"Three on attack, four on defense. That's the biggest issue when you're tryna guard Zhao Dong."
During the CCTV live broadcast, Zhang Heli was hyped. "Kemp's got that freak athleticism and guard-like speed to match Zhao Dong, but can he really clamp down on Zhao from the outside? I don't think so. His D just ain't built like that. And how's Cleveland supposed to help on D in a straight-up iso set?"
Right then, Zhao Dong made his move.
He bent down, pulled the rock up, and took one explosive step forward.
"Squeak!"
That sharp sneaker grind echoed as Zhao Dong blew past Shawn Kemp on the right like he wasn't even there, heading straight to the wing.
"Damn, that first step!"
"Yo, that was lightning fast!"
Commentators from both CCTV and NBC couldn't help but shout out.
Kemp tried turning to chase, but Zhao was already two steps ahead—left dude in the dust.
Three weak-side Cavs dropped back in a panic, but Zhao was a damn freight train, like a Hummer crashing through traffic, hitting the paint before they could react.
Big Ben was down low, setting a screen with Big Z.
Big Z saw Zhao barreling toward him—dude got shook. He wasn't built for that kind of contact, and with Wallace pinning him down, he backed away from the rim like, "Nope."
"BANG!"
Zhao Dong rocked the rim with a one-handed tomahawk jam that silenced the whole Gund Arena. The rim blast? Straight-up violent.
"Kemp! You messed up, bro! You know that, right?"
Zhao shouted as Kemp jogged in, late and looking lost.
"Messed up? What you mean? I passed my drug test, you ain't about to throw dirt on me." Kemp barked back instinctively.
Zhao smirked, voice dripping with disrespect. "Your crime? You had the nerve to come at me. I'mma wreck the Cavs tonight and show you what happens when you test me."
"Keep dreamin', bro!" Kemp growled, but it lacked bite.
"Yo, good dogs don't block traffic—MOVE!"
Zhao threw an elbow into Kemp's chest and jogged back downcourt. Kemp stumbled back, barely keeping his balance. Anyone else would've swung on that, but all he could do was hang his head and trail behind—didn't even bother flopping to the ref.
Cavs on the attack. Brevin Knight brought it up, Billups locked in on D.
"Yo Chauncey! Clamp his ass! Bite down like a mad dog, don't let him breathe!"
Zhao was barking orders from under the basket like he ran the whole damn court.
Billups perked up like someone just gave him permission to go wild. Truth be told, he always thought Zhao didn't give a fuck to him—dude barely spoke to him or even noticed him during games. So, when Zhao gave the greenlight, Billups turned savage real quick.
His matchup? Brevin Knight, also a rookie, taken 16th last year. Billups was picked 3rd, but Knight was the better playmaker—8.2 dimes a game versus Billups' 4.3. So yeah, Chauncey wasn't exactly feeling confident.
Knight saw Billups coming hard, so he stepped back, keeping calm, dodging the pressure.
He spotted an opening—Zhao was distracted, yelling instructions—and Kemp was cutting backdoor. He lobbed it up high.
Ball was in the air. Kemp's eyes lit up—dude caught it clean with two hands and went up strong.
"Nah, get that sh*t outta here!"
Zhao Dong flew in outta nowhere, spiked the ball clean off Kemp's hands, and bulldozed him back down to earth.
"BANG!"
Kemp crashed to the hardwood like a sack of bricks. Ball still in his hands. Took a few stumbles before face-planting with a loud thud.
Whistle blew.
Ref pointed the other way—travel on Kemp.
"HELL YEAH! That's two chase-downs for Zhao Dong on Shawn Kemp—dude's in for a rough night!"
Marv Albert yelled into the mic.
"That's what he gets for running his mouth," Matt Goukas chimed in.
Under the basket, Zhao stood tall over Kemp:
"Yo, Kemp. This paint? It's mine too. Don't forget it. Tonight, I run this shit"
"Ain't happening!" Kemp snapped, frustrated as hell.
Knicks ball.
This time, Zhao didn't chill at the three-point line. He posted up on the left block, ready to cook.
