The practice facility smelled like varnish, sweat, and leather. TD Garden might have been the cathedral where the world watched, but this place — the Auerbach Center in Brighton — was the lab. The place where experiments turned into habits, and habits turned into banners.
The Celtics logo gleamed at half-court, polished so clean that Kyle saw his reflection staring back at him as he laced his sneakers. Black-and-green Kyries, fresh out the box. He tugged the laces tighter, double-knotted them, then looked around.
Jayson Tatum was already warming up, headphones in, working through mid-range fadeaways like it was a religion. Jaylen Brown had his shirt off, banding resistance cords, sweat glistening on his shoulders. Marcus Smart strutted in last, duffle slung over his back, voice loud before he even sat down.
"Kyle, you ready to get that ass cooked today?" Smart grinned, tossing his shoes to the ground.
