The FenrirTech Arena buzzed, sweat and sneakers screeching like a street fight. Second quarter ticked down, and Sloan was a goddamn beast. He snatched his fourth defensive board, muscling out the Hounds' center with a shove that said, This is mine. More than that—he'd clawed two offensive rebounds, each a gut-punch to the Hounds' defense.
First one: Ryan trailed like a shadow, caught Sloan's tip-out, and exploded for a two-hand slam that made the rim cry.
Second one: Sloan battled under the glass, tipped it to Lin in the corner. Lin, eyes locked, drained a three, the net snapping like a whip.
These weren't cheap boards. First quarter? Roarers hadn't grabbed a single offensive rebound—Hounds owned the paint. But Sloan? He was rewriting the script.
Halftime. Roarers 56, Hounds 52.
