Toronto’s decision is about far more than acquiring a star. It is an attempt to reconnect with an identity that has defined the organisation’s most successful era. Leonard arrived in Toronto in 2018 and immediately transformed the team’s ceiling. His defensive versatility, postseason composure and ability to create difficult shots helped the Raptors defeat the Golden State Warriors and win the only championship in franchise history.

Bringing him back carries enormous emotional value, but nostalgia cannot be the only reason for the trade. Leonard is now 35, and the Raptors are paying a substantial price for a player whose availability and long-term durability must be managed carefully. Toronto is sending Brandon Ingram, Gradey Dick, unprotected first-round picks in 2031 and 2033, a 2027 pick swap and two future second-round selections to Los Angeles.

The immediate basketball logic is clear. Leonard gives Toronto an elite two-way forward who can defend multiple positions, absorb difficult assignments and create offence in late-clock situations. His presence should improve the team’s half-court execution, particularly in playoff games where possessions become slower and every defensive mistake is punished. He also gives younger Raptors a proven postseason reference point, something that cannot be replicated through ordinary regular-season experience.

Yet the risk is equally obvious. The Raptors have sacrificed future flexibility for a player whose value will depend heavily on health, workload management and the quality of the roster around him. Ingram is younger and offers offensive production, while Dick represents a developing perimeter asset. The unprotected first-round picks could become especially valuable if Toronto’s current plan fails and Leonard’s physical decline arrives before the team is ready to compete.

The Clippers, meanwhile, are entering a reset with a package designed to extend their competitive timeline. Ingram provides a new scoring option, while Dick adds youth and shooting potential. The draft compensation may be the most important part of the return, although the Clippers’ own punishment complicates the value of those assets. The NBA fined the franchise $30 million, suspended key executives and forced it to forfeit five first-round picks from 2029 through 2033 after determining that salary-cap rules had been violated.

That punishment also explains why the trade became such a major league story. The agreement was reached in June but remained frozen while the investigation continued. Leonard was fined $700,000, but the NBA did not void his contract or suspend him, allowing the transaction to proceed once the league’s findings were announced.

For Toronto, the central question is whether Leonard can create a genuine championship window rather than a brief period of excitement. The franchise must surround him with reliable shooting, secondary playmaking and enough defensive depth to reduce his regular-season workload. If those pieces align, his return could reignite the Raptors’ belief that another deep playoff run is possible.

If they do not, the deal may become a symbol of overpaying for a glorious memory. Toronto has chosen certainty in the present over flexibility in the future. That is a bold decision, but it is also a clear statement: the Raptors believe Kawhi Leonard’s championship influence is worth the risk.

To understand why, it helps to strip away the jargon. The second apron sits roughly $17-18 million above the standard luxury tax line, and crossing it doesn’t just mean a bigger tax bill — high-spending ownership groups have shown they’ll write that check without blinking. The real deterrent is structural. Teams that finish above the second apron lose access to tools that used to be basic front-office infrastructure: they can no longer aggregate multiple players’ salaries in trades, they lose the ability to use previously banked trade exceptions from prior-year moves, and they’re barred entirely from signing any player who gets bought out mid-season if that player’s original salary exceeded the non-taxpayer mid-level exception. For a team trying to add a rotation piece at the trade deadline or patch a roster hole through the buyout market, that last restriction alone can be decisive.

Then there’s the draft capital penalty, which is arguably the sharpest teeth in the entire system. A team that finishes a season above the second apron has its first-round pick seven years into the future automatically frozen and untradeable. If that same franchise spends multiple seasons in second-apron territory over a four-year window, the frozen pick doesn’t just stay frozen — it gets pushed to the very back of the first round, guaranteed the 30th selection regardless of how the team actually performs that season. In other words, competing hard enough today to warrant second-apron spending can quietly cost a franchise premium draft position nearly a decade later, an almost generational trade-off that front offices are only now fully pricing into their planning.

What makes this genuinely tricky for contenders is that the penalties are backward-looking and hard to undo mid-course. A front office can’t simply decide in February that it wants out of second-apron territory; the roster is largely locked in by the trade deadline, and unwinding max-level salary commitments takes years, not months. That reality is pushing several title-contending franchises toward more conservative extension strategies for their own rookie-scale players, since a young star’s incoming max deal can single-handedly push a payroll from first-apron caution into second-apron restriction.

