Six weeks away from another postseason run, Clint Capela — restricted-area aficionado, resident Swiss Army Knife, and most interesting man in the Toyota Center — has a million things on his mind. Physically, he’s at the south end of the arena, putting the finishing touches on another workout, but mentally he’s God-knows-where.

Jon Lucas, longtime player development coach and free-throw whisperer, watches as Capela goes through his drill, aware of Capela’s anxiety, but more importantly eager to see if he’s fixed the hitch in his shot from the charity stripe. Capela makes the first one. “Nice,” Lucas responds. Then he makes another. Followed by a miss, a miss, a miss and another miss. Lucas shakes his head ever so slightly. If this were a game situation, Mike D’Antoni might’ve taken him out already. Capela knows he can do better — his free-throw percentage, having increased every year, will attest — but expert trainer Irving Roland is waiting patiently. There is still work to be done before the flurry of Boston green graces the arena.

Two hours until tip-off, Capela goes into his last drill with Roland, his muscle memory and footwork joining at the hip. Hakeem Olajuwon will take his seat courtside in about 90 minutes, but for now, he’s the best big man on the floor.

Left, right, jab step, hook shot.

Right, left, jab, pump fake, hook shot.

Up-and-under, fades, swish.

(Photo by Thomas B. Shea-USA TODAY Sports)

He snatches the ball out of the air, spins and slams it home. The man who made “Fashion Copela” a smashing success in Houston’s in-arena entertainment has a very hard time hiding emotions. A smile creeps across his face, familiarity breeding glaring confidence at this point. He moves outside his stomping ground and into the midrange, ready for the finale. Much like a kid learning to ride a bicycle, Capela looks uncomfortable. But this has to be done. After all, Al Horford’s range is well documented, and he was voted in as an All-Star. Capela wasn’t. “It sucked,” he said. “I definitely think I should have been [this year], but I didn’t complain about it. It’s all about the consistency. By just doing the work that I do, for sure I’ll be an All-Star next year.”

He takes the first 17-footer, miss. “Shit!” Capela exclaims. Roland quickly passes the ball to Capela again, miss. Then another miss. But the next one goes in, and for shooters, it’s now a constant loop of a timeless adage — I only need to see one go through. Capela makes the next four in a row, still with that quirky release, but Lucas and Roland know that pesky form will die out with time. For now, they’ll let him revel in his accomplishments.

There’s enough game tape in 29 other team offices to associate Capela with two things: rim-running and shot-blocking. The list of big men who would be content with averaging 13, 10, and 2 might stretch much longer than Capela’s 7-foot, 5-inch wingspan. He wants to be the best center in the league sooner rather than later, so this isn’t good enough.

“Of course,” he thinks on never settling, using the slogan the Houston Astros adopted five months prior that led them to World Series glory. “As a basketball player, I like to do it. Makes me feel good. So yeah, why not? You never say never. You like to expand your game, and I like to expand my game.”

He retreats to the Rockets’ gizmo-filled, analytically driven locker room for a moment, emerging a short while later to find assistant coach and film-study savant Roy Rogers sitting in the second row, iPad in hand. Capela smiles and takes his place among the seats beside Rogers. He knows the drill by now. “You know, what’s interesting with Clint is that we’ve been doing this now for two years,” Rogers says. “It’s not like we just started this yesterday, and he’s developed such a habit and become such a good student that he enjoys studying the game.”

Aside from their usual formal sessions, Rogers likes to add tidbits during their time together, testing the depths of Capela’s retention. He’s amazed at how “the game seems like it’s slowing down because he’s seen these plays so many times,” Rogers adds. “Sometimes, I can just put something in the film session before the game, and he’ll go and execute it during the game. Not many players have that ability to see something on film, and transfer it that night in the game.”

The evening’s pregame nugget showcases the opportunity for Capela to use Horford’s penchant for switching to his advantage and dominate the rebounding battle.

