Tonight, the showdown is on.
Chicago Bulls Starting Five: Luc Longley, Dennis Rodman, Scottie Pippen, Michael Jordan, Ron Harper.
New York Knicks Starting Five: Patrick Ewing, Larry Johnson, Zhao Dong, John Starks, Charlie Ward.
"The Knicks put Starks in the starting lineup to beef up perimeter defense," Matt Goukas broke it down on the NBC broadcast. "But history shows he's had no luck stopping MJ. Jordan's cooked him plenty of times before."
"True, but he's still a better defender than Allan Houston," Marv Albert chimed in. "And to be fair, Starks is one of the few guys who at least gives Jordan some trouble. Right now, the Knicks' offense is running through Zhao Dong and Ewing, and Starks' scoring ain't far off from Houston's either."
"I still like the Bulls in this one," Matt Goukas said. "Without Oakley, the Knicks' defense has a huge hole. Oakley played a key role in double-teaming Jordan. Plus, Larry Johnson's back is wrecked—his offense is shot, and his defense is even worse. He can't make up for that loss."
"Yeah, no argument here," Marv Albert agreed.
Tip-off.
Zhao Dong won the jump ball and went straight to work. As he drove inside, Rodman slid over for the double-team. The two collided, and Rodman went full Hollywood—screaming, flailing, and crashing to the floor like he got hit by a truck.
Whistle.
Zhao Dong shot the ref a death stare while Rodman grinned, picking himself up like nothing happened.
"Shhh!"
Madison Square Garden erupted in boos.
"Man, calling an offensive foul on the first possession? That's wild! This is the Knicks' house," Zhang Heli called out in disbelief.
From there, the Knicks' offense struggled. The Bulls locked in on transition defense, killing New York's fast break game.
But like last game, Zhao Dong and Ewing leaned into their two-man action, working pick-and-rolls to keep pace with Chicago on the scoreboard.
8:00 mark, 1st quarter. Score tied at 14.
Zhao Dong got whistled for a defensive foul—his second of the quarter.
Van Gundy didn't take any chances. He pulled him out.
Without Zhao Dong, the Knicks' offense hit a wall.
Chicago doubled Ewing immediately, forcing the ball out of his hands. The Knicks had no answer.
End of 1st quarter: Bulls 25, Knicks 18.
2nd Quarter.
Zhao Dong was back on the floor from the jump, unfazed by the fouls.
But the Bulls threw a curveball—Hack-a-Knicks. Their bench mob played physical, chopping up the Knicks' rhythm on offense.
Halftime Score: Bulls 51, Knicks 38.
The second half? More of the same. The Knicks had no adjustments.
With six minutes left in the fourth, Zhao Dong fouled out. That was the dagger.
Final Score: Bulls 91, Knicks 77.
Knicks still led the series 3-2, but now they had to close it out in Chicago—not an ideal spot.
Zhao Dong's stat line:
35 minutes
8/17 FG, 2/5 3PT, 15/17 FT
33 points, 10 rebounds, 5 assists, 2 steals, 3 blocks, 2 turnovers, 6 fouls
Back in the locker room, frustration was thick in the air.
Starks was heated. "Man, the league just wants us gone. They shot 37 free throws, we got 21. That's some bullshit."
"They clipped Zhao early with four fouls in the first half. Straight-up handcuffed him," Larry Johnson added, pissed.
All the venting got the team fired up instead of deflated.
Zhao Dong stood up. "Fellas, we've fought all year for this. Pat's been grinding for over a decade. What for? The Finals. But now, they wanna rob us. What do we do?"
"Zhao Dong, what's the move?" Starks asked, still fuming.
"Zhao, just tell us what's next," Oakley added.
Zhao Dong nodded. "The more they try to screw us, the harder we fight. We're not backing down. We have the squad to take down the Bulls. And we're gonna do it in their house. You with me?"
"Hell yeah!" the locker room roared.
"In Game 6, we send 'em home!" Zhao Dong shouted.
"Kill the bull!"
The whole locker room was lit, their voices echoing down the hall.
Reporters outside caught wind of the energy.
"Let us in!"
"Open up, please!"
Media and management crowded the entrance, eager for a scoop.
May 29 – Arrival in Chicago.
That evening, Knicks owner James Dolan took the squad and their families out to watch Game 6 of the Western Conference Finals.
Final Score: Jazz 4-2 over the Rockets. Utah was heading to the Finals.
After the game, Barkley spoke to the media.
"I'm real disappointed. We had the squad to make the Finals. If we got there, we'd have a real shot at beating the Bulls. Our roster matched up better—we got Hakeem, and they got no inside presence. But we didn't get that chance. Tough series."
Zhao Dong scoffed. "Man, Barkley lost to Karl Malone? No wonder he's gonna retire ringless."
Lindsay laughed. "How can you be so sure?"
"My predictions are always spot on."
Lindsay shot him a look. "Didn't you say we'd beat the Bulls 4-1?"
"…Sometimes they're not spot on."