The result is a league where team-building increasingly resembles long-horizon financial planning as much as basketball strategy. Contenders now have to weigh not just whether adding a rotation player wins them a game in March, but whether doing so freezes a draft asset that won’t even convey until the next decade. That’s the quiet, unglamorous cost of today’s superstar-driven roster arms race — and it’s reshaping front-office decision-making far more than any single offseason transaction.

The discussion began with a comparison between Thompson and Hall of Fame shooter Ray Allen. One fan argued that Allen was the superior primary option because he led the Milwaukee Bucks to the 2001 Eastern Conference Finals without another All-Star. The implication was that Allen carried a larger individual burden, while Thompson benefited from playing beside Curry and, later, Durant.

Thompson’s response was direct. He pointed out that he was the second-leading scorer on two Golden State championship teams that did not include Durant—the 2015 and 2022 Warriors—and suggested that leaving a strong team to become the leading scorer on a weaker roster would have allowed him to accumulate what he called “empty stats.” His broader argument was clear: individual numbers are valuable, but postseason success should not be dismissed simply because a player shared the court with other elite talent.

That distinction sits at the heart of Thompson’s legacy. He was never asked to dominate the ball like Allen did in Milwaukee or Seattle. Instead, his value came from the way his presence changed the geometry of the court. Defenses could not leave him open, even when he was not handling the ball, and his ability to defend elite perimeter players allowed Golden State to build lineups around movement, spacing and pressure.

The strongest evidence for Thompson’s ability to shoulder a greater offensive load came during the 2016 playoffs. After Curry dealt with injuries, Thompson became the Warriors’ most consistent scoring threat for long stretches. He finished the postseason with 582 points in 24 games, the highest total of any player in the league. LeBron James was second with 552, while Kyrie Irving finished third with 530.

Thompson referenced that achievement while responding to another critic who claimed no team could reach the playoffs with him as its primary option. “Holy shit I led the 2016 playoffs in points scored you casuals,” he wrote, adding laughing emojis to the message. The response was characteristically blunt, but the statistic behind it is difficult to ignore.

His 2016 run was not simply a product of volume. Thompson averaged 24.3 points per game over 24 playoff contests and produced one of the most memorable individual performances in league history during Game 6 of the Western Conference finals. Against Oklahoma City, he scored 41 points and made 11 three-pointers, helping Golden State overturn a 3–1 series deficit. That performance remains central to the argument that Thompson could become a primary offensive option when circumstances demanded it.

Still, the debate with Allen is not easily settled by one statistic. Allen carried larger offensive responsibilities for much of his career, while Thompson enjoyed greater team success and played a vital two-way role in one of basketball’s defining dynasties. Their careers were shaped by different roles, eras and supporting casts.

Thompson’s comments do not end that conversation, but they do sharpen it. His case is not that he was always the first option. It is that being a second option on championship teams should not be treated as evidence that he lacked first-option ability. The 2016 playoffs, his championship contributions and his defensive impact all suggest a more complicated truth: Klay Thompson may not have chased empty numbers, but he proved he could produce when the Warriors needed him most.

]]> https://www.thesportsroom.org/nba-fans-laugh-at-2k27-ratings-when-90-overall-stops-meaning-anything/ Fri, 21 Aug 2026 09:34:05 +0000 https://www.thesportsroom.org/?p=59203 The release of NBA 2K27’s full Top 100 player ratings has triggered a familiar wave of online outrage, but this year the criticism cuts deeper: fans aren’t just arguing over individual placements, they’re questioning whether the entire 90+ tier still means anything. With Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, Victor Wembanyama, and Nikola Jokić sharing the top spot at 97 overall and a crowded cluster of stars from 96 down to 90, many supporters feel the scale has become so inflated that elite status no longer feels elite.

At the peak, 2K’s 90+ club used to be reserved for clear MVP candidates and perennial All-NBA locks. In 2K27, that group has swelled to include not only established superstars but also younger players coming off breakout seasons, creating a ratings landscape where 13 players sit at 90 or above in the top 20 alone. Anthony Edwards at 95, Cade Cunningham at 94, and a six-way tie at 93 featuring Stephen Curry, Kevin Durant, Kawhi Leonard, Jayson Tatum, Donovan Mitchell, and Karl-Anthony Towns has left fans wondering what exactly separates a 93 from a 97 in practical terms.

