At 8:15, the first team walked out of the tunnel.
"Zhao Dong, I know you'll come after me again tonight. You've always been a coward." O'Neal roared in the player tunnel, his booming voice echoing through the corridor.
"Oh? You're trying to get in my head now?" Zhao Dong raised his eyebrows, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Even if you win by hacking me, I'm not conceding," O'Neal fired back.
Zhao Dong smirked, signaling for his teammates to follow. "You should keep those words to yourself. I've made my stance clear."
"This isn't fair," O'Neal snarled.
"You've got it twisted. It's fair until the league says otherwise," Zhao Dong replied calmly. Shaking his head, he added, "You only think it's unfair because it's not in your favor. From our side, it's strategy. In professional sports, everything within the rules is fair game. You just don't like being on the receiving end."
Without another glance, Zhao Dong jogged out to the court.
A thunderous boo rolled down from the Staples Center rafters. Knicks jerseys were drowned in a sea of gold and purple, middle fingers stabbing into the air like daggers.
"Zhao Dong, hacking Shaq won't save you. The Diesel's going to tear down your basket!"
"Zhao Dong, your ring's a joke. You don't deserve to be called a champion!"
Zhao Dong heard none of it, but the venom in their eyes said it all. He smiled, light on his feet, jogging toward center court.
Tip-off was scheduled for 8:30.
Zhao Dong waved Fordson back, stepping up against O'Neal himself.
"Not tonight," O'Neal growled, his massive frame towering like a beast barely holding back its rage.
"Let's see you prove it," Zhao Dong replied coldly.
Bang!
O'Neal tapped the ball first, and the Lakers charged forward.
Moments later, O'Neal bulldozed into the paint, shoving aside both Fordson and Zhao Dong. With a ferocious two-handed dunk, he rattled the rim and brought the Staples Center to a roaring frenzy.
"Zhao Dong! You can't stop me!" O'Neal bellowed, his voice filled with dominance.
"Back on defense!" Phil Jackson barked, waving his arms from the sideline.
The Knicks didn't flinch. Fordson inbounded quickly, launching a laser pass upcourt. The other four bolted forward, leaving O'Neal and Big Ben lumbering behind.
"Boss!" Fordson hollered as he fired a pinpoint pass to Zhao Dong.
Defenders scrambled everywhere—Ginobili on the left wing, Stackhouse and Rogers cutting off the right. Kobe peeled off Stackhouse, sprinting midcourt to cut off Zhao Dong's path.
But Zhao Dong was just as quick. Even with a slower start, he made up the ground. Kobe's angle was tighter, but by the time they reached the center stripe, Zhao Dong was shoulder to shoulder with him.
Kobe swung to disrupt the dribble, but Zhao Dong expertly shifted hands, brushing off the pressure with a sharp crossover. His powerful shoulders bumped Kobe, knocking him off balance. Kobe stumbled and hit the floor.
With the paint wide open, Zhao Dong charged ahead, leaping off his right foot. Muscles coiled, he soared toward the backboard.
BOOM!
The arena went silent for a fraction of a second before the backboard shattered into pieces, glass raining down like confetti.
"Ohhhhhh!" Lakers fans gasped in shock.
"Let's go!" Three thousand Knicks fans erupted in jubilation.
"Shit!" Kobe cursed under his breath, climbing to his feet with fury in his eyes.
Zhao Dong landed, flexing under the destroyed rim, his teammates surrounding him in celebration. He roared toward the Lakers' section, pounding his chest.
"BOOOOO!"
The chorus rained down, but Zhao Dong simply grinned.
Timeout was called as Lakers cheerleaders quickly took the floor.
Staples was star-studded tonight. Hollywood celebrities packed the front rows. Legends filled the building—Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Elgin Baylor, Jerry West, James Worthy, and owner Jerry Buss himself sat courtside.
Zhao Dong's backboard-breaking dunk left everyone stunned. A few neutral celebrities stood and clapped, but hardcore Lakers faithful stayed seated, their faces grim.
"Shaq has to answer that. We can't let the energy drop," Baylor said, his expression serious.
"Absolutely, we've gotta punch back immediately," Jerry West agreed.
Zhao Dong jogged by, glancing at the row of legends with a grin. "If I joined the Lakers, who'd be the boss—me or Shaq?"
The Lakers legends blinked in stunned silence.
"Is this kid for real?" Kareem muttered.
"He's just stirring the pot," Worthy shrugged. "His wife's a Wall Street queen, and New York is his turf."
"Word is, Lindsay's been in China. She hasn't been seen on Wall Street for months," Jerry West countered.
"And Knicks owner James Dolan just took a massive hit on his investments. That's why he made that crazy trade," Magic Johnson added. "If Zhao Dong's pissed, maybe New York can't keep him after all."
