CHAPTER 94: CHAPTER 94 :THE ZONE

The second half tipped off, and in a rare move, Coach Lemoine gave his Eclipse starters a proper rest—four to five minutes each. He was clearly saving their legs for a full-throttle fourth quarter.

By the end of the third, the Eclipse led 91-84 over the Roarers.

The fourth quarter opened with both teams reloaded, starters back on the floor, ready to slug it out.

The Eclipse had the ball first. Jalyn Bryson, as usual, worked the clock, dribbling for a good 15 seconds before stepping back beyond the arc and launching a three.

It clanged off the rim.

Ryan was right there, snagging the board and igniting the break like he’d strapped on rockets.

The Roarers flew downcourt, catching the Eclipse’s defense still scrambling.

Ryan zipped a pass to Darius, who glided in for an easy layup.

Coach Lemoine stormed the sideline, arms flailing.

"Transition! You’ve gotta sprint back on D! How many damn times do I have to say it?!"

The Eclipse starters, stung by the yelling, came down the court with fire. They ran a crisp set, and Bryson scored on a smooth layup to answer.

The Roarers answered with a set of their own. Ryan orchestrated from the top of the key, directing traffic. His teammates ran a slick elevator-door play, springing Darius free beyond the arc.

Ryan hit him with a hand-off pass, and Darius, shielded by double screens, rose up and buried a three.

Swish.

93-89, Eclipse.

Eclipse didn’t flinch. Bryson called for a high screen from their big man, Kael Toles. Ryan fought over the top, but Bryson slashed into the lane, drawing help. Just as the defense collapsed, he kicked it back to Toles.

Malik slid over to cut off a lob or drive, but Toles, in a flash, dribbled out to the three-point line and let it fly.

Swish.

Money.

Kael Toles was a beast—an offensive juggernaut, second only among ABA centers in scoring. This season, he was putting up 25.1 points and 13.8 boards a game.

The guy was the Eclipse’s go-to screener, deadly rolling to the rim for lobs or popping out for threes.

His 45.7% clip from deep, averaging 2.4 makes a game, was a nightmare for defenses.

Problem was, his defense was straight-up atrocious. No instincts, no help awareness. A guard with bad D can be hidden, but a center? You’re cooked.

And to make matters worse, Bryson also needed protection.

That’s why the Eclipse had the worst defensive rating in the ABA.

Their offense, though, was why they sat third in the East.

Roarers’ ball. Ryan used a screen to blow into the paint, rising for a one-handed slam that shook the rim.

96-91, five-point game.

Ryan’s drives were a problem, and Coach Lemoine had seen enough.

He barked at his forward on the sideline: "Double Ryan!"

The Eclipse tightened up, throwing two bodies at Ryan every time he touched the ball. That left gaps elsewhere.

Ryan read it instantly, firing a pass to Darius at the top of the key. Darius caught it and pulled up without hesitation.

Swish.

Another three.

What followed was a straight-up firefight. Bryson and Toles carved up the Roarers’ defense with lethal pick-and-rolls, shredding gaps like paper.

On the other end, Darius was a ghost, slipping through screens, running off-ball like a man possessed.

When Ryan broke through the double team, Darius played off the ball, constantly curling around screens.

But when Ryan got trapped, Darius stepped up to take the reins, initiating the offense himself.

Every time he got a sliver of daylight, he let it fly.

And every time he shot, it went in.

In basketball, there’s a magic moment when a player locks into a different plane—a personal realm where no one can touch them. Call it "the zone."

Every hooper knows it: that game where your hand’s so hot, every shot feels destined.

Fadeaways, contested threes, off-balance prayers—they all drop.

Kobe once explained in an interview what being in the zone really means.

In Ryan’s old world, NBA legends like Jordan, LeBron, and Kobe lived in that space.

And of course, legends like:

Klay Thompson: 13-for-13 in one quarter, including 9 threes and 37 points—a single-quarter NBA record.

Tracy McGrady: 13 points in 35 seconds to shock the Spurs, now remembered as "T-Mac Time"—a moment basketball history will never forget.

Now?

Darius was in that zone.

He wasn’t just hot—he was possessed.

Catch-and-shoot three.

Step-back three.

Pull-up midrange.

Fadeaway jumper.

7-for-7 to start the fourth, including three from deep.

17 points in the quarter.

And counting.

The Roarers bench was losing it.

And the Eclipse?

They were watching the storm roll in.

And they couldn’t stop it.

With 5:57 left, the scoreboard read Eclipse 112, Roarers 113. The Roarers had just snatched a one-point lead. Coach Lemoine burned a timeout, his face a mask of urgency.