The most heated debates center on specific placements that seem to defy both recent performance and career legacy. Cade Cunningham’s 94 overall, one point higher than Curry’s 93, has become a lightning rod for criticism, with many arguing that a 25-year-old coming off his first All-NBA season should not be rated above a two-time MVP who remains a top-five shooter and offensive engine. Similarly, Jokić’s 97 rating is drawing fire from a different angle: if 2K is evaluating based on the most recent season, where he was phenomenal but not at his 2022–23 MVP peak, some fans believe he should be below Wemby and SGA rather than tied with them.

Social media reactions have been blunt. Content creators and long-time players have labeled the official Top 100 “biased,” “inconsistent,” and in some cases “the worst list ever,” arguing that large portions of the rankings “just do not add up.” The joke circulating online is simple: if 90+ is the new normal for any starter on a good team, then the rating system has lost its power to distinguish true hierarchy.

There is a logic to 2K’s approach. The company has stated it tries to balance current-season performance, projected role, and overall skill set when setting ratings, which explains boosts for players like Cunningham after entering the MVP conversation. Yet for fans who view ratings as a reflection of proven impact rather than potential, the result feels like grade inflation: everyone gets a slightly higher number, but the meaning of those numbers gets diluted.

The irony is that 2K27’s top tier is undeniably star-studded. Having SGA, Wemby, Jokić, Luka Dončić, Jalen Brunson, and Giannis Antetokounmpo all at 96–97 makes sense on paper given their recent seasons and two-way influence. But when that same tier sits just a few points above Curry, Durant, Tatum, and Leonard, the gap between “best player in the league” and “very good star” starts to blur.

For a franchise that relies on ratings to drive conversation, engagement, and Ultimate Team economies, some controversy is part of the plan. But when the backlash shifts from “they underrated my guy” to “the whole scale feels broken,” it suggests a deeper credibility problem. Until 2K can convince fans that a 97 truly stands above a 93 in a meaningful way, the joke will keep spreading: in 2K27, 90+ doesn’t mean elite anymore, it just means you made the cut.

The context was brutal. Tasked with chasing Steph Curry for 39 minutes in a high-stakes Game 3, Dellavedova found himself running through a gauntlet of screens set by Andrew Bogut, Draymond Green, and David Lee. He later recalled coming to timeouts with his head “wobbling around” as veterans Mike Miller and James Jones grabbed him by the shoulder and urged him to keep attacking every loose ball. By the time he reached the locker room after Cleveland’s 96–91 win, the adrenaline had worn off and his body began to seize up.

What followed was a scene more akin to an emergency room than a championship celebration. Team staff cut his tights off because the cramps were so intense they couldn’t be pulled down, then tried to rub ice directly onto his legs as his quads and hamstrings locked up simultaneously. Dellavedova described being “in a world of hurt,” unable to stretch one muscle group without aggravating another, before trainers carried him and lowered him into an ice bath up to his waist. He sat there as the cramps slowly eased, only to be told by coach Steve Kerr’s staff and team doctors that his best chance of being ready for Game 4 was an overnight hospital stay for IV rehydration.

ESPN and Cavaliers reports from the time confirm the severity. Dellavedova was diagnosed with severe cramping and dehydration, received an IV in the arena, then was placed on a stretcher, taken by ambulance to the Cleveland Clinic, and admitted for further treatment. He was not released until the following afternoon, but was cleared to play in Game 4, capping one of the most physically punishing individual efforts in recent Finals history.

The story resonates because it lays bare the hidden cost of “glue guy” heroics. Dellavedova was not a star; he was a second-year fill-in for the injured Kyrie Irving, asked to do the unglamorous work of harassing the league’s most dangerous shooter. Yet his willingness to empty the tank—diving on the floor, fighting through screens, playing 39 minutes at Finals intensity—pushed him past normal exhaustion into a medical event.

For fans and analysts, the tale adds a new layer to the 2015 Finals narrative. It is easy to focus on LeBron James’ 40-point night or Curry’s shooting struggles, but Dellavedova’s hospitalization underscores how much defensive pressure Cleveland applied to disrupt Golden State’s rhythm. It also highlights the fine line between legendary effort and physical breakdown in a sport where recovery windows are razor-thin.