She rolled her eyes. "What if Barkley gets traded to the Knicks?"
Zhao Dong scratched his head. "Uh… that ain't happening, right?"
Meanwhile, Karl Malone was talking to the press.
"Karl, who do you want to face in the Finals?" a reporter asked.
"The Knicks," Malone said, dead serious.
"Why's that?"
"Because there's a villain on that squad. And I wanna take him down myself." Malone flexed his biceps for the cameras.
"Zhao, the Mailman just called you out," Larry Johnson snickered.
Zhao Dong shook his head. "Nah, he's got it twisted. I ain't the villain—he is. We're the New York Gentlemen. They're the Jazz Mafia."
"Haha..." Everyone laughed.
Zhao Dong chuckled and kept going, "This guy only knows how to throw punches when he fights. He doesn't even use his elbows, which are his deadliest weapons on the court. He also has no clue how to use his legs or feet. I smack him around every time.
Last time at the All-Star Game, he actually asked me to step into the ring, and I fell for it. But we never even got to fight in the ring, so I couldn't get back at him properly."
"He loses to you every time and gets embarrassed," Oakley laughed.
"You think we'll fight this time?" John Starks asked.
"The Jazz ain't as tough as the Bulls, and Karl Malone always shrinks in big games. If we lock down John Stockton and break up the Black and White duo, we might sweep them. But if they fall behind, don't underestimate their fight. Those two will try to provoke us or pull dirty moves, just like the Magic and the Heat did," Zhao Dong said.
"So, what's the plan?" Oakley asked.
"Same way we handled the Heat," Zhao Dong said.
"Alright, I got it. If I'm on the floor, I'll take care of it. If I'm out, Larry, it's on you," Oakley said to Larry Johnson.
"Bet," Larry Johnson said eagerly.
A few of the Knicks' management staff, including owner James Dolan, stood nearby, exchanging glances and sighing.
"Our team's different now. We got a real leader," General Manager Ernie Grunfeld whispered. "Patrick never stepped up like this. He was too reserved."
"Yeah," the others nodded in agreement.
"This season's MVP hasn't been announced yet, but it should've been by now," said Lewis, the president of basketball operations.
"Jordan won it last year, so it should be him again," team president John Maywell said.
But Dolan shook his head. "MVP ain't a lock. Word is, a lot of the media folks voting don't wanna give it to Jordan again."
"Why's that?" Ernie Grunfeld asked.
Dolan shrugged. "Probably fatigue. People are just tired of seeing him win. Plus, his regular-season numbers dropped a little from last year."
"Then who's getting it?" Liu Tiesi mumbled.
"One of my guys involved in the voting wanted to give it to Karl Malone," Dolan said with a smirk, "but I shut that down real quick."
"Good call, boss," Ernie Grunfeld said immediately. "No way we let Karl Malone win it. Anyone else is fine, just not him. Zhao Dong would be pissed."
"That's exactly what I was thinking." Dolan smirked. "If Zhao Dong wasn't still young and a little raw, I'd have pushed harder for him. The Knicks need an MVP."
"Next year, we can make a real push," Grunfeld said excitedly. "Zhao Dong's only getting better, and we'll be even stronger as a team."
The others nodded, Dolan included.
"Malone got suspended for a bunch of games this season. I don't think he should even be in the MVP conversation," Maywell said. "Too bad the league doesn't have rules about that. He's still sitting at No. 2 in the MVP rankings."
"We should push for a change," Lewis said. "Zhao Dong's idea last time was solid—there should be a minimum number of games played to qualify for awards."
"Yeah, we can push for that," the others agreed.
"You hear that, Zhao Dong?" John Starks, always with sharp ears, grinned. "Management's about to work on getting you that MVP next season."
"I gotta put up monster numbers and make sure the team wins," Zhao Dong laughed.
He remembered that in his previous life, Jordan didn't win MVP that season—Karl Malone did.
Thing is, Malone's stats weren't even better than Jordan's. And since he was the reason Malone got suspended for so many games, maybe this time it'd be different. He had no clue how it'd shake out.
May 30 – Game 6, Eastern Conference Finals
Knicks Starting Five:
Patrick Ewing
Charles Oakley
Zhao Dong
John Starks
Charlie Ward
Bulls Starting Five:
Luc Longley
Dennis Rodman
Scottie Pippen
Michael Jordan
Ron Harper
In the Knicks' locker room, a few reporters were allowed in.
"Michael, your tactics worked last game—you shut down Zhao Dong," a reporter asked Jordan. "How do you think the Knicks will adjust this time?"
Jordan smirked. "We're gonna keep playing elite defense and stick to the details. As long as we execute, it doesn't matter what adjustments they make—we'll take them down."
Back on the court, the Knicks stepped into enemy territory—the most intimidating home crowd of the era.
Zhao Dong stood at the tunnel exit, one step away from stepping into the light and facing the boos.
"We gotta beat the Bulls tonight. Beating them on their own floor would be legendary. Taking down Jordan in front of his own fans? That'd be perfect."
