A year ago he was driving for DoorDash. Now he's hitting game-winners.
In the desert heat of Las Vegas, the Boston Celtics used the NBA Summer League not merely as a proving ground for prospects, but as a mirror reflecting the full spectrum of human ambition — from a franchise star still nursing a Finals wound to a young man from a small Alabama town becoming the first NBA player his hometown had ever produced. The machinery of professional basketball, often cold and transactional, revealed something warmer in mid-July 2022: that the distance between obscurity and opportunity can sometimes be measured in a single game-winning shot. For every calculated front-office move, like the acquisition of Malcolm Brogdon from Indiana, there exists a more intimate story of someone simply refusing to disappear.
- The sting of the NBA Finals loss to Golden State still lived in Jayson Tatum's chest, even as the franchise was already pivoting toward next season with a major trade for Malcolm Brogdon.
- Boston surrendered six players and a first-round pick to land Brogdon — a calculated gamble that raised the stakes for a team that came so close and now must come closer.
- JD Davidson, the 53rd pick out of Alabama, arrived in Las Vegas with fifteen family members in tow, carrying the weight of a hometown that had never sent anyone to the NBA before him.
- Matt Ryan hit a clutch three-pointer with 0.8 seconds left to beat Milwaukee — and then, limping off the court, became emotional recalling the year he spent delivering food for DoorDash just to survive.
- Even the lighter moments carried meaning: Brogdon's Obama-voice comparison drew genuine laughter, and Grant Williams traded barbs with Bobby Portis in the easy, breathing way that only Summer League allows.
The NBA offseason is supposed to be quiet, but Las Vegas in mid-July told a different story for the Boston Celtics. Sitting at 2-1 in Summer League play, the team was less concerned with the scoreboard than with the larger question of what they were becoming.
Jayson Tatum admitted he thought about the Finals loss to Golden State every single day. Yet around him, the organization was already moving forward. The Celtics had traded six players and a first-round pick to acquire Malcolm Brogdon from Indiana — a steady, intelligent point guard they believed could be the missing piece alongside Tatum and Jaylen Brown. Brogdon's arrival came with an unexpected human touch: a Twitter user noticed he sounded remarkably like Barack Obama, and when asked, Brogdon laughed and confirmed he'd heard it before. It was the kind of moment Summer League makes room for.
The deeper stories, though, belonged to those still fighting for their place. JD Davidson, the Celtics' lone draft pick at 53rd overall, came from Letohatchee, Alabama — a small town that had never produced an NBA player. He brought fifteen family members to Las Vegas to witness the moment, and was already running donut errands for Tatum as part of rookie tradition. Asked if he'd processed becoming an NBA player, Davidson said — a little bit, given that he was already fetching breakfast for one of the league's best.
Matt Ryan's story cut even deeper. With 0.8 seconds left against Milwaukee, he hit a three-pointer to win the game 111-109. Limping off the court afterward, he spoke about where he'd been just a year before: delivering food for DoorDash, driving through cities to make ends meet. The emotion on his face made the distance between those two lives impossible to ignore.
As Boston prepared for its next Summer League game, the picture was clear. The Finals loss still stung, the Brogdon trade carried real risk, and the roster was full of players with everything to prove. But something was being built — and in Las Vegas, you could see exactly what it looked like.
The NBA offseason is supposed to be quiet, a time for rest and recovery. But in Las Vegas, where the Celtics were playing their Summer League games in mid-July, there was plenty to see for anyone paying attention. The team was 2-1 at the halfway point of the tournament, and the story wasn't just about wins and losses—it was about who Boston had become and who they were about to become.
Jayson Tatum was still processing the sting of the Finals loss to Golden State. He told reporters at halftime of a game against Miami that he thought about it every day, that the wound was still fresh. But around him, the machinery of the franchise was already turning toward the future. The Celtics had made a significant move, acquiring Malcolm Brogdon from Indiana in exchange for Daniel Theis, Aaron Nesmith, Malik Fitts, Juwan Morgan, Nik Stauskas, and a 2023 first-round pick. It was a calculated bet that Brogdon, a steady and intelligent point guard, could be the missing piece alongside Tatum and Jaylen Brown.