Big Ben stayed under the rim, Billups up top, Oakley and Allan Houston spread on the weak side. Knicks ran the same play—clear-out for Zhao.
Since Oakley didn't do low-post work, he stayed out. Big Z tried to cover him but had to switch when Kemp slid over, leaving Big Z to take Zhao.
Billups had one job—feed Zhao and get out the damn way.
Zhao caught it. Big Z, knowing his speed, sagged off half a step. Zhao could've pulled up, banked it in easy. But nah—he wanted blood.
"Bang!"
He sold the back-down, made Big Z shift his weight, then spun hard baseline.
Big Z tried to keep up, but the dude's 7'3". Mobility? Nah.
"Fwoosh!"
Zhao hit the jets, zoomed past Big Z and hit the lane.
Kemp dropped back to help, but Zhao was already in the air.
"BOOM!"
He twisted mid-air, dodged Kemp's block attempt, and flushed it through the net—full body slam. Collided with Kemp mid-dunk.
"WHAM!"
Kemp hit the ground like he got shot. Crowd gasped.
"OH MY GOD! Zhao Dong just yammed it right on top of Shawn Kemp! Man, that was nasty! Kemp's the guy who used to dunk on four All-Star centers—and now he's the poster!"
Matt Goukas exploded.
"It's clear, Kemp's not the same. He ain't jumping like Zhao. That right there? That was a real one-meter vertical. That's an alpha dunk."
Marv Albert laughed.
Zhao looked down at Kemp like a king addressing a peasant:
"Almost forgot to mention—your paint? Yeah, that's mine too. You just visiting tonight, Kemp."
"You wish!"
After gettin' humiliated again and again, Kemp's temper flared.
"Paper tiger. I'll rip you to pieces," Zhao said coldly, brushing past him.
Score: 4-0. Cavs ball again.
Big Z tried to post up on the left block, but Big Ben was a brick wall, keeping him out.
"Chauncey, stay on your man! Use that size, your wingspan, and height—crush him! If you can't handle it, hit the damn bench!"
Zhao Dong barked at Billups from under the rim, voice echoing through the court.
Billups jogged up, towering over Knight by 13 centimeters, weighing more than 10 kilos heavier, and boasting a wingspan that was nearly 20 centimeters longer. Physically? He had Knight beat all over.
With Zhao Dong yelling like that, Billups clamped onto Knight like his life depended on it.
Dude played defense like Knight just stole his last slice of pizza—wild, aggressive, straight-up savage.
Knight damn near fumbled the ball and had no choice but to backpedal hard. Desperate, he tossed a lob toward Big Z in the paint.
That's when Zhao Dong exploded to the rim.
"BANG!"
Big Z barely got his hands on the ball before Zhao Dong came flying in, snatched it like a damn hawk.
"Let's gooo! Zhao Dong snatches the rock and the Knicks are off!" Zhang Heli shouted like he'd just won the lottery.
Up at the top of the arc, Billups took off.
"Chauncey! MOVE!" Zhao Dong's voice thundered from behind him, and Billups kicked into another gear, blowing by Knight like he was standing still.
As Billups hit the arc, Zhao Dong rifled the pass his way. Chauncey caught it clean, took a couple strides, and laid it in smooth.
Cavs tried to reset, but Coach Mike had seen enough—timeout.
"6-0 start, the Knicks out here putting on a two-way clinic," Matt Goukas hyped on NBC.
Marv Albert jumped in, hyped as hell. "This is the Zhao Dong effect. Once he's in the paint on D, he closes off driving lanes like a lockdown corner in football. His reaction speed? Insane. Makes help-side look easy. And on offense? Dude's passing and pressure just tears through defensive setups."
"Basically dominating both ends?" Matt Goukas said.
"Hell yeah," Marv nodded. "Ain't no one questioning his two-way dominance anymore. Scoring champ AND DPOY? He didn't stat pad that—he earned it with real impact. His offensive and defensive ratings are elite."
"No doubt. Hell, that's why the Knicks felt good moving Camby. They had this beast," Matt laughed.
They both cracked up on the mic.
Back on the floor, the timeout ended. Game on.
Cleveland tried again, but this time Big Z stayed out of the low block. He wasn't trying to get caught in Zhao Dong's trap again. He called for it in the left post instead.
