Nathaniel Stolle, a 4-year-old cancer patient from Middlefield, Ohio, called for Stephen Curry in the hallway outside the Warriors’ locker room Dec. 5 in Cleveland. Curry had just scored 42 points to lead his team to victory over the Cavaliers.

“Oh, Curry!” Nathaniel, smiling, shouted playfully. “Where are you?”

Nathaniel wore a blue No. 30 Warriors jersey and held Curry’s children’s book, “The Boy Who Never Gave Up.” He had played as Curry on the “NBA 2K” video game, watched his practice videos, tried to emulate his moves and savored his animated celebrations.

Curry spent about 10 minutes with Nathaniel and his family, offering encouraging words and posing for photos. He autographed several souvenirs, including the children’s book, and gave his game shoes to the boy. Curry was struck by Nathaniel’s engaging and talkative nature, especially for a kid his age.

Six days later, little Nathaniel died.

The next day, Curry stood on the court at Golden State’s practice facility in Oakland and somberly reflected on the news. He knew the situation was dire when he reached the hallway in Cleveland and Charlene Stolle, Nathaniel’s mom, referred to “rough days ahead.”

“You hear that, but it doesn’t really sink in — how much they’ve been through, how they compartmentalize and process the prognosis for their son, and the helplessness of that feeling,” Curry said softly. “It’s a tough feeling, knowing I left to go to another city to play a basketball game and they left to go take care of their son.”

This rapid turn of events was uncommon, but Curry’s outreach was not. One of the NBA’s most popular players, he fields an extraordinary number of meet-and-greet requests from seriously or terminally ill kids, and occasionally adults, across the country.

These interactions help shape Curry’s views of life and death, kids and family, good fortune and bad. He knows he lives a gilded existence: Curry earns more than $40 million per year playing basketball and another $40 million-plus annually in endorsements, and has won three NBA championships and two MVP awards with the Warriors.

He and wife Ayesha also have three young, healthy children. So it’s a jarring visit to another realm when Curry meets ailing kids and their families, desperate for even a moment of happiness. Many times, essentially, their dying wish is to meet Curry.

That’s heavy and humbling, as he acknowledged, but he accommodates many of these requests.

“We obviously are in a bubble,” Curry said in a recent interview. “We play a sport for a living and we’re blessed to have families and enjoy what we do. …

“As a parent, that’s one of the hardest things. There’s no level of empathy (possible) in terms of what these people are going through on a day-to-day basis, how they comprehend the hand dealt to their kid and their family.

“Honestly, I try not to dive too much into that when I’m talking to them. I’m sure they’re asked that all the time. You want those moments to be a distraction from the hardships they’re going through, but it does hit you hard.”

Curry is not the only Warriors player or coach who routinely meets with young fans in difficult circumstances. Kevin Durant stopped by to chat with Nathaniel that night in Cleveland, as did head coach Steve Kerr.

Raymond Ridder, the team’s senior vice president of communications, said the Warriors receive four or five such requests per week during the season, typically from families of kids with serious health issues. Most are for Curry.

Kerr said Curry is “constantly meeting kids who are struggling,” and often it’s behind the scenes with no cameras around.

“Steph understands the power he represents, how much of a difference he can make in people’s lives, and he never shies away from that,” Kerr said.

The roots of Curry’s empathy, in some ways, trace to Davidson, the North Carolina college where he soared to prominence. He recalled an adult “super fan” who, while battling amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as ALS and Lou Gehrig’s disease, sat behind the basket for every game during Curry’s three years in college.

Curry marveled at how much the man enjoyed Davidson games, and how much work he and his family endured just to make it to the arena.

“That planted the seed for me,” Curry said.

Curry also has hosted an annual group outing since 2012, a collaboration between the Make-a-Wish Foundation and the Stephen and Ayesha Curry Family Foundation. Last year, Curry hosted about 15 kids from Make-a-Wish, Dream on 3 and similar organizations. Curry rented out Boomers! in Livermore, where the kids spent the day and Curry joined them for two hours, riding go-karts, playing miniature golf and sending them home with an armload of gifts.

Still, the one-on-one meetings have the most powerful effect on Curry. One example: He met with Brody Stephens, a young Indianapolis boy fighting leukemia, when the Warriors were in Indiana to play the Pacers in November 2016.

Curry spent an hour at the hospital, where Brody showed off his extensive collection of NBA trading cards. They exchanged signed jerseys and the boy gave his “Brody Strong” bracelet to Curry, who wore one that season and still keeps some in his locker in Oakland.

Brody came to the Bay Area a few months later to watch a Warriors game. He died, at age 8, in April 2017.

Two months later, when the Warriors won the NBA championship, Curry received a congratulatory text from Jason Stephens, Brody’s dad. He said Brody was watching from heaven and the family appreciated the connection Curry had made with their son.

“It’s kind of crazy to think about the impact you have on a kid,” Curry said.

Mike Esposito, a teacher at Niagara Falls High School in New York, saw it firsthand. Esposito has been friends with Kerr since they met at a basketball camp in Italy in 1995. So when Esposito discovered that Shawn Kennedy, a local kid battling cancer, was a big Curry fan, Esposito sent an email to Kerr.

Not long thereafter, in February 2016, Shawn and his family traveled to Miami to meet Curry when the Warriors played there. Curry met briefly with Shawn before the game, then spent an hour with him afterward — bringing him into the locker room to eat and trade jokes with Draymond Green.

The experience made a lasting impact on Shawn, according to his mom, Nicole Vathy. She said he was diagnosed with a brain tumor in August 2015 and given six months to a year to live. Shawn went through 30 rounds of radiation.

Now, more than three years later, he’s defying the diagnosis. Shawn turned 8 in October and is doing well. Curry wore one of Shawn’s bracelets after they met.

“The interaction was real and seemed really heartfelt,” Vathy said of Curry’s time with her son. “It was the greatest thing ever. Shawn still talks about him all the time, like he’s one of his friends.”

These moments are not confined to road games, or to kids. In October, Curry and the Warriors received an email from Sally Baldwin of Santa Rosa. Her husband, Chad, was receiving treatment for pancreatic cancer at UCSF, where the family could peer out the window and see construction of the Chase Center, the team’s future home.

Baldwin asked if Chad and their two kids could meet Curry. The Warriors hosted them for a game Nov. 2, and afterward the Baldwins chatted with Curry and other Warriors players.

Still, most of these requests come from kids who clearly feel a unique kinship with Curry.

“I think Steph identifies with kids, because in many ways he approaches life as a kid,” Kerr said. “Every game is a joy and every day is a gift. So he almost seems like a kid at times, just the way he conducts himself and carries himself.

“And kids have always been attracted to Steph because he almost looks like them. It’s one thing to be a fan of LeBron (James) or Kevin Durant because they’re otherworldly in terms of their physical stature. Kids can identify with Steph.”

And he, in turn, identifies with them.

Ron Kroichick is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. Email: rkroichick@sfchronicle.com Twitter: @ronkroichick