He wasn't there when Vin Baker picked up his stuff and left for the last time. He'd already said his goodbyes, knowing the other man wouldn't be back, knowing that nothing else could be done, that it was truly hopeless.

So, another day, another game. Another teammate left behind. Another 20-point loss to bottom-feeding teams that shouldn't even be competition. Paul sits in the stands in the empty Fleet Center staring at the parquet floor, wondering how it all went wrong so quickly, how something that had seemed so close had slipped away. Maybe if the old Garden was still standing it would be different; maybe they'd find their way back again in the house that Auerbach built. Maybe the magic wasn't in this place. Or maybe the magic just wasn't in him.