"Chauncey! Pressure him! Make that pass hell!" Zhao Dong shouted from under the basket.
Billups locked in. Laser-focused.
Truth was, Billups had the potential—big time. Later, he'd get known for that calm, clutch presence. But right now, Zhao Dong was trying to light that fire, even if he had to be harsh. He wasn't doing this with just anybody, but Billups? He saw something there.
Still, it was a risky method. Too much pressure too fast could wreck someone, like what happened to Milicic back in the day.
"BANG!"
Knight tried to feed it into the post, but Billups read it cold, jumped the pass, and snagged the steal.
On the break, Alan Houston got the ball and pulled up for three—but bricked it.
Zhao Dong was already there.
"BOOM!"
He snatched the rebound mid-air and hammered it home with a vicious putback dunk that made the rim cry out.
"8-0! Zhao Dong's going off! Six straight points and full-court impact!" Zhang Heli shouted like it was Game 7.
The Cavs tried to respond. On the right wing, Shawn Kemp used a screen to shake Zhao Dong and cut to the basket.
Knight tried to hit him, but Billups was still all over him. The pass went wild and bounced outta bounds.
"Yo rookie! Can you throw a damn pass?!" Kemp snapped, furious. The one clean look they had was wasted.
But no time to stew—Knicks already flipping the floor.
Ben Wallace snatched the ball, found Billups on the outlet. Zhao Dong and Houston were already at halfcourt, streaking down.
Billups zipped it to Zhao Dong in the middle lane. No one back could contest.
Zhao Dong hit the paint, took flight from the wing, and mid-air—spun a full 360 before smashing it down with both hands.
"BOOM!"
The rim shook, and Gund Arena fell silent.
"Oh my! A 360 double-handed jam! Zhao Dong putting on a damn dunk contest in-game. Ratings just hit the moon!" Marv Albert roared.
"Not bad, rookie," Zhao Dong finally gave Billups a little nod, and Chauncey's face lit up like he just got MVP.
"Nineteen million? That right?"
Back in New York, at David Stern's place, he was on a call with someone from the president's office.
The Knicks were raking in serious cash from playoff ticket sales. One Knicks playoff run could out-earn multiple smaller market teams.
And Zhao Dong? Dude wasn't just dominating on the court—he was ratings gold. The league's next poster boy. Stern knew it.
However, with Zhao Dong sitting out, the Knicks' ticket sales for their first two home playoff games took a major hit. Ratings weren't lookin' too hot either—only pullin' in 12 million average viewers. That number had David Stern real disappointed.
But with Zhao Dong coming back in this one? Man, that gave him hope. And when the new data landed on his desk, it didn't let him down.
"But with Zhao Dong back, the Knicks are just miles ahead of the Cavaliers. I'm thinkin' if they smoke 'em in these two games, Cleveland ain't even coming back to New York," he muttered, a little bitter. If the Knicks swept the Cavs, those juicy, high-revenue home playoff games would go poof—no second round needed.
Back in Gund Arena, fans were already heading for the exits—and we weren't even outta the first quarter yet.
Zhao Dong had these boys locked down. The squad was cookin' on defense, and on the break, he was a damn blur. Dude kept launching fast breaks with that crazy combo of power and speed. And when it came to halfcourt sets? Isolation. Every time. He went at Shawn Kemp like it was personal—tore him up piece by piece. By the time the buzzer hit for the first quarter, Cleveland was already dead in the water.
Scoreboard flashed: 44–13. Knicks dropped a straight-up nuclear bomb in one quarter.
Still, even that wild first quarter didn't top the all-time playoff record. Back in the '61-'62 playoffs, the Lakers went off on the Pistons—West and Elgin Baylor dropped 51 in the fourth. That was legendary.
Even then, the Lakers still lost that series.
Zhao Dong? He played the whole first quarter. Statline was nasty: 10-for-11 from the field, 4-for-4 at the line, and he finished with 24 points, 3 boards, 2 dimes, 2 steals, 4 blocks, and 1 foul. Sheesh.
