Max Strus: 'Robinson Shoots Like Curry' – A Locker Room Compliment or a Verdict on Miami?

I have been sitting in a studio in Chicago for 22 years, and I have learned one thing: praise between former teammates often says less about the person being praised and more about the person doing the praising. When Max Strus sat in front of the camera for the Link With JB program and declared Duncan Robinson shoots 'at the same level as Steph Curry,' he was not just complimenting an old friend. He was redrawing his own portrait, and at the same time, inadvertently exposing an uncomfortable truth about how the Miami Heat operates.

Look at that moment. Strus did not talk about numbers. No 3-point percentages, no xG or EPM metrics. No statistical table showing how much space Robinson created for Jimmy Butler in the 2026-20 Finals. The only thing he brought was a feeling: 'He is the best pure shooter of the basketball into the hoop I have ever seen.' And then, like a decisive punch, he compared him to the darling of a generation – Steph Curry.

People see a compliment, I see a man retelling his own story. Strus is not just talking about Robinson. He is talking about himself – a shy academy kid taken under the wing of an older teammate, acknowledged as being better than him. It is a beautiful story of personal development. But if we truly want to dissect Robinson's value, we need to ask the question no one in this interview dared to ask: 'Curry-level' in what context?

The context here is a major tournament season, where national fervor and cheerleading narratives are overshadowing tactical reality. And in that context, I realize this comparison, though well-intentioned, is hiding a larger truth about the Miami system: they do not create total offensive superstars, they create highly specialized pieces – and then they rely on those pieces to go deep into the playoffs.

Robinson is not Curry. This is not a shocking statement, but a necessary distinction. Curry is not just a shooter. He is a complete offensive system: he dribbles past defenders, he handles pressure, he reads defenses and creates his own shot from any distance. Robinson, as far as we know from the 2026-20 Finals, is a master of off-ball movement, a 'movement shooter' who turns passes from Butler or Bam Adebayo into lethal catch-and-shoot attempts. But can he create his own shot against a playoff defense hunting him like prey? The original article provides no data to answer that question.

What I find even more interesting is the way the 'Robinson mentored Strus' story is told. This is a signal about locker room culture, something that data analysts sitting in offices never capture. Strus said Robinson 'took him under his wing,' pushing him to become a better shooter. When I hear that, I am not just hearing about Robinson or Strus. I am hearing about an underground player development system, where veterans pass on skills to the next generation, much like I have seen in San Antonio or Golden State. The Miami Heat, a team I have followed since the Dwyane Wade days, has always had a specialty: turning unheralded or undrafted players into important cogs. And this story is a perfect testament to that.

But let me contradict myself. Where could I be wrong? Maybe I am underestimating Robinson. Maybe, in a closed practice environment, Robinson truly is a 'different breed' – a man who, when the ball leaves his hands, you just know it will go in, regardless of pressure. I have witnessed such things in practice. But there is a huge gap between shooting perfectly in a gym and replicating that in a playoff game, where opponents will use every trick to disrupt your rhythm. Strus's praise might be completely accurate when it comes to pure shooting ability, but it is misleading if understood as 'overall offensive ability on par with Curry.'

And then, there is a bigger question this story poses for the Miami Heat: how much is a player with an elite singular skill like Robinson worth, when he has clear limitations in other areas? This is not a new question. It is the question every team with a 'shooting specialist' must face. But it becomes more urgent when you are in a major tournament season, where fan expectations can be inflated by comparisons like this. Three years we chased a ball that seemed unguarded, only to realize what we were chasing was the silence within our own hearts.

I will not make a specific prediction about whether Miami can reach the Finals this year. The data does not allow me to do that. But I will make an observation: if Robinson enters a cold shooting slump, remember this praise. Remember that it came from a friend, a former teammate, a man talking about practices, not games. And when you remember that, you will understand that football – or basketball – is never just about numbers. It is about stories, relationships, and sometimes, harmless lies we tell ourselves to believe the impossible can happen. And that, perhaps, is the most beautiful thing about this sport.