PHILADELPHIA — He looked utterly alone.
Two hours before tip-off, in the glass and granite arena that is the home of the Philadelphia 76ers, the first pick in last summer’s N.B.A. draft struggled with the part of his game that has mysteriously gone missing. His jump shot.
Markelle Fultz, a moon-faced teenager in a black hoodie and black shorts, was careful not to shoot from too great a distance. He dribbled, spun and gathered himself. The gym, still empty of fans, was quiet as a grave. He lifted the basketball a foot from his forehead.
He drew in a breath.