Shawn Kemp tried to hang but looked shook—1-for-6 shooting, 1-for-2 at the line, just 3 points, 2 rebounds, 2 turnovers, 2 fouls… and man got blocked 3 times by Zhao Dong. It was a one-man clinic.
Second quarter? Zhao Dong kept eating. Went 5-for-7, 1-for-2 from the line. Put up another 11 points, 3 boards, 3 assists, 1 steal, 2 blocks, 1 turnover, and 1 foul.
By halftime, Knicks were up 79–28. That's a 51-point lead, man. A straight-up demolition.
Zhao Dong's first half stats? 35 points, 6 boards, 5 dimes, 3 steals, and 6 blocks. Total domination. He and Ben had the Cavs' bigs lookin' lost. The Cavs' frontcourt shot 6-of-21 and got blocked 8 times in the half. Zero rhythm, zero fight.
Second half came, and the Knicks didn't even need Zhao Dong on the floor. Cavs gave up the ghost.
With the score outta control, the game shifted into full-on garbage time. Zhao Dong sat the rest of the way.
He had been stressing about the system's mission, but when he checked during the third, it already lit up:
"Congratulations, host. You played a dominant performance in this game. Please continue your dominant performance in the next game."
He smirked.
"Damn shame," Matt Goukas said when Zhao Dong hit the bench. "If he stayed in, he might've dropped another 50 and maybe even snapped MJ's single-game playoff scoring record."
"Lookin' at that halftime statline?" Marv Albert said, hyped. "That's enough to make the entire league start sweating!"
Matt laughed. "That right there? That's what we call dominance. On offense, he's unguardable. On defense, he's a damn wall."
Then his tone shifted. "But if you're too good, the league always finds a way to chain you up. Just like they did with Jordan back then."
He leaned forward, voice rising again. "But hey, if they gotta change the damn rules just for you? That's the highest form of respect."
After the game, the media came swarming like vultures, all trying to get a piece of Zhao Dong.
"Zhao Dong, you were going crazy out there. But are you worried the media might say you're on banned substances again?" one reporter asked, real slick.
Zhao Dong's face dropped. He looked pissed.
"I got a proposal," he said coldly. "Any media outlet thinkin' I'm juicing? Let's put up $100 million each. If I lose, I give up the cash and retire on the spot—completely leave the sports world."
Gasps hit the room.
"But if you lose," he added, eyes sharp, "you cough up your hundred million and put a public apology to me on the front page of the New York Times. Every day. For a year."
"Damn!" someone muttered.
Zhao Dong scanned the room. "So? Anyone got the balls to take that bet?"
Crickets.
"Only a damn lunatic would take that," a reporter whispered.
Zhao Dong heard that and snapped back, "Then shut your damn mouth."
He scoffed, turned his back, and stormed out. Interview over.
Later, at the postgame press conference, someone brought the heat again.
"Zhao Dong, do you think the league should do more random drug tests?"
Zhao Dong looked at him cold. "That's up to the league. Personally, I only accept fair, random checks."
"What do you define as fair?"
"My test rate better not be way above average. If it is, that's discrimination. Straight up."
He leaned in.
"And as far as I know, all the banned stuff comes outta European and American labs. Not one of them is from China."
"So if I had touched that stuff, trust me—somebody would've found something by now. And if you think you've got proof? I got a reward ready."
He held up a finger. "One million dollars. Anyone who can prove I ever bought that crap? The money's yours."
Reporters stared at each other.
No one moved.
"Ten million?" Zhao Dong raised his eyebrow. "Still no takers?"
"Hundred million? Anyone?"
"Two hundred mil? Not even one of you?"
"Damn shame," he smirked.
One reporter grumbled, "He's clowning us…"
Another corrected him. "No, he's roasting us."
They were salty, but there was nothing they could do.
One last reporter threw out a question: "Zhao Dong, if the league pulls a 'Jordan Rule' type move on you, what would you say?"
Zhao Dong scoffed. "I hope they come up with rules to slow me down."
He leaned into the mic with that signature confidence.
"Matter fact, I got a suggestion: they better come up with all the rules right now, save themselves the time. 'Cause changing it every damn year just to stop me? That's just embarrassing."
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