When the dust settles, Horford finishes with a meager six rebounds. Capela has 17, with the Rockets edging past Boston. Rogers was right, and Capela feasted. “Of course it helps, too,” Capela adds on if playing All-Stars gives him an edge. “Going up against guys like that, doing a great job defensively, it just pushes me. Makes me want to run, gives me that little energy that I need to get that opportunity on offense. It’s always exciting playing against All-Stars — of course I have to be more focused and play harder ’cause if you let up, they’ll go off.

Long gone are those rookie dog days. Capela may be climbing the NBA relevance tree, but he’s still aware of his roots. There’s a whole nation of Swiss people behind him. “It’s good to be an inspiration,” Capela remarks. “I came a long way, so every game I just enjoy it. The grind, being an inspiration for the people back home.”

His mother is his rock and biggest supporter, and she supported him and his brothers even after the father left the family home. “It’s good to have them support you,” Capela says of them. “Even if they’re out there and you don’t see them some days, just showing support and love, watch every game, it means a lot to me.”

Back home, halfway across the world, some 5,000 miles away, local artist Stefano Rosselli wakes up later than usual in his Geneva loft. He stretches and rubs his eyes furiously, having attempted to navigate the seven-hour time difference between Switzerland and Texas, ultimately succumbing to sleep right after Game 5’s tip-off. Once he locates his phone, he anxiously scrolls past the slew of soccer and other sports news, until he finds the basketball section. A grin as wide as a fresh baguette appears on his face — there will be a Game 7. “Maybe Clint can become the second Swiss player to reach the Finals, after Thabo, of course,” Rosselli says. He might have watched the highlights five times in a row, the game means that much to him — and to the country as a whole. “The little guy from Geneva,” as Rosselli fondly puts it, has mutated into a towering defensive stalwart.

Rosselli calls upon old stories of the shy, skinny rookie who left all his confidence in Europe and had to pass through the G-League “to build a new, improved iteration of himself.” Now, he sees Capela as mentally, technically and physically stronger.

“I really appreciate his attitude toward difficulties, and that’s why I’m happy for him and what he has been achieving in so short time,” Rosselli mentions. “That’s nice to see someone coming from the same city as me who carries good values and who can inspire other people here in Geneva and elsewhere. I am also happy to see how his teammates and, in general, people there in Houston appreciate this young Swiss boy!”

Clint Capela, the man in the middle, and infamous member of that Rockets stat you’ve heard way too often, is Houstonian by all accounts now. For now, Gerald Green holds the title of Mr. H-Town, but Capela isn’t fighting him for that. Four years ago, when he was drafted late in the first round, there was legitimate cause for concern. After all, 5,262 miles separate Geneva, Switzerland, from Houston, Texas. Pundits saw him as another Euro prospect who would be stashed for cap reasons, likely to never step foot in the country.

There would be an adjustment period, obviously. The weight needed to go up, the diet would change, and most importantly he would experience American basketball. His first year saw him suit up for the Rockets only 12 times, most of the year spent shuttling between the G-League and the NBA. Capela chuckles to himself as he reminisces. “It helped me get used to the game in this country and the pace of it,” he says.

Being a scrawny kid for the most part, Capela knew putting on muscle was always going to be an uphill challenge. It’s hard to look at Capela’s massive frame today and imagine anything different, but getting stronger is something that’s on his everyday agenda. “I’ve been working on that [strength] so it helps,” Capela says. “Of course, getting stronger, more minutes, playing with the same guys helps. I’m just trying to stay engaged. I start off solely to stabilize and utilize to know what I’m doing before every game, what makes me and my body feel good. All of that helps me grow this year.”

When asked about his goal muscle-wise, Capela immediately conjures the name of Dwight Howard. “He was dominating,” he says of Howard’s physique. “He was always taking care of his body. Did his work, and went out there and just dominated. He was huge!”

The two shared a unique relationship, with Capela very fond of the fun-loving Howard. “He was this big man, and I was this big boy,” Capela recalls, unable to keep a stoic expression. For a while, Houston had a nice dynamic going, developing Capela and showcasing Howard, and for a brief moment in time three years ago, the two actually started games together, courtesy of then-head coach J.B Bickerstaff.

