The buzzer had gone quiet a while back, but the noise from the crowd still echoed through the tunnels under the arena like distant thunder. Blacklist walked together toward their locker room, not rushing, talking over each other with nervous energy.
Jaz was laughing about one of Nash's wild passes, Alicia kept thinking about the three-pointers she had missed, Nia waved her hands in front of her, checking her body for the third quarter. Only Mac stayed silent at the back, his face twisted like he knew this game was going the same way it always did: badly.
Nash trailed behind, walking slower than the others.
His legs felt like wet noodles. The Zone state rebound always drained him, but this time it hit harder, like his bones were stuffed with wet sand. Sweat still rolled down his chest and back. His vision narrowed at the edges, tunneling.
