The calm was not just over; it was annihilated. The return from the All-Star break was less a transition and more a violent collision with reality. The NBA's final stretch was a notorious gauntlet, a two-month meat grinder designed to separate the contenders from the pretenders, the healthy from the broken. For the Boston Celtics, sitting atop the league with a target the size of a billboard on their backs, every night was a potential trap door.
The flight to Cleveland was quiet, the usual banter subdued. The players were locked in, headphones on, faces grim. They knew what was coming. Kyle stared out the window at the patchwork of fields and towns below, but his mind wasn't on the view. It was on the scouting report for Donovan Mitchell, a human torch capable of scoring 50 on any given night. It was on the relentless, physical style of the Cavaliers, a team built in the image of their hard-nosed coach.