He hyped himself up, feeling the adrenaline surging through his veins.
"BOOOOO!"
The second he stepped into the light, a tsunami of boos crashed down on him.
The United Center shook. The energy was insane, like the whole arena was about to explode.
But Zhao Dong thrived in moments like this.
"The louder they boo, the sweeter the victory."
He was wired. The adrenaline rush made him sharper, his reflexes quicker, his movements stronger.
Tip-Off
The ball went up, and Zhao Dong won the jump ball. Knicks' possession.
Charlie Ward brought the ball up as the crowd rained down deafening boos.
Ron Harper pressed up, trying to rattle him, but Zhao Dong swung to the left wing and snatched the ball.
Pippen stepped up.
Zhao Dong was lightning-fast—before Pippen could plant his foot, Zhao Dong spun and burned past him.
By the time Pippen reacted, Zhao Dong was already two steps ahead.
Rodman rotated from the low post, Ron Harper collapsed from the top, and Luc Longley slid over from the weak side to cover Ewing.
Jordan also sagged in, closing off the paint.
A full five-man collapse.
If Zhao Dong dared to drive, he'd be walking into a damn warzone.
Just as Rod Harper, Rodman, and Pippen closed in, Zhao Dong suddenly pulled up for a jumper two steps outside the paint.
They were still a step away, caught off guard by the quick stop. None of them even attempted a contest. All they could do was watch him rise up.
At his peak, Zhao Dong gave his right wrist a smooth flick. His mind was locked in, but his body? Loose as hell. That wrist action felt perfect.
The ball sailed through the air as he landed. Before it even touched the rim, he turned and casually threw up an "OK" sign.
Swish!
Nothing but net.
The three thousand Knicks fans in the stands exploded.
"Yeah!"
But the United Center? A wave of boos rained down, loud as hell. Middle fingers everywhere.
"Man, I hate that early celebration," one Bulls fan spat. "Just once I wanna see his cocky ass miss. He'd look dumb as hell."
"He's gonna brick one sooner or later!" another one yelled.
Zhao Dong turned, grinning. "Damn, y'all are nice. Appreciate it. Gave my shot some meaning."
"Motherfu—"
Pippen and the crew clenched their teeth so hard they might break. They wanted blood.
Zhao Dong just laughed in their faces.
"Zhao, that was sick!"
Oakley and the squad ran up, hyped.
"Kill the Bulls!" Zhao Dong roared.
"Kill the Bulls!" the whole team echoed.
Up in the NBC broadcast booth, Marv Albert was shaking his head, half in disbelief.
"Man, Zhao Dong is feeling himself today. First shot of the game, three defenders, and he still pulled that move off."
Matt Goukas chuckled. "High risk, high reward. If he missed that? Embarrassing as hell. But that's Zhao Dong. His playoff run took him from regular-season star to full-blown superstar. And superstars? They bet on themselves."
"Honestly," Marv Albert said, "besides Jordan, who does that? Zhao Dong did the same thing in Game 1, straight-up clowned the Bulls after hitting that dagger. The whole world's been replaying that moment ever since."
"Yeah, you know Jordan saw that clip a hundred times by now," Goukas laughed.
The Bulls came back on offense.
Right wing, beyond the arc—Jordan vs. John Starks.
Two old rivals. Jordan, the best in the game. Starks, the undrafted scrapper who never backed down.
Normally, Pippen ran point, but today? Jordan was handling everything. Pippen's playmaking wasn't reliable, and neither was Ron Harper's. If the Bulls wanted clean looks, MJ had to orchestrate it himself.
Different ballgame than usual. When Jordan played off-ball, he could shake off Starks with his movement. But today? He had to dribble—and Starks wasn't letting him breathe.
Jordan jab-stepped. Then attacked.
Oakley ditched Rodman and collapsed inside.
Charlie Ward? He abandoned his man and doubled too.
Three-man trap on Jordan.
Zhao Dong hovered near the left elbow, eyes locked on Pippen creeping along the wing. But the second Jordan whipped a pass to Harper? Zhao Dong darted to the top of the arc.
Harper caught it. Instantly, Pippen cut inside.
Harper lobbed it over Zhao Dong's reach.
Pippen caught it in stride—but BOOM. Zhao Dong and Ewing swarmed him.
Meanwhile, Jordan slid to the top of the arc, using Harper as a moving screen. Starks hesitated. Charlie Ward got stuck.
Jordan was open.
Pippen saw it, kicked it out.
MJ caught it, took two hard dribbles to the elbow, and pulled up just as Zhao Dong turned to contest.
Splash.
"Textbook offense!" Marv Albert shouted. "Three quick passes, perfect movement, and Jordan punishes the defense!"
"That was beautifully executed," Matt Goukas agreed.
Jordan turned, about to start talking trash—
But Zhao Dong was already sprinting past him.
MJ reacted instantly. No words, no flex—just pure instinct.
He turned and chased.
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