Years later, with Bogut now an assistant coach on his Sydney team, Dellavedova can look back on the episode with some distance, but the core memory remains vivid: a young guard who gave everything for one game, then paid for it in ice baths, IV drips, and a midnight ambulance ride. In the lore of the 2015 Finals, that night stands as a testament to what role players will endure when the stakes are highest.

The centerpiece of Durant’s tribute was a revealing anecdote about Westbrook’s legendary work ethic. Durant recalled asking Thunder assistant coach Mo Cheeks whether it was harder to workout before or after practice, noting that by the time he arrived at the gym, Westbrook was already done with his morning session, while Durant typically trained post-practice. Cheeks’ response stuck with Durant: “Coming in before practice is probably harder.” From that moment, Durant adopted Westbrook’s pre-practice routine, a testament to the quiet influence his teammate had on those around him.

“A lot of people looked at the emotions on the court and thought Russ was loud,” Durant wrote. “Nah, to me, he was quiet and methodical. He led by example, and once the lights were bright, he let everything out and experienced pure freedom.” This insight cuts to the heart of what made Westbrook special: the contrast between his controlled, disciplined preparation and the unbridled, emotional release he displayed during games. It was that duality—the methodical grinder in practice, the explosive competitor in games—that inspired teammates and fans alike.

Durant’s tribute extended beyond basketball, acknowledging the shared journey that bonded them: “The first YNs, finals run in our early 20s, All-Star games, seeing each other get injured and bounce back, the bus rides, plane rides, card games, jokes and arguments, the whole thing, memorable!!” These weren’t just teammates—they were brothers who navigated the highs and lows of professional basketball together, from Oklahoma City’s 2012 Finals run to the heartbreak of injuries and the triumph of individual accolades.

Westbrook’s retirement closes the book on one of the most statistically dominant careers in NBA history. The 37-year-old guard leaves the game as the all-time leader in triple-doubles with 209, surpassing Oscar Robertson’s long-standing record of 181. He ranks fifth all-time in assists (10,351), 14th in scoring (27,176 points), and is one of only two players in league history—alongside LeBron James—to record 25,000 points and 10,000 assists. His résumé includes nine All-Star selections, nine All-NBA honors, two scoring titles, three assist crowns, and the 2017 MVP award.

Yet, Durant’s message wasn’t about stats—it was about impact. “It was inspiring as his teammate, and everywhere I went, I seen it inspire people from all walks of life,” he wrote. “Crazy thing is, he didn’t say much, he just showed up. For 18 years.” That’s the essence of Westbrook’s legacy: relentless presence, uncompromising intensity, and a refusal to conform to anyone else’s expectations.

Durant concluded with a heartfelt shoutout to Westbrook’s support system: “To the whole Westbrook family, Nina, the kids, mama Westbrook, big Russ, Ray, Donnell, everybody from Luezinger High and UCLA and many more that I’m forgettin, much love and congratulations on an iconic career.” It was a reminder that behind every great athlete is a community that made it possible.

As Westbrook enters the next chapter, Durant’s words serve as both a eulogy and a benediction: “I don’t care what happens, can’t erase what it was.” The triple-doubles, the MVP, the records—they’re all part of the story, but the real legacy is the inspiration, the work ethic, and the unapologetic authenticity that made Russell Westbrook one of a kind.

The new exhibit, titled Stephen Curry: Beyond the Arc, is scheduled to open in Springfield, Massachusetts, as part of the Hall’s immersive “The Vault” gallery. It is designed as a limited-time showcase and includes memorabilia, archival footage, game-worn items, and multimedia storytelling that traces Curry’s rise from an overlooked prospect to one of the most transformative figures the sport has ever seen.

What makes this honor especially rare is the timing. Curry has not retired, which means this is not a formal Hall of Fame induction, but rather a separate recognition of his impact while he is still active. That distinction matters because the Hall traditionally waits until players are finished competing before considering them for enshrinement. In Curry’s case, the museum is effectively acknowledging that his influence on the game is already too significant to ignore.

Curry’s basketball legacy is impossible to separate from the modern evolution of the NBA. His shooting range changed how teams defend, how offenses are built, and how young players are taught the game. He is widely credited with stretching the floor in ways that forced an entire league to rethink spacing, pace, and shot selection. For many fans and analysts, his presence alone helped reshape the style of basketball seen at every level.

