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Chapter 117 - Preseason: The Weight of Expectation

The Celtics' practice facility didn't smell like hardwood polish or sweat anymore. To Kyle, it had transformed. It now smelled like banners—like expectation stitched into fabric, pressure woven into thread. Every corner of the Auerbach Center, from the gleaming trophies in the lobby to the championship photos lining the hallways, seemed to whisper the same relentless, demanding thing: *repeat*. It was no longer a hope; it was a mandate, a burden as heavy as the iron plates in the weight room.

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