At 10 a.m. on the 25th, the league officially announced its most prestigious individual regular season award—the 1998-1999 NBA Most Valuable Player. The honor went to none other than Zhao Dong.
Given his absolutely dominant stats, the result came as no surprise. The league skipped any theatrics and revealed the MVP right after the second round of the playoffs.
This marked Zhao Dong's second MVP award, and his first time winning it back-to-back. With just one MVP, most players are already ticketed for the Hall of Fame. Two? That's a guaranteed lock.
Historically, only a select few have won consecutive MVPs. Jordan won it back-to-back once. If Zhao Dong wants to truly surpass him in individual accolades, winning three straight MVPs is the move. Only three legends have done that: Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, and Larry Bird. Jordan never managed three in a row.
---
May 26th – New York City.
At noon, the Chicago Bulls touched down in New York. The Eastern Conference Finals were officially about to begin.
During a press conference at the team hotel, a local New York reporter fired the first shot.
"Michael, you've faced the Knicks in the Eastern Finals three straight seasons. How confident are you this time?"
Jordan smirked.
"My confidence is as big as my heart."
The reporter chuckled and responded,
"A person's heart is only as big as a fist, Michael. So that's all the confidence you've got?"
Jordan's face darkened. He stared the reporter down.
"Man, are you trying to get cute? You know exactly what I meant."
A New York Times reporter chimed in next.
"Michael, how are the Bulls planning to handle Zhao Dong's high-efficiency offense?"
That question wiped the smirk off Jordan's face. He leaned forward, serious.
"That's been our biggest challenge for three years now. We've put together some new defensive sets we didn't use during the regular season. We're saving them for this series. Hopefully, they'll work."
"Can you share the details of the strategy?" the reporter asked eagerly.
Jordan scoffed.
"C'mon now. You think I'm gonna tell you that before Game 1?"
---
Same day – Knicks HQ.
Two hours later, the New York Knicks held their own press conference.
"Zhao Dong," a reporter asked, "Jordan says the Bulls have a new defensive plan designed to shut you down. Do you believe him?"
Zhao Dong leaned into the mic, calm and confident.
"Maybe they do, maybe they don't. It doesn't really matter. What matters is how we play. As long as we bring our energy and execute, nobody in this league is stopping us from defending our dynasty."
That evening, the 1999 NBA Draft Lottery was held at a New York business hotel. ESPN broadcasted it live.
All the teams that missed the playoffs were in attendance, each hoping the ping pong balls would bounce their way.
Sitting nervously near the front were the execs from the teams with the worst records:
Utah Jazz (last place)
Vancouver Grizzlies (2nd worst)
New Jersey Nets (3rd)
Charlotte Hornets (4th)
Los Angeles Clippers (5th)
Toronto Raptors (6th)
The teams lower on the list had slimmer odds, but hope still lingered.
Despite being called a "weak draft year" by scouts, there were still some standout prospects. Elton Brand was the consensus top pick, but another name had quietly gained major traction:
Yao Ming, a low-key center out of Duke and a personal friend of Zhao Dong, had been climbing mock drafts. Many saw him as a legit No. 1 contender.
Back at the Jazz's section, owner Larry Miller and GM Tim Howells sat tensely.
They had three first-rounders and three second-rounders this year. Their rebuild hinged on getting the top pick, and they had their eyes locked on Yao Ming.
Suddenly, Tim leaned in and whispered:
"Mr. Miller… the media says Zhao Dong believes washing your hands in a boy's urine brings good luck."
Larry Miller turned slowly, staring at his GM like he'd just grown a second head.
"You want me to wash my hands in kid's piss?"
"Just... maybe? For the sake of the team?"
Larry looked at his palms. Then back at Tim.
"You really think that would work?"
"I mean... maybe? What if it does?"
After a moment of silence, Larry Miller nodded.
"Alright. Go make it happen."
Tim froze. He hadn't expected the boss to take him seriously. Where the hell was he supposed to find boy's urine?
"This is a hotel, there's bound to be kids around," Miller said, urging him on.
Regretting everything, Grunfeld stood up and headed out.
"And make sure it's from the real deal!" Miller called after him. "No fake stuff!"
---
Thirty minutes later.
Larry Miller stepped outside to find Tim standing near the hotel bathroom, a bright red slap mark across his face.
"What the hell happened?" Miller asked, stunned.
Tim looked sheepish.
"I found a kid, but his mom flipped out and slapped me."
Larry sighed and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
"You've been through enough. Take a couple of days off."
Tim hesitated, then blurted out:
"Boss... I got something to confess. Please don't laugh."
"I won't. Say it."
"I'm actually... the boy Zhao Dong talked about. My urine is the lucky one."
Miller nearly lost it. His face twisted as he tried not to burst out laughing.
"I swear, boss! I'm a virgin!"
That made it worse.
"When I was a kid... a mule kicked me in the junk. So... yeah. I've never been with anyone."
Miller's face was turning red from holding in his laughter.
> "Oh... Oh God..., Tim. It's destiny. I believe you. I really do…"
He turned away, barely able to keep his stomach from cramping with laughter.
