Bianchi: It ended in Magic’s monumental meltdown in Game 6; Game 7 loss to Pistons just made it official

Once that narrative took hold, Game 7 felt like a formality.

And it played out exactly that way.

Detroit was confident, composed, and clinical. Cade Cunningham controlled the game with 32 points and 12 assists, continuing the tear he went on once Franz Wagner was no longer there to defend him. Tobias Harris – a name that still echoes uncomfortably in Orlando – poured in 30 points, adding another layer of irony to a franchise that once traded him away for essentially nothing. The Pistons, down 3-1 just days earlier, became just the 15th team in NBA history to complete that kind of comeback.

They earned it.

The Magic unraveled into it.

Paolo Banchero did everything he could to resist the ending. He scored 38 points, attacking relentlessly, carrying the offense the only way he knows how. But we’ve seen this before, haven’t we? Two years ago in Cleveland, another Game 7, another 38-point masterpiece, another loss. The pattern is no longer a coincidence; it’s a concern. The Magic are now 1-7 in playoff games when Banchero scores 30 or more, a statistic that raises uncomfortable questions about everything around him.

Is the supporting cast good enough?

Is the roster too dependent on one player creating everything?

Or is this team simply too fragile – physically and structurally – to sustain success when adversity hits?

Franz Wagner’s absence looms large over all of it. When Wagner was healthy in the first four games, Cunningham was still getting his points, but getting them inefficiently, struggling to find rhythm against Wagner’s length and discipline. Once Wagner went down with a strained calf and missed the final three games, everything flipped. Cunningham averaged more than 36 points over that stretch while shooting 51.6% from the field and 61% from 3-point range.

Injuries are part of the story.

But they’re not the whole story.

Not when you’re up 3-1.

Not when you’re up 24 at home with a chance to close.

Not when the collapse becomes the defining moment.

“It’s frustrating being in the same spot three years in a row and getting the same result,” a somber Banchero said afterward.

When asked if this team is good enough to get to the next level, Banchero didn’t sugarcoat it.

“You know, I want to say yes, but we haven’t been out of the first round,” he replied. “So if you’re going off the last three years, the answer is no. The nice answer would be yes, but honestly, speaking, I can’t say that we’re good enough to be in the Finals or Eastern Conference Finals, because the last three years we’ve had the same result. So that’s your answer.”

Banchero’s words carry weight – not just because he’s the team’s best player, but because he’s the franchise’s future. And make no mistake, his voice will matter in what comes next. As the Magic head into an offseason filled with hard questions, none will be more consequential than the future of head coach Jamahl Mosley. Mosley has navigated injuries, development and expectations, but three straight first-round exits – capped by a collapse of this magnitude – change the conversation.

And Banchero will be at the center of it.

Stars shape organizations, whether it’s said publicly or not. If Banchero believes in Mosley, that belief will carry influence. If he has doubts, those doubts will echo just as loudly. Either way, his perspective won’t just be noted; it will matter.

Sigh.

This wasn’t supposed to be another entry in the same tired narrative of missed opportunities and stalled progress. This was supposed to be the breakthrough; the moment the Magic finally turned the corner after years of rebuilding, retooling and resetting.

“We were right there with a chance to rewrite the story, and we didn’t,” Magic guard Desmond Bane says. “This is a terrible feeling.”

Especially for beleaguered Magic fans, who have suffered through 17 seasons now without seeing their team win a playoff series. Think about how much has changed since the Magic last won a series in 2010; not just in basketball, but in the world. Tik-Tok and Instagram weren’t even around in 2010 – the same year Justin Bieber was emerging as a pop star and Lady Gaga put on her meat dress. And through it all, the Magic have remained stuck in the same endless loop: promise, hope, and ultimately, disappointment.

They’ve cycled through draft picks that didn’t pan out, coaches who didn’t last, and rebuilds that never quite reached completion. There have been moments of optimism, flashes of something sustainable, but nothing that has endured long enough to matter.

And that’s why this one hurts differently.

Because this time, they had control.

They had momentum.

They had opportunity.

And they let it slip away.

You can blame the coach, you can blame the front office or you can blame the supporting cast, but this isn’t about schemes or rotations or a singular decision or breakdown.

It’s about a franchise, haunted by its history, that still hasn’t figured out how to finish when it matters most.

Email me at mbianchi@orlandosentinel.com. Hit me up on social media @BianchiWrites and listen to my radio show “Game On” every weekday from 3 to 6 p.m. on FM 96.9, AM 740 and 969TheGame.com/listen