CHAPTER 30: CHAPTER 30 :LEBRON–WADE CONNECTION? NOW IT WAS MY TURN TO LIVE IT

The broadcast replay revealed what the officials missed - Darius’ subtle shove after Ryan’s missed three.

"A tense moment between those two," noted play-by-play announcer Richard Mason. "Darius wasn’t happy about that shot selection."

"Wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten physical with teammates," added color analyst David Wilson. "But credit to Ryan for keeping his cool."

"True. But let’s be honest—Ryan’s 0 for 3 from deep today. Maybe Darius has a point."

Coming out of the timeout, the Boulders had clearly made some adjustments.

The game didn’t flip like some expected. The Roarers rode momentum, but they didn’t blow the doors off. The lead didn’t vanish in a blink.

Defensively, they stayed aggressive. Switch-heavy, full-court pressure, choking the passing lanes and denying any easy rhythm. But it came at a price. The margin for error was razor-thin. Every time Axton got downhill and bullied his way to the rim, the Roarers had no answer. No rim protection. No help-side length. Just five undersized guys scrambling—and bleeding points for it. That’s the tradeoff with a five-out lineup: speed and spacing, in exchange for size and security.

Yet on the Roarers’ offensive end? The court became a fireworks display.

Lin caught fire first—a catch-and-shoot three from the left wing, net barely rippling.

Then Kamara, curling off a pindown screen, rose up for a fading three-pointer as casually as a free throw.

Darius followed with a stepback over his defender’s outstretched hand, the ball arcing high before dropping through the cylinder with surgical precision. Even Stanley, the energizer off the bench, drained a corner three while getting fouled, roaring as he pounded his chest. The entire roster was cooking, the ball zipping around the perimeter with mesmerizing rhythm.

Everyone except Ryan.

When four out of five players demand defensive attention beyond the arc, the court stretches to breaking point. Darius and Ryan exploited this with brutal efficiency—blistering hand-off actions at the top of the key. As Ryan accepted the dribble transfer, defenders faced an impossible calculus:

Help inside to stop the drive? Darius would flare to the wing, receiving the kickout for an open three. Stay attached to shooters? Ryan lowered his shoulder and exploded downhill, finishing with a two-handed slam that shook the backboard.

The Boulders’ coaching staff screamed adjustments from the sideline, but their players moved through quicksand. Every defensive rotation arrived a half-step late, every closeout a fraction too soft.

There were no right choices—only varying degrees of failure.

A botched switch led to an open three. Overhelping created dunk opportunities. The Boulders’ defense, once sturdy, now resembled a sandcastle against the tide.

And with every possession, the shot clock bleeding precious seconds, their desperation grew palpable. The Roarers weren’t just scoring—they were dismantling. Each basket chipped away at the Boulders’ resolve, each defensive breakdown fueling the Roarers’ swagger.

The Roarers had weaponized spacing, turned gravity against their opponents, and in doing so, exposed the cruel beauty of modern basketball:

When everyone can shoot, nobody can breathe.

The clock ticked down—three minutes left.

104–103. The Roarers trailed by one.

In that stretch, Ryan had already slashed his way to the rim three times, finishing two of them for four crucial points. Now sitting at nine for the night, he wasn’t lighting up the box score, but he was grinding.

Then came another Boulders possession.

Pressure swarmed from every Roarer on the floor—tight, physical, relentless. The Boulders looked rushed, uneasy.

One hasty swing pass.

Ryan read it like an open book.

He exploded into the passing lane, long arms snatching the ball mid-flight.

Another turnover. Another chance.

Ryan picked off the pass and took off in a full sprint, Darius trailing right behind, eyes scanning, ready to clean up if things went south.

A lone defender scrambled backward, eyes darting between them - textbook 2-on-1 fastbreak.

Ryan could’ve gone up for the easy layup—scoring double digits if he did. But as he neared the rim, a thought sparked.

Those iconic NBA highlights flashed in his mind—the Westbrook–Durant connection, LeBron and Wade’s two-man game, Kobe and Shaq’s chemistry.

The no-look passes. The alley-oop finishes.

Why not try it?

He knew Darius was right behind him—he didn’t even need to look.

Without breaking stride, he wrist-snapped the ball hard against the backboard - not aiming for a make, but creating a perfect carom.

Off-the-backboard pass!

Darius’ brain short-circuited for a nanosecond - since when do we do this?! - before his body reacted. Planting hard, he elevated like a surface-to-air missile, meeting the rebound at its apex with one outstretched hand.

In that electric instant, Ryan didn’t look back. Didn’t slow down.

He spread his arms wide and ran straight toward the baseline cameras, eyes locked on the lens.

He was channeling Wade.

This was the Wade–LeBron connection. One of the most iconic images in NBA history: Wade posing, arms outstretched, as LeBron soared in for the finish behind him.

Sure, Ryan’s idol was Westbrook.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t love the legends, couldn’t obsess over those timeless highlights.

He’d watched this clip thirty times at least. Maybe fifty. No exaggeration.

And now?

Now it was his turn to live it.

WHAM!

The rim shook as Darius posterized the backboard, slamming the ricochet through the net with vicious authority.

And the announcer could barely contain himself—

Play-by-play announcer Richard Mason:

"RYAN AND DARIUS CONNECTION! OFF-THE-BACKBOARD PASS! OH MY GOODNESS!"

Color analyst David Wilson:

"That’s the play of the game—no, scratch that, play of the week!"

The whistle shrieked. Boulders called timeout.

Score: 105–104.

Roarers had clawed ahead with 2:38 left.

Darius jogged over to Ryan, a grin tugging at his face, and he slapped Ryan’s palm.

"Yo, next time you wanna pull that kinda highlight shit, maybe give me a heads-up first? I nearly froze out there."

"Next time?" Ryan grinned. "How about you throw it up, and let me do the honors?"

"Bet," Darius said, raising a fist. Ryan bumped it without missing a beat.

Side by side, they walked back to the bench.

Whatever tension had simmered earlier? Gone—like sweat vanishing on a hot hardwood floor.