Ten minutes later, Larry Miller and his general manager, Tim, quietly returned to the draft lottery venue, moving like two thieves sneaking back into a crime scene.
Larry took his seat with a blank expression, his hands—recently washed in what he now referred to as "holy water"—held up in front of his chest like a surgeon prepping for an operation. He kept them far away from his nose, unable to forget what he had just done.
Surprisingly, no one seemed to care. In fact, several other executives at the venue had a similar look, hands raised like cult members waiting for divine judgment.
The Grizzlies' GM tilted his head, eyeing Larry suspiciously and muttering, "No way… did Larry Miller actually get baptized in that stuff?"
Right beside him, the Nets' owner Lewis Katz and GM Bill Remingway were holding their hands up too, looking like they'd just come back from church service. Clearly, they'd both taken the whole 'Zhao Dong holy water' thing seriously.
NBA Commissioner David Stern stepped up, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced around the room. "What's up with everyone today? Owners and GMs from the top lottery teams all got their hands in the air like they just saw God."
Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. "Well, gentlemen… let's begin this year's draft lottery."
The first pick was up for grabs.
The process was clear: fourteen ping-pong balls numbered 1 through 14 were dropped into a spinning machine. Four balls would be drawn to form a combination. There were 1001 possible combinations, minus one invalid set—leaving 1000 valid outcomes.
As the worst team in the league, the Utah Jazz had 250 of those combinations, giving them a 25% shot at landing the No. 1 pick. A solid chance… but nothing guaranteed.
Despite the presence of so many big names, no one needed to physically draw lots. The machine would do the job.
Larry Miller's heart pounded as the balls started bouncing inside the clear container. He reached into his pocket and swallowed a nitroglycerin pill, trying to calm down.
Only after gulping it down did he realize—his fingers still reeked of that "baptism."
He gagged, nearly puking on the spot.
But this was the draft. He had to hold it together.
Ten seconds later, the machine released four balls.
The room turned silent. Everyone leaned forward, eyes locked on the combination. But from where they sat, they couldn't make it out clearly. All they could do was hold their breath and wait for Stern to read the results.
Stern squinted at the balls, then announced with a smile, "Number 1… Number 6… Number 9… and Number 11. Congratulations to—"
"Yeah, baby! Let's go!"
"Holy water works, man!"
Before Stern could even finish, Lewis Katz and Bill Remingway jumped up, fists raised in the air like they'd won the championship.
"Damn! Nets got the top pick!"
"No way! Why not us?!"
"They actually used that piss trick? No wonder they got lucky!"
The Grizzlies, Clippers, and other lottery hopefuls groaned in frustration.
Larry Miller was stunned, staring blankly at his GM. "Tim you've been saving that virgin urine for forty years… you telling me it was fake?"
Ham's face fell. "Boss… I swear, it was real… maybe I should've gotten baptized too…"
Tears welled up in his eyes. Real or not, it clearly didn't work.
Back in Utah, Karl Malone—now retired after being knocked out by Zhao Dong—was sorting through fishing rods at his ranch while watching the draft lottery on TV.
When he saw the Jazz miss out on the No. 1 pick, disappointment washed over his face.
His phone rang. It was his agent, Philil.
"Karl, what's the move now? I'm getting calls from a bunch of teams. You're a free agent, nobody can stop you now. You can go wherever you want."
Malone leaned back and rubbed his jaw. "Lemme think about it."
He wanted a ring, sure. But he also wanted one last big payday.
Last season, he made $6 million—his highest ever—but due to the shortened season, he only pulled in $4 million. After taxes, his total career earnings weren't much—only around $30 million gross, and maybe half that in-hand.
He had just a few million left in the bank.
Now, he needed a contender that could pay big.
Back at the venue, the lottery concluded.
Despite having the best odds, the Jazz only ended up with the third pick. Bad luck, or just bad juju.
The full results:
1st Pick – New Jersey Nets
2nd Pick – Memphis Grizzlies
3rd Pick – Utah Jazz
4th Pick – L.A. Clippers
5th Pick – Charlotte Hornets
Following the draw, the Nets' front office was quickly pulled into a live ESPN interview.
"Mr. Katz, Mr. Remingway, rumor has it you both followed Zhao Dong's 'advice' before the lottery?" reporter Jack asked with a grin.
The two execs chuckled nervously and said nothing.
"Fair enough. So… now that you have the top pick, who are you targeting in the draft?" Jack pressed.
Katz glanced at Remingway, who gave a confident nod.
Remingway answered, "We're looking for a dominant big man. We're really interested in Duke's star center—Yao."
The second those words left his mouth, a wave of disappointment spread through the other teams. They had their eyes on Yao too.
Especially the Jazz. Larry Miller and Tim looked like they'd just been hit by a truck.
Their strategy had been to hype up Brand in the media, hoping to scare others off Yao and let him fall to them.
Clearly… it didn't work.
Meanwhile, in a hotel room in New York, Yao Ming was watching the announcement with his parents and agent, Zhang Mingji.