Brogdon's arrival came with an unexpected detail. During his introductory press conference, a fan on Twitter noted that the new Celtics guard sounded remarkably like former President Barack Obama. The observation caught on, and when asked about it directly, Brogdon laughed and confirmed he'd heard the comparison before. It was the kind of small, human moment that Summer League provides—a reminder that even in the high-stakes world of professional basketball, there's room for levity and genuine connection.
But the most compelling stories belonged to the players fighting for a foothold in the league. JD Davidson, a combo guard from the University of Alabama, was selected 53rd overall—the Celtics' only pick in the draft. He signed a two-way contract and brought fifteen family members to Las Vegas to witness the moment. Davidson came from Letohatchee, Alabama, a small town that had never produced an NBA player before. He was the first. Tatum, already a veteran presence despite his youth, had welcomed Davidson into the fold by assigning him rookie duties—the traditional donut run that every newcomer endures. When asked if he'd processed that he was now an NBA player, Davidson said he'd processed it a little bit, given that he was already running errands for one of the league's best players.
Then there was Matt Ryan, a prospect who hit a clutch three-pointer with 0.8 seconds left to give Boston a 111-109 victory over Milwaukee. After the game, as he limped off the court, Ryan spoke about the arc of his journey. A year earlier, he had been delivering food for DoorDash, driving around cities to make ends meet. Now he was on an NBA roster, hitting game-winners in Summer League. When asked how it felt to see his hard work beginning to pay off, Ryan got emotional. The distance between those two lives—the delivery driver and the basketball player—was suddenly visible in his face.
Grant Williams, meanwhile, was enjoying the lighter side of competition. He walked past Bobby Portis during a game and said something under his breath, hand covering his mouth. Portis, not missing a beat, replied loud enough for everyone to hear: keep that same energy, keep that same energy, we talk loud. It was the kind of friendly trash talk that defines Summer League, where the stakes are low enough to let personalities breathe.
As the Celtics prepared to face Memphis on Thursday, the narrative was clear. Yes, the Finals loss still stung. Yes, the team had given up significant assets to acquire Brogdon. But Boston was building something, and the Summer League was showing what that something looked like: a mix of established talent, promising youth, and the kind of hunger that comes from players who know this might be their only chance.
Citações Notáveis
It takes a long time, I still think about it everyday— Jayson Tatum, on the Finals loss to Golden State
Keep that same energy. Keep that same energy. We talk loud.— Bobby Portis, responding to Grant Williams' trash talk
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does Summer League matter so much? It's just preseason basketball.
Because it's where you see who people actually are when the pressure is off. Tatum's still hurting from the Finals, but he's mentoring a kid from Alabama. That's the culture being built.
Tell me about Davidson. What makes his story different from any other draft pick?
He's the first NBA player from his hometown. Ever. Letohatchee, Alabama—it's not a place that produces professional athletes. He brought fifteen family members to watch. That's not just a contract, that's a community moment.
And Brogdon—the Obama comparison seems like a joke, but is there something deeper there?
It humanizes him. He's a serious player, a real acquisition that cost Boston a lot. But he can laugh at himself, acknowledge the comparison. That matters when you're trying to fit into a locker room.
Matt Ryan's story is the one that gets to people, isn't it?
Because it's real. A year ago he was driving for DoorDash. Now he's hitting game-winners. And he couldn't hide how much it meant—he got emotional talking about it. That's the distance between desperation and opportunity.
Does Summer League actually predict anything about the season?
Not always. But it shows you the character of the organization. How they treat young players, how they integrate new pieces, whether they're building something sustainable. The Celtics are doing that work right now.