Max Strus says Duncan Robinson equals Stephen Curry: A 2.2% gap is still a historic distance

When Max Strus stepped in front of cameras and called Duncan Robinson a shooter “comparable to Stephen Curry,” the first reaction among analysts was disbelief. The comment did not come from a stranger. Strus shared a locker room with Robinson on the Miami Heat from 2026 to 2026, so he carries an emotional authority. The problem is the praise attaches to the wrong level. A good feeling is just an unprocessed error column; the NBA does not operate on locker-room loyalty. I do not watch games, I read them like a moving income statement. Duncan Robinson entered the NBA in 2026 as an undrafted free agent. He has no elite speed and does not create shots through complex dribble moves, but he owns the most hunted skill in modern basketball: the ability to catch and shoot with high consistency. Robinson has made a living from shooting since 2026. In 2026-20, he made 270 three-pointers for the Miami Heat, a remarkable number that helped push Miami to the NBA Finals. When Erik Spoelstra needed offensive spacing, Robinson provided it as well as almost anyone in the league. The context matters, however. Strus delivered the comparison while Robinson is with the Detroit Pistons, a young team searching for an identity. Detroit needs shooters around Cade Cunningham, and Robinson can solve half of that problem. Strus's compliment can be read as an attempt to protect a former teammate, or even as a media campaign to raise the value of an asset before a trade window. Basketball is full of hidden transactions. Fans are easily carried by emotion, but analysts must check the numbers. I earn my living by numbers, and I only trust the numbers that keep me up at night. What do the numbers say? Robinson shoots 40 percent from beyond 7.25 meters for his career. Stephen Curry shoots 42.2 percent. A gap of 2.2 percentage points looks small, but at the elite level it is the difference between a very good shooter and a player who rewrote history. Robinson also plays fewer minutes: 26.3 per game compared to Curry's 34.0. It is tempting to say that if Robinson played more, his numbers would approach Curry's. But that ignores a core detail: extra playing time creates extra opportunities, it does not automatically improve efficiency. More minutes bring more defensive pressure, fatigue and different physical demands. Robinson is not someone the entire opposing defense schemes against like Curry. The most important thing the Strus comparison misses is role identity. Curry is a ball-handling guard who creates his own shot from anywhere. He dribbles past multiple defenders, stops near the 8-meter line and shoots, forcing five defenders to collapse toward him. Robinson is a catch-and-shoot specialist: he catches a pass, squares his feet and releases the ball in the shortest possible time. This does not diminish Robinson, but it shows he differs from Curry by nature. One creates space for himself, the other exploits space generated by teammates. Look at the peaks to understand the real distance. Robinson made 270 three-pointers in 2026-20. Curry made 402 in 2026-16. That is not a one-game difference; it is an entire historical circle. Robinson had a great season; Curry had a season that became the gold standard. If we trust locker-room feelings, we will place a good player at the same table with a generational force. Of course, Strus's words should be read generously. In the Miami environment, Robinson helped Strus grow when Strus himself was unknown. The comparison may be a tribute, a way of saying that Robinson taught him what professional work looks like. Heat culture is strong, so former Heat players often speak about each other with extraordinary respect. But as an analyst, I cannot replace data with affection. Every compliment must be tested by asking: how many games did the speaker watch the player in, in what role and against what defensive context? The Detroit Pistons are at a sensitive stage. They have a promising young guard in Cade Cunningham, but the roster lacks spacing and bench consistency. Robinson can help solve the spacing issue, but he should not be expected to become the number one star. If Detroit plays with pace, moves the ball constantly and lets Robinson move intelligently around the three-point line, he will be a dangerous weapon. If Detroit expects him to self-create offense in difficult situations, they will be disappointed. The problem lies in the system, not the player. The contrarian angle is that Strus's praise might hurt Robinson more than it helps. When you are compared to Curry, every poor shooting night over the next month will be magnified under a microscope. The pressure becomes unrealistic, and Robinson's real value as a catch-and-shoot specialist hitting 40 percent from deep can be distorted. Robinson does not need to become Curry to be respected. He only needs to be himself and stand in the right place within the right system. The NBA will always welcome excellent shooters, but it never hands them roles beyond their ability unless they prove otherwise. From a sports-business perspective, this story shows how teams price players. Robinson was once a valuable contract in Miami because he generated spacing beyond his salary. When a former teammate publicly promotes a player as a superstar, the player's market value can rise. But a smart team does not pay based on words; it pays based on data. I have seen too many players inflated by a nice phrase, only for the team to carry a heavy contract when performance declines. So the biggest question is not whether Robinson equals Curry. The question is whether Detroit has the patience to use him correctly. If they do, 40 percent from 7.25 meters remains a precious asset. If not, Strus's praise is just a beautiful melody in a long season of noise. Every season is a fundraising round, and fans are the most unconditional investors on the planet. But for a team to go far, coaches and strategists must be colder than applause. Duncan Robinson deserves respect for what he does well, not for being put beside another name. The story has no clean ending: everything depends on Detroit's system and Robinson's consistency. But one thing is certain: data does not chase emotions.