When he heard the Nets say his name, he couldn't stop smiling. His parents were overjoyed, and even Zhang grinned like he'd won the lottery himself.
But not everyone was smiling.
Elton Brand, Yao's teammate, sat in silence, stunned.
The media had been hyping him non-stop, calling him a lock for the No. 1 pick.
Now, it was clear—he'd been played.
"The most essential tool for winning the draft lottery... is boy's urine."
"The Nets won the No. 1 pick, and honestly, boy's urine deserves the most credit."
"The Jazz are chasing Duke's center. The No. 1 pick is basically locked in. The league's about to see its first No. 1 overall pick straight out of Asia—straight outta China."
The next day, sports media across the nation went wild covering the draft results—overshadowing even the upcoming Eastern Conference Finals. Every major outlet had headlines about the Nets, the lottery, and that historic No. 1 pick.
9:00 AM – Manhattan, New York
Zhao Dong had just finished breakfast and was getting ready to hit the gym behind his apartment when his phone buzzed. It was a call from Dayao.
"Brother Dong, the Nets just called Zhang Mingji. They invited me to a tryout. Should I go?" Yao Ming's deep voice came through the line.
Zhao Dong grinned. "Of course, go. If they pick you, you'll be their franchise center. Even as a rookie, you'd be their starter."
Later that evening – Madison Square Garden
The lights were blazing, the crowd was thunderous. It was finally here—the Eastern Conference Finals. Two of the most-watched teams in the NBA were about to collide. The spotlight was massive. And with stars like Zhao Dong and Michael Jordan in the same building, the hype was unmatched.
Beyond the obvious headliners, there were countless side stories adding spice to this showdown.
The Knicks were defending their championship, aiming to build a dynasty. But across from them stood Michael Jordan—who had just been sniped by Zhao Dong during his attempted second three-peat. Could MJ return the favor and crush Zhao Dong's first title run?
Zhao Dong himself had once been cast aside by the Bulls. Now? He was their worst nightmare. And just like Zhao, another Chinese player the Bulls had recently ignored was now shining off the Knicks' bench. Karma?
Then there was the Bulls' frontcourt—Charles Oakley and Patrick Ewing. Both had once been pillars of the Knicks' interior. Now they were suiting up for the enemy. Could they help Chicago take down their former squad?
And what about Tracy McGrady? Zhao Dong had shut down a midseason trade that would've sent T-Mac elsewhere. Now McGrady was suiting up for the Bulls. Could he become the one to block Zhao's dynasty the same way Zhao blocked MJ's?
Don't forget rookie Cuttino Mobley either. As Jordan's backup, he'd been solid all year. Could he make a surprise impact?
This wasn't just a playoff series—it was drama, revenge, legacy, and history wrapped into one. The hype was so massive that even before tip-off, the game had already pulled in 30 million live viewers.
Live Broadcast – NBC Network
Inside the booth, Matt Goukas chuckled as he looked at the numbers.
"We're still 30 minutes from tip-off," he said. "But I'm willing to bet tonight we're breaking the all-time viewership record of 45 million."
Marv Albert grinned beside him. "Why not shoot for 50 million? With these storylines? We just might. Anyway, the starting lineups are in. Let's take a look."
Marv read the Bulls' lineup: "Oakley and Rasheed Wallace will start in the paint, McGrady at forward, and in the backcourt—it's Jordan and Jason Kidd."
Goukas nodded. "Solid starting five. Big, athletic, experienced."
Marv continued, "For the Knicks—it's Ben Wallace and Danny Fortson holding down the paint. Zhao Dong starting at forward. Guards are Sprewell and Chauncey Billups."
Goukas raised an eyebrow. "Looks like Barkley's been pushed to the bench again. Think he's pissed?"
Marv laughed. "Probably. Winning a ring off the bench just doesn't hit the same as starting."
Then Goukas leaned in with some analysis. "Here's the issue though—the Knicks' frontcourt lacks real offensive threat. With Ben Wallace and Fortson both clogging the paint, that's gonna make it tough for Zhao Dong to get his drives going."
"In the second round," he continued, "Zhao's been living in the post. If you ask me, the Knicks should think about moving Ben Wallace. Dude's amazing on D, but his presence down low clogs the lane and kills spacing."
Marv nodded. "Exactly. When you've got a dominant center—whether they're an offensive beast or a defensive anchor—they demand space under the rim. And when they sit in the paint, it gets real hard for slashers to cut or drive."
Goukas added, "Fortson at least has a mid-range jumper—but no one respects it. The Knicks don't even run plays for him out there 'cause his shooting efficiency's just not good enough. So he ends up stuck inside with Big Ben, and now the paint's way too crowded."
Marv summed it up: "With all that traffic in the key, looks like Zhao Dong will be sticking to the low post tonight."
CCTV Broadcast – China
Over on the Chinese feed, commentator Zhang Heli echoed the same thoughts.
"Zhao Dong has been very effective in the low post this postseason," he said. "It's not flashy, but it's efficient. However, the Knicks have to be careful. Rasheed Wallace has incredible help defense. His rotations are faster than what Zhao faced against Leo Ratliff and the Sixers."
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