KYLE WILSON
The call came from Elias Vance, the intense, detail-obsessed Head Coach of the Boston Celtics. His voice was clipped, urgent.
"Kyle. It's Elias. We've got a crisis. Dante Jackson fractured his orbital bone. Out indefinitely. We need a defensive stopper, a wing who can guard multiple positions and hit an open corner three. We're calling up Leon Vance from your roster. The flight leaves Portland in two hours."
Kyle's mind instantly pulled up Leon Vance—a wiry, 6'7" defensive menace with a laser-focused corner jumper. He was the prototype of the modern "3-and-D" wing, a player who had thrived in Maine's system by embracing a starless role. He was the ultimate product of Kyle's philosophy: a player defined by his understanding of team geometry over individual glory.
"He's ready," Kyle affirmed, the professional pride immediate. "He understands spacing, he understands rotations. He won't just guard his man; he'll guard your system."
