The air in the United Center for Game 4 was thick with a strange, conflicting energy. It was part funeral dirge, part last stand. Chicago fans, a proud and passionate bunch, knew the odds were astronomically against them. No team in NBA history had ever come back from a 3-0 deficit. Yet, there was a defiant hope, a belief that their team, backed into the ultimate corner, would at least go down swinging. For the Boston Celtics, the atmosphere was a minefield of complacency. The hardest part was over. The temptation to relax, to already be thinking about the second round, was a silent enemy in every huddle.

Brad Stevens addressed it head-on in the pre-game locker room. He didn't talk about X's and O's. He talked about mentality.

"The most dangerous team is a team with nothing to lose," he said, his eyes scanning the room, lingering on each player. "They will throw caution to the wind. They will take crazy shots. They will play with a desperation we can't possibly match. Our job is not to match their desperation. Our job is to impose our will. Our job is to be the smarter, tougher, more disciplined team for one more night. We step on their throats tonight. We do not give them life. We do not bring this back to Boston. This ends. Tonight."

The message was received. The Celtics took the court with a cold, businesslike focus.

The first quarter was a testament to that focus. The Bulls, as predicted, came out in a frenzy. They were hyper-aggressive, jumping passing lanes, selling out for steals. But the Celtics didn't force the issue. They were patient. They moved the ball with crisp, precise passes, exploiting the over-aggression. When the Bulls doubled, the Celtics swung the ball to the open man.

Kyle Wilson was the beneficiary. The Bulls, still wary of his fourth-quarter explosion in Game 2, were caught in a dilemma. They couldn't help off him too much, which opened driving lanes for Tatum and Brown.

*Play 1:* Early in the first, Tatum drew a double team in the post. He immediately fired a skip pass to Kyle on the weak side wing. Kyle caught it, pump-faked, sending his closing defender flying past, took one dribble in, and drained a smooth 18-foot jumper. It was a simple, efficient play. A professional's play.

The Celtics led by eight after the first quarter. The Bulls' initial desperate energy had been absorbed and neutralized by Boston's poise.

The second quarter was when the execution became a dissection. The Celtics' defense was a thing of beauty, a perfectly synchronized machine. Their communication was constant, a chorus of calls and warnings.

*Play 2:* Zach LaVine came off a pindown screen, looking for a sliver of space for his lightning-quick release. But Kyle fought over the screen, and simultaneously, Al Horford showed just enough to slow LaVine's progress for a split second. That was all Kyle needed to recover. LaVine, off-rhythm, passed the ball. The possession ended with a contested, late-clock heave from DeRozan that missed badly.

The Bulls' frustration began to show. They argued calls. They took quick, bad shots. The Celtics, meanwhile, were a model of efficiency. The lead grew to sixteen by halftime.

The locker room at half was quiet, focused. There was no celebration. There was only the recognition of a job half-finished.

"Twenty-four more minutes," Smart said, his voice a low growl. "That's it. No let-up. No messing around. We break them in the third."

The third quarter was a masterclass in closing out a series. It started with defense, as it always did. The Celtics unleashed a full-court press, not to create turnovers necessarily, but to drain the shot clock, to exhaust the already demoralized Bulls.

*Play 3:* With the lead at eighteen, Kyle provided the exclamation point. Derrick White deflected a pass at mid-court. The ball squirted loose. Kyle and DeMar DeRozan dove for it. Kyle got there first, scooping the ball with one hand. In one fluid motion, while still on the move, he took two long strides and exploded from just inside the free-throw line, soaring over the retreating Nikola Vucevic for a monstrous one-handed slam.

The dunk was vicious, final. It sucked the last remaining hope out of the building. The Celtics' bench erupted, towels waving. On the court, Kyle didn't scream. He simply landed, turned, and jogged back on defense, his face a mask of cold determination. The message was sent: This is over.

The lead ballooned to thirty by the end of the third quarter. The fourth quarter was a formality. The starters got an early rest, watching the final minutes of the series from the bench. The buzzer sounded. A 115-89 victory. A sweep.

The handshakes at mid-court were quick, perfunctory. The Bulls were defeated, broken. The Celtics were already moving on.

In the locker room, there were handshakes and backslaps, but no champagne. That was saved for much later rounds. This was simply the first step. The mood was one of satisfaction, not celebration.

Kyle finished with a team-high 24 points on an efficient 9-of-14 shooting, adding 7 rebounds and 5 assists. He had been a model of consistency and two-way force throughout the series. As he iced his knees, he scrolled through his phone, not to look at his own stats, but to check the other scores around the league.

The landscape was shifting. In Milwaukee, the Heat had just taken a shocking 3-1 lead over the Bucks. Giannis was battling a calf strain, and Miami's culture of toughness was proving too much. The number two seed was on the brink of a monumental upset.

In Philadelphia, the Knicks had evened their series 2-2 with the Sixers in a brutal, triple-overtime war of attrition. Both teams looked physically spent.

The West was just as chaotic. Denver was rolling, but OKC had a surprising 3-1 lead over Sacramento, and the Clippers-Mavericks series was tied 2-2.

The path was opening up, but new, perhaps more dangerous challenges were emerging. The first round was over. The real fight was just beginning. The closeout was complete. The Celtics had handled their business with ruthless efficiency. Now, they waited. They rested. They prepared. The second round was coming, and it promised to be a bloodbath.

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