yet I feel powerless. Money means nothing if I can’t save the most important person in my life.”
Steph’s voice was firm. “We’ll find a way.”
LeBron was surprised. “Us?”
“You’re not alone,” Steph said. “I’m here. We’ll figure this out together.”
For the next few hours, the two men worked tirelessly. LeBron shared everything he knew about the clinic in Switzerland: the Cinev Clinic, located in the Swiss Alps, which specialized in experimental cardiac procedures. Dr. Elizabeth Hoffman was the pioneering cardiologist who pioneered the treatment Gloria needed. But the waiting list was long, and the clinic was highly selective.
Steph reached out and called her father-in-law, a cardiologist with ties to Stanford University. They soon learned that Dr. Hoffman would be attending a nearby medical conference and could contact him.
LeBron was told that Dr. Hoffman selected patients not only based on medical criteria, but also on the inspirational power of their stories. Gloria’s story, coupled with LeBron’s impact on his community through charities like the I Promise School, could tip the balance.
Together, they compiled a dossier, not only on Gloria James as a patient, but as a woman whose sacrifices had created waves of positive change.
