"...Malik wins the tip," Mad Dog picked up, "and let's see what the Roarers do with their first look."
Ryan had the ball. One dribble to settle the rhythm, and he was over halfcourt—a glance to the weak side first. LaVonte was on Darius. Not on him. Good.
Ryan's eyes came back. Just past the arc, Herring waited.
He jabbed right, testing the lane—Herring slid over to cut it off. The opening Ryan wanted was the one he gave up taking it. The instant Herring's weight committed, Ryan snapped the ball back across his body and slipped through on the left, a step into the lane before the recovery could come.
Help came sliding off the weak side—LaVonte. Ryan didn't drive into him. He gathered, pivoted off his hip, and lofted the ball high over the rising arm, soft off his fingertips.
It kissed off the glass and dropped through. Good.
2–0.
Iron Vault erupted. The whole building came up off its seats, roaring for the bucket.
Mason: "There it is—Ryan pries open the first crack!"
