Date: June 7, 2021

Location: Fiserv Forum, Milwaukee, WI

Event: Eastern Conference Finals, Game 3 – Boston Celtics @ Milwaukee Bucks

Morning – Fiserv Forum WalkthroughMilwaukee was cold. Even in June.

Kyle stepped onto the court hours before the game, crutches hanging from his forearms. The arena was empty except for a few interns rolling out cables and the distant echo of basketballs bouncing.

He made it to the baseline and stopped. Watched the Celtics go through light warmups. Watched Tatum working on his jab series. Watched Jaylen messing around with a one-handed floater.

Udoka approached from behind.

"You here to steal my job yet?" he asked.

Kyle didn't turn. "Not today."

Udoka looked at him closely. "You look like your head's in ten places at once."

"I got a letter. Then records. From back home. About my father."

Udoka's expression didn't change. "You trying to figure out where you came from?"

Kyle nodded.

"Don't forget where you are," the coach said. "This isn't a movie. There's no chosen one. Just men. Choices. You want to honor him? Stay locked in. Help us win."

Kyle met his gaze. "I will."

But in his mind, the letter still lingered.

"Don't follow me, or you'll lose yourself too."

Pre-Game – Locker Room EnergyBoston was all business.

Jaylen had headphones on. Tatum stared at his sneakers, arms crossed. Marcus Smart paced like he wanted to slap someone just to wake up.

Kyle limped in and took a seat beside the whiteboard. His own version of a uniform: Kyonic slides, black warmup jacket, clipboard, and pen.

He tapped the board.

"Jrue's been winning the small battles. Let's trap high on Giannis and cheat the help early on the weakside. Rob stays home on Lopez. Force corner kick-outs, live with it."

Udoka nodded. "Good."

No one questioned it anymore. Kyle wasn't just a voice—they were listening now.

Jaylen bumped him as he stood.

"I'm dropping 30. You writing that down?"

Kyle smiled faintly. "Write it yourself."

Game 3 – First Quarter: Collision CourseMilwaukee started fast. Loud crowd. Lights bright. Giannis attacking immediately.

Spin. Slam.

Holiday stepped into a transition three. Bang.

Kyle scribbled notes furiously. The Celtics looked shaky. Cold from three. Sloppy on screens.

But then came the answer.

Jaylen Brown. Relentless drives. Elbow pull-ups. One-handed dunks in traffic.

Smart took a charge on Giannis. Tatum started cooking on Middleton with that footwork that looked stolen from Kobe.

First quarter score:

Milwaukee 30 – Boston 28

Kyle's notes:

"We're holding ground. Jaylen's eyes different. Trap the baseline corner late in the second."

Second Quarter – Defensive ChessThe game slowed. Became a half-court battle.

Boston tried zone briefly. Didn't work. Giannis ate it alive.

So they went back to their identity—switching everything. Physical on-ball defense. Rotations sharp. Kyle watched like a hawk, murmuring to an assistant coach behind him.

"Next possession—Milwaukee goes high horns. They'll slip Middleton to the weak side."

They did.

Kyle shouted, "Drop! Drop and recover!"

White adjusted mid-play. Intercepted the pass.

Fast break. Slam.

Timeout Bucks.

The bench erupted. Kyle stood, barely realizing it.

Even injured, even in sweats—he was part of it.

Halftime:

Boston 54 – Milwaukee 53

Halftime – Training RoomKyle sat in the back corner of the trainer's room, scrolling through his phone. He pulled up his father's file again. Read the report.

March 2003: Last seen walking toward Pier 17 after leaving a game at the MoBay Rec Center. Witnesses claim he looked "distracted" or "on edge."

Kyle squinted at the grainy image attached. His father had braids. A tattoo on his forearm Kyle had never seen before.

Not a gang sign.

Not a team logo.

Just a phrase:

"Play the mirror."

"Kyle," said a voice at the door.

It was Ari.

She slipped in, holding her phone.

"There's someone trying to reach you. Someone who knew your dad."

Kyle looked up slowly.

"Who?"

She hesitated. "His old teammate. Said they used to call your dad 'the Fixer.' Not Mirage. Said you've only been told half the story."

Kyle set the phone down.

"Not now," he said. "Game's still being played."

Third Quarter – A Game of InchesMilwaukee came out blitzing.

Giannis put Horford on the floor with a spin dunk that shook the rim. Holiday buried another pull-up jumper in Smart's face. The Bucks took a 10-point lead halfway through the quarter.

Boston looked wobbly.

Kyle stood up. Shouted through the noise.

"Don't switch early! Make Giannis make a second move!"

Udoka echoed the same. The team adjusted. Rob Williams got a key block. Tatum hit back-to-back buckets.

Jaylen, though?

He was surgical.

Stepback three. Mid-range. Then a transition poster on Pat Connaughton.

Kyle's clipboard fell out of his lap. He didn't care.

End of the third:

Boston 82 – Milwaukee 80

Fourth Quarter – Fire and SteelThis was war.

Bodies hit the floor. Every rebound fought like a title.

Tatum vs. Middleton.

Jaylen vs. Giannis.

And in the middle of it all, Marcus Smart hitting a clutch three off a broken play that made the bench leap.

Milwaukee responded. Lopez hit a deep two. Holiday got a switch and banked in a tough shot.

Score tied with 1:18 left.

Kyle stood now. No clipboard. Just shouting instructions.

"Don't help off the corner!"

Boston locked in.

Tatum hit a mid-post fadeaway.

Giannis missed a drive—rebound to Horford.

Smart dribbled out the clock.

Final possession. Up two.

Shot clock winding down.

Jaylen stepped back, one leg, hand in face—buried it.

Final: Boston 108 – Milwaukee 104

Series: Celtics lead 2–1

Postgame – Press RoomJaylen spoke first. "This team's got grit. We're not done."

Tatum followed. "We're learning how to win ugly."

A reporter asked: "What's Kyle Wilson's impact from the bench?"

Jaylen grinned. "He's like a second head coach. But angrier."

Laughter followed.

Back in the hallway, Kyle limped toward the bus, headphones on.

Ari walked beside him. Quiet.

"Ready to call that teammate of your dad's?" she asked.

Kyle didn't respond for a long beat.

Then: "Yeah. I think it's time."

Next Day – Hotel Room, MilwaukeeKyle sat by the window as the phone rang.

Once. Twice.

Click.

A gravelly voice answered.

"You Derrick's boy?"

Kyle's heart thudded. "Yeah."

Silence.

Then the voice said:

"Then you better listen close. Your old man didn't just play street ball. He made bets. Big ones. On people. On games. On outcomes. People trusted him to make things happen. Then he disappeared."

Kyle swallowed. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because, kid… someone's looking for you now. Just like they looked for him. Be careful who you trust."

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