The next day, the whole team had lunch together at the hotel, then gathered for a film session.
The team had booked one of the hotel's smaller conference rooms—projector, whiteboard, rows of chairs, the works, curtains drawn tight, the cold glow of the screen washing over every face.
The focus of the session: breaking down their last meeting with the Tigers.
That game had been a foul-fest. Crawford rolled the footage back frame by frame, stopping again and again on the same handful of moments—the Tigers' twin towers walling off the paint, so that any time the Roarers tried to drive, they got either swatted or bodied; and on the other end, Shael had taken foul-baiting to an art form, selling flops, initiating off-ball contact, deliberately throwing himself off balance into defenders on his drives, sending Roarer after Roarer into foul trouble while he strolled to the line and racked up points one freebie at a time.
