The whistle blew for the timeout, and the Roarers pulled back to the bench.
Crawford didn't waste a word. He stood the board up in the middle, tip of the marker already on it.
"They're up one—odds are they won't milk it, they'll want a bucket to put us away. But however they run it, there's only one thing we want out of this: the ball back."
His marker circled Store first.
"It'll most likely start in Store's hands, pick-and-roll the likeliest look. If the screen comes—we don't switch." He paused. "Malik, get ready to hedge. Show hard, steer him toward the sideline, don't let him come downhill through the middle nice and easy. Once you've shown, recover—don't hang out there too long, I don't want the rim sitting empty."
The marker slid to the ball side.
"Sloan, fight over. Stay on his hip. The two of you funnel him toward that sideline—make it as miserable as you can."
He tapped the weak side next.
