Boston, Massachusetts
The banners above TD Garden never lost their shine. Gold, green, and white shimmered in the rafters as if history itself kept them dusted and polished. Kyle Wilson stood beneath them, alone. No cameras. No fans. Just hardwood and memory.
His body still ached. The doctors had cleared him for light activity, but the front office was adamant — no full-contact drills until training camp. No risking the franchise cornerstone.
He dribbled a ball gently, letting it echo through the empty arena. No dunks. No sprint bursts. Just the rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap.
It had been nearly a month since the Celtics shut him down for the playoffs. A tough pill to swallow. He'd dropped 52 points in what would be his final game of the season. A performance that would be etched into Celtics lore — a masterpiece cut short by swelling in his left knee that refused to go down.
But Kyle hadn't just been rehabbing his knee.
