Seven-year-old Jackson DeBoer was so eager to watch Stephen Curry play Thursday in Portland, he readied on Monday his gameday getup: a blue iteration of Curry’s Golden State Warriors jersey, blue shorts and a matching Warriors flat-bill cap to cover his platinum blonde hair.

Santa Claus brought the tickets to his Vancouver home. His father, Steven, brought him 316 miles down I-5. DeBoer brought with him a black permanent marker so Curry could bring a smile to his face.

“Amazing,” DeBoer squeaked through a gap-toothed grin, Curry’s signature blotted into the No. 30 before the Warriors played the Trail Blazers at Moda Center in their final road game of the regular season.

Surrounding him were a gaggle of fans with signatures stained into their memorabilia, the arena abuzz with anticipation about an hour before tip-off.

Said DeBoer’s burly 41-year-old father, beaming with excitement because he too was spoiled by Santa’s surprise: “(Curry has) turned on a whole generation (of basketball fans). The way he plays. The way he is.”

The joy Curry brought DeBoer and his father is shared and treasured by basketball fans who convene at arenas across the NBA to watch the Warriors play. Regardless of their spot in the Western Conference, they – and he – are ballyhooed bicoastally and everywhere in between.

The sheen of their dynasty retains its glow so long as Curry can maintain his.

At 36, after 15 seasons and four championships, his No. 30 jersey remains the NBA’s best seller. His singular skill set also remains hypnotic, his shooting touch as awe-inspiring as the personal one he regularly provides.

Baked into his pregame showcases with the dribbling, spot shooting, trick shots and play-action passes are the interactions with awestruck onlookers, who speckle opposing arenas and crowds with Warriors garb, cheering for Curry – and his Golden State teammates — as if he starred for their hometown team.

Said head coach Steve Kerr last month in Charlotte, N.C., where Curry was raised and his annual return seemed to halt time: “He knows his audience and he understands the power that he has in such a beautiful way. The way he impacts’ people’s everyday lives. Whether it’s signing an autograph or saying hello to someone, the way he carries himself, he connects people. He connects the world. It’s amazing to watch every day.”

Accustomed as he is to the never-ending attention, Curry toggles between showman and everyman as effortlessly as he dribbles or shoots.

“He’s down to Earth. He’s very humble. But at the end of the day, when he gets on the court, he might seem nice, but he’ll go out and he’ll kill you,” said rookie big man Trayce Jackson-Davis, new this season to Golden State’s traveling basketball band.

“It’s business when he steps on the court, but off the court, he’s the nicest superstar I’ve ever been around and one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”

The duality is what drives the appeal.

Said Michelle Wallace of Newport News, Va., who rode five-and-half-hours to Charlotte so her 8-year-old daughter Victoria could see Curry play at Spectrum Center: “Not that I know him personally, but he seems like an overall good guy. Down to Earth. Great father, brother. … Seeing him do that, and seeing him play, I mean, you can’t help but like Steph.”

The younger Wallace, a sign in her hand featuring photographs of her in a No. 30 uniform next to Curry in his, said he chooses Curry as a muse because “he always tries his best.”  When he emerged a few minutes later from the tunnel for warm-ups, her speech turned to silence and tears of joy.

On the other end of the lower bowl, 72-year-old Cynthia Buckheister concurred, having filled for four years her idle time in retirement by watching Warriors games on NBA League Pass.

“I just watched a game and got hooked,” she said of Curry, having rode four hours from Charleston, S.C. to watch in person “how easy it is, the way he shoots.”

Tickets for her and her husband, Roy, cost $1,400. Money well spent, they figure.

“I’m so excited, I can’t even describe it,” she said slowly through a southern drawl.

Elsewhere as well, opposing crowds crescendo, forming outside team buses and inside lower bowls, where jerseys are draped alongside along the railings that frame the visiting tunnel. Selfies are snapped by fans old and new, memorializing their placement in Curry’s general vicinity.

“Every year it seems like it becomes more and more of a thing. And that support is amazing because they spend their hard-earned money to come out and watch us play,” Curry said. “Certain arenas, you can feel that energy a little bit more, even in the home crowd at times, just because they show up for us.”

An early February game in Brooklyn turned Barclays Center to Chase Center East, his misses more captivating than the Nets’ successes, his makes the cause for celebration, overpowering the arena’s white noise.

Later that month at Madison Square Garden, where his star exploded 11 years prior, his 31 points brought New Yorkers abuzz.

The next night in Toronto, having not played there since the 2019 NBA Finals, his return garnered an announcement via public address an hour before tip-off – igniting applause as he wrapped his warm-up alongside Warriors assistant coach Bruce Fraser.

Two days later in TD Garden, where Curry in 2022 put the Celtics to sleep, his sprint through the tunnel and into his warm-up was met with a chorus of cheers.

Said 58-year-old Scott Pygeorge, an athletic trainer from Concord who this season traveled to take in road games in New York and one this month Houston with his son Trevor, 32: “It’s a brand. He’s the best in terms of being humble, humility. He’s a great person. A family man.”

A showman – and an everyman.

“If you could sort of design a human being to be a professional athlete, and just create that person in a lab, you’d end up with Steph Curry,” Kerr said. “He relates to everybody and it’s genuine. He’s got a world-wide fan base that I think connects with him because he’s relatable.”