Chapter 116 - Training Camp Shadows

The smell was the first thing that hit him, a familiar and comforting assault on the senses. It was the unique, sacred aroma of the gym: the sharp, acrid tang of fresh sweat, the clean, dusty scent of polished hardwood, and the underlying note of leather from a dozen basketballs. TD Garden was a pristine, gleaming palace when the media and the fans were around, a stage set for spectacle. But in the raw, unvarnished hours of training camp, the place had a different, more primal pulse. It was a workshop, a laboratory, a proving ground. The soundscape was a relentless symphony of squeaking sneakers cutting and pivoting on the varnish, the rhythmic, pounding percussion of balls being dribbled and passed, the staccato bark of coaches' instructions, and from the adjacent weight room, the heavy, metallic clanks of iron plates and racks echoing through the halls like war drums signaling the approach of battle.