The exhibit also goes beyond on-court achievements. Reports say it was created in partnership with Curry’s Thirty Ink business team and is meant to reflect him not only as a champion, but also as an entrepreneur, philanthropist, and family man. That broader framing turns the exhibit into more than a tribute to points and trophies. It becomes a portrait of an athlete whose reach extends well past the scoreboard.

For the Hall of Fame, this is a landmark decision that opens the door to a new kind of recognition. It suggests the institution is willing to celebrate living legends in a more immediate and immersive way when their influence is already historic. For Curry, it is one more sign that his career has entered rare territory — the kind usually reserved for players whose full stories are told only after retirement.

Whether fans visit for the championships, the highlights, or the cultural impact, the message is clear: Curry’s legacy is no longer something people are waiting to evaluate. It is already part of basketball history.

The clearest sign of that pressure is the way elite names have been moved or pushed toward the market. Giannis Antetokounmpo’s move to Miami gives the Heat a new superstar core, while LeBron James’ departure from the Lakers and entry into unrestricted free agency reflects a franchise recalibrating around the realities of roster cost and flexibility. Jaylen Brown’s trade to Philadelphia for Paul George underlines the same point: even teams that have won with star power are now being forced to decide whether to keep paying for the top of the roster or convert value into depth and draft assets.

That is the real fallout of the second apron. The penalty structure does not just tax spending; it limits roster-building pathways, making it harder to aggregate contracts, sign replacement talent, and maintain a deep bench around multiple max players. In practice, that means contenders can look strong on paper but become fragile in a playoff series when injuries, aging, or matchup problems expose the lack of affordable support pieces.

Boston’s move fits that logic almost perfectly. Brown was still producing at a high level, yet the Celtics chose to turn a premium star into a different premium star plus picks, suggesting that even a title-winning core can be sacrificed if the long-term cost of staying all-in becomes too high. Philadelphia, meanwhile, is betting that Brown can fit beside Joel Embiid and Tyrese Maxey without the same financial squeeze, a gamble that illustrates how quickly the league’s power balance can change when a single star becomes available.

Los Angeles is facing a similar dilemma, though in a different form. With LeBron no longer tied to the Lakers, the franchise is suddenly able to think less about preserving the past and more about redesigning the future. That kind of pivot is often painful in the short term, but the cap environment is making it almost unavoidable for teams that have pushed too far into the expensive end of the tax structure.

The other big storyline is how this new landscape rewards teams willing to accept risk. Miami landing Giannis is the boldest example, because it instantly changes the ceiling of the Eastern Conference and proves that a destination team can still strike at the highest level when the opportunity appears. But the move also came at a cost in players and draft capital, showing that even the most ambitious front offices are now paying for elite talent in multiple currencies, not just dollars.

Then there is the Kawhi Leonard angle in Toronto and the Ja Morant-to-Portland shock factor, both of which point to a broader offseason truth: teams are no longer just choosing between contention and rebuilding, but between controlled risk and total reset. In a league shaped by the second apron, the smartest front offices are trying to avoid being trapped in the middle, where the payroll is huge, the depth is thin, and the flexibility is gone.

]]> https://www.thesportsroom.org/shakeup-summer-how-nba-blockbusters-and-footballs-record-spending-redefined-2026/ Fri, 17 Jul 2026 16:25:36 +0000 https://www.thesportsroom.org/?p=59065 The 2026 offseason has been nothing short of cinematic, with seismic moves in both the NBA and global football transfer market rewriting team hierarchies and fan expectations. From Giannis Antetokounmpo’s long-anticipated departure to Miami to Liverpool’s record-breaking £125 million swoop for Alexander Isak, this summer has delivered drama,野心, and financial audacity in equal measure.olympics+1

In the NBA, the headline story remains Giannis Antetokounmpo’s trade to the Miami Heat, ending a year-long saga that saw the two-time MVP finally leave Milwaukee for a package including Tyler Herro, Jaime Jaquez Jr., and multiple first-round picks. The move instantly transforms Miami into title contenders, pairing Giannis with Bam Adebayo in a defensive juggernaut. Meanwhile, the Los Angeles Lakers, fresh off LeBron James’ departure, pivoted quickly, acquiring Walker Kessler in a sign-and-trade with Utah and swapping Deandre Ayton to Washington for future assets. The Celtics, not to be outdone, sent Jaylen Brown to Philadelphia in exchange for Paul George and a haul of draft capital, signaling a win-now mentality around Jayson Tatum. Other notable moves include Kawhi Leonard’s emotional return to Toronto, LaMelo Ball’s shift to Minnesota, and Ja Morant’s fresh start in Portland — each reshaping conference dynamics.olympics+3