(Photo by Bill Baptist/NBAE via Getty Images)

The Powerpuff Girls-esque experiment brought on-court success briefly, but behind the scenes tension was festering between Howard and James Harden, Houston’s budding superstar. The him-or-me situation proposed to upper management ultimately sent Howard packing, but Capela had been oblivious to the whole ordeal, and he doesn’t buy the notion that there was an internal coup to get him the starting gig. “I didn’t know [I would be the starting center] until he [Howard] left so I just did my job,” Capela responds. “Whenever I was given the opportunity I did my best to take it.”

He now understands the importance of communication. Three days after news broke that Chris Paul was taking his talents to Clutch City, Capela did his best to extract every ounce of knowledge he could from him. He already studied tape of Paul’s Clippers tenure and on-court chemistry with DeAndre Jordan, and wanted to know everything — on and off the court. Chris sat him down and they talked for hours, from screen-setting to what kind of food he should be eating.

For what it’s worth, he now has his own personal chef, taking Paul’s advice on diet and regimen for longevity to heart. And basketball-wise, he listened to it all in awe, reminded almost of how President Obama could command a room. “I think he likes it on his right,” Capela says in reference to setting screens for CP3. “Even when they send him left, he has the ability to go back and take my screen and find his way to the right side. This is what we talk about.”

Two days before Game 7, with the Rockets and the city still reeling from the news of Paul’s hamstring, Capela and Harden had a discussion. It came during a light practice and shootaround, something the team hadn’t done in months, but they had to talk. While D’Antoni and the troops congregated at the east end of the practice court, drawing up more plays for Eric Gordon and listening to the wise words of their injured compadre, Capela and Harden were deep in conversation.

For more than half an hour the two stood under the opposite basket, visualizing pick-and-roll scenarios and some way to get through Game 7. It was animated at times, Harden pointing out spots on the floor to Capela where he needed to be, and Capela clarifying things of his own to the MVP. But there was love, Harden being one of Capela’s biggest supporters throughout the year privately and publicly. Such a conversation might have never taken place between Howard and Harden, with both constantly butting heads in a power struggle. Capela knows his place in the Rockets’ ecosystem, and they thrive because of it. “He’s like a leader, everyone knows that,” Capela added. “But he leads by example, and by doing that I’ve seen it and it helps me learn from what he does.”

The question was never if Capela and Houston would strike a deal, it was a matter of when. “We both wanted to get it done, it just takes time,” owner Tilman Fertitta said. “It could have dragged out another month — we didn’t want to do that, Clint didn’t want to do that.” Other members of Houston’s brass expressed no doubt that he would return. “Oh, we’re not worried about stuff like that,” D’Antoni said. On if he ever had concerns about getting the deal across the finish line, Harden simply replied, “Nah.”

With Harden, Paul, and now Capela locked up for the foreseeable future, the Rockets can move forward and focus on Running it Back, the team’s unofficial slogan for the upcoming campaign, concerning a Western Conference Finals rematch with Golden State.

With Capela’s bank account increasing tenfold, the next goal he has for himself naturally, and one point that was likely brought up in negotiations, is more playing time. “Every minute that I play, I have to earn it,” Capela begins before pausing. “Lately I’ve been playing good so I get more minutes. Even when I don’t play as much, Coach [D’Antoni] gets to give opportunities to other guys out there so it’s okay.” For me, I want to be out on the floor during important games, and the close games. I want to be out with them on the court.”

Taking this at face value, you would assume Capela is talking about primetime matchups and postseason play. He’s not. “Every game is important, it doesn’t matter,” he adds. “In the NBA you have to be ready every night.”

He smiles when he thinks of his brief but fruitful NBA career so far, before putting his AirPods back in and getting back in his element. Capela left town as a young kid and opened up his mind and heart to the city of Houston. Now, the city has taken him as one of its own. And when he’s ready, Lucas will be waiting at the free-throw line, and Irv will be watching.

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(Top photo of Capela by Thomas B. Shea-USA TODAY Sports)