Preseason Game 2 – Celtics vs. 76ers

The Wells Fargo Center buzzed with that usual Philly hostility. It didn't matter that it was only preseason — the fans came ready to boo anything in green.

Kyle jogged onto the court, hearing the jeers. "Boston flop!" someone screamed. Another voice: "Wilson! Sophomore slump coming!"

Brad Stevens leaned into Kyle before tip. "Don't force. Let the game come to you. It's not about stats tonight."

Easier said than done.

First quarter — Kyle touched the ball on a swing pass. Tyrese Maxey shaded him tight, crouched low, daring him to dribble. Kyle jabbed once, then pulled up from the elbow. Clank. Too short. The Philly crowd roared.

But next possession, he crashed the boards, snatched an offensive rebound right over Tobias Harris, and hammered home a putback dunk. That shut the crowd up for a second.

By halftime, Kyle had 6 points, 5 rebounds, 2 blocks. Nothing flashy. But he noticed something — Philly was testing him, running sets to see if he'd bite on fakes, if he'd get lost in rotations. Twice he did, leaving P.J. Tucker wide open in the corner.

On the bench, Marcus Smart leaned over. "That's what preseason's for. They tryna feel you out. Next time, flip it on 'em."

Fourth quarter — Kyle caught the ball on the wing, jabbed, spun baseline. Joel Embiid rotated late, and Kyle rose right into him, taking the hit and finishing through. The whistle blew. And-one.

The Celtics bench jumped. Kyle pounded his chest once but didn't smile. He hit the free throw, checked the scoreboard. Didn't matter it was preseason. He wanted to win.

Final stat line: 14 points, 9 rebounds, 3 blocks. Celtics lost by 4.

Brad in the locker room: "Good minutes. But remember, every mistake's on film. Clean it up. You'll see this team again when it counts."

Kyle sat quietly, towel over his head. His body was sweating from the game, but his mind was sweating from something else — the image of Derrick at a street court in Jamaica, yelling at him to "finish strong."

Preseason Game 3 – Celtics vs. Knicks (Madison Square Garden)

MSG. The Mecca. Even preseason here felt like a playoff crowd. Celebrities lined the sidelines, cameras everywhere.

Tatum nudged Kyle during warmups. "First time in the Garden. Don't blink. They'll swallow you alive."

Kyle nodded, bouncing the ball, but his hands felt clammy.

Tip-off — the Knicks' crowd booed instantly. Every Celtics possession was met with venom. Kyle checked in midway through the first, guarded by R.J. Barrett.

Barrett got physical right away, bodying him off his spots, jawing. "You still soft. One ring don't mean you ready for this."

Kyle didn't respond. Third possession, he caught the ball top of the key, took two hard dribbles left, rose for a midrange pull-up — swish. Next time down, Barrett tried to muscle him on defense. Kyle spun baseline, drew a foul, hit both free throws.

By halftime: 9 points, 4 boards. But no smile, no celebration.

Second half — the Garden turned cruel. Every miss, every turnover, the crowd chanted "OVERRATED! OVERRATED!" Kyle bricked a three in the third, and the chants doubled.

He almost snapped — almost yelled back. But instead, he grabbed the next defensive rebound, sprinted coast to coast, and slammed it over Mitchell Robinson.

The boos turned to gasps.

Jaylen Brown slapped him on the back. "That's how you shut 'em up."

Celtics won 101–97. Kyle finished with 17 points, 7 rebounds, 2 steals. Solid. But in the tunnel after the game, he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror — drenched in sweat, face locked in a scowl. He thought of Nichola, and the chants echoed in his head like Kingston voices: You not ready. You soft.

Preseason Game 4– Celtics vs. Raptors (Toronto)

Canada was quieter. The crowd less hostile, more curious. Still, Toronto played hard. Scottie Barnes checked Kyle, and every possession was a war.

Early first quarter — Kyle caught a lob from Smart, dunked it clean. Crowd clapped. But Barnes answered by backing him down, scoring right over him, yelling in his face.

Kyle smirked. "That all you got?"

Barnes grinned. "We just startin'."

The game turned into a duel. Both young forwards trading buckets, testing each other.

By the fourth, Brad had already subbed out the starters, but Kyle waved him off. "Leave me in."

Brad hesitated, then nodded.

Kyle closed the game — hit a pull-up three, stripped Barnes for a fastbreak dunk, then sealed it with a mid-post turnaround jumper. Celtics win by 6.

Final line: 21 points, 8 rebounds, 3 assists.

Back in the locker room, Tatum gave him a nod. "That's what we need. Cold-blooded."

Kyle just sat back, breathing heavy. He didn't feel cold-blooded. He felt like he was playing for ghosts.

Preseason Game 5– Celtics vs. Nets (Boston)

Home game. TD Garden packed, fans chanting his name.

But this one wasn't smooth.

Mikal Bridges locked him up early, forcing two bad turnovers. Kyle got frustrated, rushed shots, picked up three fouls by halftime.

Brad sat him. "Slow down. They studying you now. Adjust."

Fourth quarter, Kyle found rhythm — hit a corner three, then a tip-in. But overall? Ugly game.

Stat line: 8 points, 6 rebounds, 4 fouls. Celtics lost big.

Crowd still cheered for him, but Kyle walked off tight-jawed. Reporters asked if he was worried about inconsistency. He muttered, "Nah. Just one game."

But deep down, he wondered.

Preseason Finale – Celtics vs. Heat (Miami)

Heat culture. Miami loud, cocky, ready to test the kid. Jimmy Butler checked him on the first possession, smirked. "Let's see if the champ got bite."

Kyle tried to drive. Jimmy ripped him clean. Fastbreak dunk.

Next play, Jimmy backed him down, hit a fadeaway. "Welcome to year two, rook."

But Kyle didn't fold. Third quarter, he exploded — scored 10 straight points, hitting a three, two midrange pull-ups, and a dunk on Bam Adebayo in transition.

Garden crowd wasn't here, but Boston's bench went nuts.

Kyle finished with 24 points, 10 rebounds. Celtics won by 5.

Postgame, reporters swarmed. "Kyle, how's your confidence heading into year two?"

Kyle wiped sweat, stared at them. "Confidence don't matter. Work does."

That night, alone in his Boston apartment, he finally opened the ring box again. Stared at the diamonds, the weight of history.

He slipped it on, clenched his fist. Whispered:

"Preseason's done. No more ghosts. Time to eat."

But in the silence, he wasn't sure if he believed it.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.