Across the Atlantic, football’s transfer window has shattered spending records, with Premier League clubs alone surpassing £3 billion in outlays. Liverpool led the charge, securing Newcastle striker Alexander Isak for £125 million, a fee that underscores the Premier League’s financial muscle post-World Cup. Tottenham splashed big on midfield, bringing in Sandro Tonali for up to £100 million and Mateus Fernandes for £85 million, while Manchester United opted for value, snagging Youri Tielemans and Andrey Santos at relative bargains. Real Madrid made a quiet killing, adding Denzel Dumfries, Marc Cucurella, and Bernardo Silva on free or low-cost deals, reinforcing their squad without breaking the bank. Elsewhere, Barcelona refreshed their attack with Anthony Gordon, Chelsea invested in wing-back Marco Palestra, and Bayern Munich bolstered their left flank with Nathaniel Brown.espn

What ties these narratives together is a shared urgency: teams are no longer building for the future — they’re buying the present. In the NBA, the convergence of aging superstars and emerging talent has forced franchises to make bold, sometimes desperate, moves to stay relevant. In football, the post-World Cup window has accelerated timelines, with clubs willing to pay premiums for proven performers rather than gamble on prospects. The result is a landscape where parity is increasingly elusive, and financial power dictates competitive balance.olympics+1

Yet, beneath the spectacle lies a cautionary tale. Not every blockbuster will pay dividends — Jaylen Brown’s fit in Philadelphia, Tonali’s consistency in London, or Isak’s adaptation to Liverpool’s system remain question marks. Moreover, the influx of spending raises sustainability concerns, especially in football, where UEFA’s financial fair play regulations loom large. In the NBA, luxury tax penalties and roster flexibility constraints could haunt teams that overextended.olympics+2

As the dust settles, one truth emerges: 2026 will be remembered as the summer when ambition outpaced caution, and when the lines between contender and pretender were redrawn in real time. Whether these gambles yield championships or cautionary tales remains to be seen — but for fans, the ride has never been more exhilarating.

Game 5 was the clearest example of what made this Knicks team so hard to put away. Down by 16 points in the second quarter, they could have let the moment get away from them. Instead, they stayed locked in, tightened up defensively, and trusted Jalen Brunson to take over when the pressure rose. That approach had defined their entire postseason, and it paid off one final time when it mattered most.

Brunson delivered a brilliant 45-point performance in the clincher, attacking the Spurs with confidence and control. His go-ahead jump shot in the closing minutes became the defining basket of the series, a shot that effectively sealed the title and turned the final stretch into a celebration of his leadership. With that performance, he earned unanimous Finals MVP honors, cementing his place in Knicks history and reinforcing his reputation as one of the league’s most reliable big-moment guards.

What made the title run especially impressive was the way New York kept responding to adversity. The Knicks came back from double-digit deficits in all four of their Finals victories, a pattern that says as much about their mentality as it does about their talent. Teams do not survive a Finals run like that by accident. It takes poise under pressure, belief in the game plan, and the kind of discipline that allows a group to stay connected even when the scoreboard is working against them.

The Spurs deserve credit as well. They were young, talented, and fully capable of making the series uncomfortable. But the Knicks brought a different kind of force to the matchup: veteran calm, physical resistance, and a refusal to let momentum define the outcome. In the end, that combination proved enough to separate the champions from the challengers.

For New York, the emotional weight of this title cannot be overstated. Madison Square Garden has waited more than five decades for another NBA championship, and the city has carried that absence through generations of frustration and near-misses. This team finally gave the fan base the payoff it had been chasing for so long. More than just winning a championship, the Knicks restored a sense of possibility to one of basketball’s most demanding markets.

This title will be remembered not just for the trophy, but for how the Knicks earned it. They fought back repeatedly, leaned on their star when it mattered, and turned pressure into fuel all the way through the Finals. That is what made their 2026 run feel historic before the final buzzer even sounded.

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