Date: June 15, 2021

Location: Footprint Center, Phoenix, AZ

Event: NBA Finals – Game 1

Series: Celtics vs. Suns (0–0)

Pregame – The Desert SilenceThe Arizona sun baked the concrete outside the Footprint Center. It was the kind of dry heat that made your lungs beg for shade. But inside the arena, the lights felt just as hot.

Game 1 of the NBA Finals.

Celtics vs. Suns.

Tatum. Brown. Smart. Horford. Rob Williams.

No Kyle Wilson.

Not in uniform, anyway.

He sat in the second row of the bench in Celtics green warmups. His Kyonic slides planted flat. His injured leg propped up discreetly on a cushioned block beneath his seat. No cameras zoomed in on him this time. They had bigger stars to chase.

But the Celtics?

They kept glancing back at him.

Because even without playing a second, Kyle's 52-point masterpiece in the semis was still fresh in their minds. Still carved into their game plans. Still echoing in film rooms.

Ari had taken a private flight from Montego Bay to meet him in Phoenix. She sat quietly in the lower media section. Watching. Always watching.

1st Quarter – No God, Just GritPhoenix came out swinging.

Devin Booker hit a baseline fadeaway on the first possession. Chris Paul found Ayton on the roll for an easy slam the next trip down. The crowd was already at playoff volume.

But Boston wasn't rattled.

Jaylen hit a stepback over Mikal Bridges. Tatum followed with a strong drive, muscling through Booker for the and-one.

"Let's eat early!" Smart yelled, clapping his hands on defense.

Kyle remained still. But inside, every cell in his body was screaming to check in.

He knew Phoenix scouted them heavily. He also knew he was the X-factor they couldn't prepare for anymore.

Because he wasn't part of the equation.

At least, not right now.

End of 1st: Celtics 27 – Suns 26

2nd Quarter – Tension Without ReleaseChris Paul started cooking.

Floaters. Pull-ups. Elbow fades. Vintage CP3. He was methodical, punishing every Celtics switch like a surgeon with a scalpel.

But Boston held ground.

Derrick White checked in and drilled a much-needed three. Al Horford hit a pick-and-pop. Tatum split a double-team and kicked to Brogdon for a corner triple.

But every possession felt tight. Like the Celtics were missing that unpredictable wild card. That slasher. That havoc engine.

They missed Kyle.

And Kyle knew it.

Udoka glanced at him once. A long, quiet glance. Not with frustration. But with empathy.

He knew what Kyle could've brought.

He also knew what Kyle had been through.

Halftime: Suns 54 – Celtics 51

Halftime – The Film Room GhostWhile the players hit the locker room, Kyle stepped into the auxiliary film room.

Not to study. To breathe.

He sat alone, flicking through past Suns games on his tablet.

He wasn't allowed to touch the court, but that didn't mean he couldn't give the team something else.

He noticed a hitch.

Every time Booker drove left, Ayton sagged slightly away from the dunker's spot.

He filed that away. Sent a text to Coach Udoka and the analytics assistant.

Then stood.

And whispered to himself:

"This is how I play now."

3rd Quarter – Momentum's RazorJaylen caught fire.

Euro-step into traffic—bucket.

Steal and slam.

Three from the wing.

He had 11 in the quarter before Booker answered with a nasty sidestep three over Smart.

Ayton cleaned the glass. CP3 kept carving.

But Rob Williams was everywhere. Blocks. Boards. Putbacks.

On the sideline, Kyle shouted rotation tips. Help cues. Shot clock warnings.

He wasn't the player.

But tonight, he was becoming the mind.

End of 3rd: Celtics 80 – Suns 79

4th Quarter – Absence Felt Loudest in the ClutchIt was a war.

Tatum took a hard foul on a drive. Got up slow. Waved off help.

Bridges hit a dagger three off a Booker skip pass.

Smart bulldozed into the lane and got stripped by CP3.

With 2:04 left, Boston trailed 98–94.

Kyle leaned forward, fists clenched. Every inch of his body ached—not from the injury, but from helplessness.

He saw the miscommunication coming.

On the next Suns possession, the Celtics hedged too high on a screen—Booker drove baseline, kicked to Cam Johnson—wide open three.

Bang.

101–94.

The Garden fell silent.

Jaylen scored quickly out of a timeout. Rob Williams forced a turnover. Smart hit a wild floater.

But with 11 seconds left, down three, Boston had one last shot.

No timeouts.

Tatum brought it up. Slipped. Regathered. Shot a contested three over Ayton—

Front iron.

Suns rebound.

Buzzer.

Final: Suns 103 – Celtics 100

Series: Suns lead 1–0

Postgame – The Forgotten FlameReporters swarmed the locker room.

Tatum iced his knees in silence.

Jaylen stared at the floor.

Smart punched a locker.

Kyle stood alone outside the press room. Hoodie up. Crutches tucked under his arm.

Ari joined him quietly.

"You're not just watching this time," she said. "You're in their heads. In their hearts."

He nodded, but his jaw tightened.

"I'm not gonna just be a symbol, Ari," he whispered. "I'm gonna be a player again. They need me out there."

"And if you're not cleared?"

He looked at her. His eyes weren't red. Just razor-sharp.

"Then I'll make damn sure they win without me."

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