Timeout over, both teams stuck with their lineups, but Lemoine tweaked his game plan.

No more doubling Ryan—instead, the Eclipse shifted their focus to smothering Darius, the Roarers’ red-hot spark plug. Big mistake. Ryan went to work, attacking the rim relentlessly, carving through defenders for layups.

Coach Crawford, pacing the sideline, allowed himself a sly grin. His backcourt duo—Ryan and Darius—was clicking like a well-oiled machine. Give them a few more games to gel, and they’d be a nightmare for the entire ABA.

The Eclipse’s five starters, each logging around 35 minutes, were gassing out. Their legs couldn’t keep up with Ryan’s relentless drives.

And it wasn’t just Ryan’s scoring—his vision was lethal. He found Gibson, the quiet vet, wide open in the left corner.

Gibson, often ignored by defenses, drained a three. The Eclipse always left him as the last priority on help D.

On the right, Ryan hit Darius in the corner for another triple. The Eclipse’s small forward was glued to Darius, leaving only a sliver of space. Most players wouldn’t even think to shoot.

Darius? He rose up, fired over the outstretched hand, and splashed it. Untouchable.

Four minutes ticked by, and the Roarers stretched their lead. Eclipse’s possession ended with Bryson clanking a three.

Toles and Malik battled under the rim, a gritty wrestling match.

Toles muscled up the board and threw down a putback dunk, clawing back two points. Eclipse 120, Roarers 127.

Coach Crawford called a timeout, ready to make a bold move. In the huddle, he pulled Malik and Gibson, subbing in Stanley and Sloan for the closing stretch. It wasn’t about doubting the veterans—Malik and Gibson just didn’t have the stamina to finish a full quarter, and with a seven-point cushion, Crawford was playing the long game.

He locked eyes with Stanley. "Stick to Bryson like glue."

Stanley’s minutes had dipped lately, but Crawford still trusted his pesky defense. Stanley nodded, all business.

Then to Sloan: "Own the defensive glass." Sloan glanced at Toles on the Eclipse bench—the league’s rebounding king this season—and cracked a grin. "I’m snatching offensive boards too."

The buzzer sounded, and both teams hit the court. No surprise—Lemoine kept his five starters in, no subs.

Roarers’ ball. Ryan ran the point, calling out Bryson for a switch and blowing by him into the paint.

The Eclipse collapsed, treating Ryan like public enemy number one. But Darius, weaving through off-ball screens, popped open at the top of the key. Ryan fired the pass. Darius caught and shot without a second thought.

Clang.

His first miss of the fourth after a perfect 9-for-9.

Toles eyed the rebound, ready to leap, but Sloan was a step quicker, soaring to snatch it. Toles blocked Sloan’s path for a putback, arms high. Sloan, unfazed, spotted Darius still at the arc and whipped the ball back. Darius didn’t hesitate, shrugging off the miss and letting it fly again.

Swish.

Eclipse 120, Roarers 130.

With 1:39 left, the Eclipse trailed by 10. The game was slipping away. The UmbraTech crowd, once roaring, grew quiet, their cheers fading into anxious murmurs as the Roarers closed in on the upset.

Eclipse’s ball. Bryson squared up against Stanley’s suffocating defense, the Roarers’ pitbull hounding his every move. Bryson tried to shake him with a quick crossover, but his legs, heavy after 37 minutes on the court, betrayed him. On a fresh day, he’d dance past Stanley without breaking a sweat, but not now—his burst was gone. He worked the ball for a good 15 seconds, probing, then called for Toles to set a screen.

Toles planted a brick-wall pick, stonewalling Stanley. Bryson seized the gap, darting into the paint. But Stanley, a master at fighting through screens, slipped around Toles like a ghost, chasing Bryson down and lunging for the ball. Caught off guard, Bryson bobbled it—Stanley’s quick hands poked it free. Darius pounced, scooping up the loose ball and blazing downcourt for an uncontested layup.

Eclipse 120, Roarers 132.

Clock frozen at 1:14.

The Eclipse’s comeback hopes were all but dead. Still, Coach Lemoine wasn’t waving the white flag. He called a timeout, scribbling plays on his clipboard, but kept his weary starters in—no subs. Crawford, on the other sideline, didn’t bother changing his lineup either. He just leaned into his starters, voice calm but firm: "Don’t let up. Finish this."

Timeout over, the game resumed. But the writing was on the wall. The Eclipse, gassed and out of answers, couldn’t close the gap.

Final score: Eclipse 125, Roarers 136.

The Roarers walked away with the upset, a hard-fought road win in the heart of Orvara.