"Any chance?"
Old Buss leaned forward, excitement gleaming in his eyes. He felt the opportunity of a lifetime was right in front of him. If he could somehow land Zhao Dong, the Lakers' strength would bulldoze the entire league.
But there was a downside—sky-high luxury tax. That looming bill made his head hurt just thinking about it.
The Lakers fans sitting nearby overheard the comment and their hearts started pounding wildly.
"Oh my god, if Zhao Dong joins the Lakers, we're winning ten straight championships!"
"But who's the alpha?"
"Of course it's Zhao Dong. Shaq can't hold him down, but I'm worried about locker room drama."
"Shaq won't fall in line behind Zhao Dong."
"Actually, Shaq might end up getting dropped in the locker room. Zhao Dong's a world boxing champion after all."
The debate grew louder, spreading like wildfire through the arena while the game was paused.
From the side, Ernie Grunfeld's sharp eyes landed on Zhao Dong. "Zhao Dong?" he muttered under his breath.
Zhao Dong gave a casual smile. "Relax, I was just messing with the old guys."
Ernie exhaled in relief… but his worry didn't fully fade. The truth was, Knicks owner James Dolan was in deep financial trouble. The franchise was tightening its purse strings, and Ernie knew Zhao Dong wasn't happy about it. Now wasn't the time to address it, not during the Finals. He'd have to table that conversation until after they chased the championship.
Twenty minutes later, play resumed and the Lakers launched their attack.
O'Neal muscled his way toward the basket. Fordson battled hard from behind, Zhao Dong anchored the paint with Big Ben beside him, ready as the last line of defense.
Fordson had bulked up, weighing in at 122 kilos after a few months off—four kilos heavier than before. Still, there was a 25-kilo gap between him and O'Neal, and the Diesel quickly bulldozed through him.
Harper lobbed the ball in, Ginobili's pesky defense forcing a high-arching pass instead of a crisp line-drive feed.
O'Neal tried pinning Fordson with one arm while reaching for the ball with the other, but before it even reached his fingertips, Zhao Dong came swooping in from behind—stealing it clean!
"Damn it!" O'Neal cursed, turning to chase.
"Zhao Dong picks his pocket and he's flying down the court!" Zhang Heli's voice exploded from the commentary booth.
Glen Rice stood tall at the top of the arc, but Zhao Dong zipped a quick pass to Rogers, looped around Rice, and kept running.
Kobe shifted to block Rogers, who dished it back to Zhao Dong, now gliding across the center line into the frontcourt.
"Eeeeek!"
Zhao Dong slammed on the brakes at the top of the arc, forcing Kobe to halt as well. Stackhouse, who Kobe had abandoned, cut sharply from the left wing, caught the pass from Zhao Dong, and launched himself into the air.
"BANG!"
A violent one-handed dunk rattled the Lakers' rim.
"Back-to-back fast breaks for the Knicks!" Barkley shouted in the broadcast. "They're setting the tone early, pushing pace to maximize Zhao Dong's explosiveness and avoid half-court traps."
Kenny Smith chimed in, "And this forces O'Neal to waste gas chasing back on defense. Smart adjustment by New York."
The scoreboard blinked—4:2. Knicks up early, Lakers back on offense.
"Shaq!" Phil Jackson bellowed, signaling a new set.
O'Neal planted himself in the low post on the left wing, less aggressive than before. Harper dribbled at the top, Kobe zig-zagging through screens on the right wing, trying to shake Stackhouse.
Zhao Dong's attention drifted. He had to keep an eye on Kobe's relentless cuts.
Suddenly, Harper fired a pass inside to O'Neal, drawing everyone's gaze—including Zhao Dong.
Meanwhile, Kobe ghosted behind Zhao Dong, unnoticed.
O'Neal backed Fordson down, battering his way closer to the hoop. Zhao Dong slid over to help, but O'Neal faked baseline, spun back, and zipped a sneaky bounce pass under the basket.
Big Ben blocked Zhao Dong's path, and the pass sailed past both of them—straight to Kobe.
Kobe rose and hammered home a violent dunk over his own teammate Big Ben.
Zhao Dong, blocked out, could only watch the rim shake.
"B—" Zhao Dong started to yell but stopped himself, violently shaking off Big Ben's arm before launching himself up the court.
"Boss's being sneaky!" Big Ben muttered, trying to keep up. He'd already fallen two steps behind.
The Knicks' transition was lightning quick—Ginobili, Rogers, and Stackhouse all sprinted ahead, pinning Lakers defenders behind the arc.
Fordson inbounded, Zhao Dong snatched it and accelerated to the top of the arc. The spacing was beautiful—three teammates spread wide, Lakers scrambling, and the paint wide open.
Zhao Dong didn't hesitate, bolting into the lane and detonating another ferocious dunk.
"Is the backboard going to explode again?!" Lakers fans winced.
BOOM!
This time the backboard rattled violently… but stayed intact.
"This is the Knicks' small-ball style, built around Zhao Dong's explosive transition game. The Lakers simply can't keep up with this terrifying fast break attack," Zhang Heli exclaimed with excitement.
Su Qun chuckled. "Shaq and Big Ben aren't slow, but compared to the Knicks' pace, they're still lagging behind. They can't match up in transition and are getting caught flat-footed."
Score stood at 6-4, Lakers trailing. Phil Jackson called a timeout.
After analyzing the early possessions, Phil Jackson realized the Knicks were determined to run the floor. He needed to adjust quickly.
Big Ben had to sit. His lack of offense and speed left the Lakers exposed in transition. His defense only mattered in half-court sets—and that wasn't the game being played tonight.
Jackson turned to Robert Horry.
"Robert," he called out, "you'll stretch the floor and open up one-on-one opportunities for Shaq. If Zhao Dong switches onto you, your job is to slow him down in transition. All I need is one second—half a second even—for Shaq to get back under the basket. If Fordson switches onto you, same assignment. Delay him."
"Yes, coach," Horry responded firmly.
"Shaq, you too," Jackson added. "No matter who's in front of you, the moment we lose possession, you cut them off. No easy runouts."
Timeout ended and play resumed.
Seeing Horry check in, Coach Nelson reacted immediately, barking from the Knicks sideline, "Man-to-man! Rogers, you're on Horry. Zhao Dong, stay ready to rotate under the basket!"
The Lakers set up in the frontcourt. Horry stationed himself in the left corner with Rogers on him. Glen Rice took the left wing, Zhao Dong checked him. Kobe was on the right wing, Stackhouse marking him. Harper handled the top of the arc, defended by Ginobili. O'Neal marched straight to the low block.
Fordson had the unenviable task of fronting O'Neal. He tried to deny the entry pass but Shaq overpowered him, creating deep post position. Harper lofted it inside.
Bang!
O'Neal jumped to corral the pass, but the angle was off. No alley-oop opportunity. He landed, repositioned, kept Fordson pinned. As Shaq rose for a follow-up slam, Zhao Dong came crashing down with a help-side swat, knocking the ball loose.
"Mine!" Fordson roared, boxing out Shaq, leaping, and ripping down the rebound.
Zhao Dong took off like a freight train. Fordson zipped him the outlet pass. Harper tried to cut him off near the arc, but Zhao Dong shifted directions and left him in the dust.
The court opened wide. Kobe and Glen Rice scrambled along the wings, too late to react. Zhao Dong thundered into the paint and detonated a rim-rocking dunk.
Bang!
Staples Center vibrated as the Knicks' road fans let out a triumphant roar.
8-4, Knicks stretched the lead.
Lakers came down, but their first possession after the timeout fell flat. Phil Jackson grimaced, shouting, "Glen! Stick to your man! Stay attached at all times!"
Glen Rice shot Jackson a look but stayed silent. Defense wasn't his thing—scoring was. Guard Zhao Dong? That was a suicide mission. Rice barely weighed 100 kilos. A full-speed collision with Zhao Dong would send him flying.
Jackson understood the dilemma but was trapped. Zhao Dong controlled the tempo and dictated matchups at will.
Back on defense, Zhao Dong picked up Rice, giving him space to cheat toward the paint.
Harper swung the ball to Rice. Zhao Dong took a stutter step, contesting the three-pointer, but Rice missed—clanging it off the rim.
Fordson fought like a madman, boxing out Shaq and snatching the rebound despite a strained left knee. Months of cautious rehab flew out the window. Tonight, it was all-out war.
Shaq executed the coach's plan perfectly, immediately closing off Fordson's outlet options. The Knicks pushed, but Fordson hesitated, unable to make a clean pass.
Zhao Dong circled back, presenting himself for the ball. But the Lakers double-teamed Fordson under the basket. Frustrated, Fordson flung an elbow, knocking Horry to the floor.
Whistle blew. Technical foul.
Fordson clenched his jaw, raised a hand toward the ref, and glared.
Barkley cracked a grin from the booth, "If this was rookie Fordson, we'd be watching a full meltdown by now."
Smith chuckled, "He's controlling it better than Rasheed Wallace ever could."
Barkley shook his head. "Rasheed led the league in techs this season. The Bulls might look to move him. Locker room chemistry's a problem when you've got T-Mac and Sheed going at it."
Smith nodded, "Oakley's got one year left in Chicago. As long as he's there, things stay calm. But if they find a solid frontcourt option, don't be surprised if Sheed's gone next season."
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