NBA: The Dynasty Crusher (Basketball)

"Jordan, you made the right call," Zhao Dong nodded as he spoke.

"Don't think I'm scared of you," Jordan said coldly. "If I was ten years younger, I'd still bust your ass."

"You only had one shot to beat me at my peak—back in my rookie season," Zhao Dong shook his head with a smirk.

Jordan narrowed his eyes. "After Magic and Bird stepped away, I ran this league. The four super centers? They all came after me. Now it's your turn. I wanna see if you can carry the torch and dominate your own era. If not? You're nothing but a flash in the pan."

Zhao Dong chuckled. "Make sure you pull up to Madison Square Garden and catch my games. You're a New Yorker too, after all." He patted Jordan's shoulder and turned to leave.

"...Sigh."

Jordan stared at Zhao Dong's back, then sighed deeply. His era was fading into the rearview mirror.

"Mike… you really gonna hang it up?" Tracy McGrady asked quietly.

Jordan turned to the young star and paused. After a moment, he nodded.

"If we don't get a damn All-Star center in his prime, what are we even doing? We ain't beating that dude..." He stared at Zhao Dong's silhouette disappearing down the hallway. "I don't want to be remembered as just another member of a group project when I retire."

McGrady and Jason Kidd exchanged a glance. If Jordan really left, it would just be the two of them. They had Rasheed Wallace, sure—they'd still be playoff-bound—but chasing a chip? That was a different story.

Two seasons alongside Jordan had shaped them. Now, they only had one goal: a championship.

---

Back in the Knicks' visiting locker room, Zhao Dong and his squad stepped in and were met by a familiar face.

"Charles," Zhao Dong smiled.

"Zhao," Oakley grinned back.

"What's up?" Zhao Dong asked.

"It's about Ewing. I want him to retire as a Knick. Think you can make that happen?"

"You already know where I stand. That's a front office call. Go ask Ernie—he's right outside," Zhao Dong replied.

Oakley laughed. "Knew you'd say that."

---

Meanwhile, back in the Bulls' locker room, the mood was grim. They had just taken another L, and with Ewing and Jordan both talking retirement, nobody was in the mood to speak. Nobody even moved—they just sat there, zoned out.

That's when Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf burst in, his expression stiff.

"Jerry? I'm sorry," Coach Phil Jackson muttered, head low.

Reinsdorf looked frustrated. He'd put so much into this season, but now they were on the brink of elimination. And with Jordan announcing retirement? That was a gut punch.

If Jordan left, it'd crush the Bulls' market value. No sugarcoating it. But still, they had young guns like McGrady, Kidd, and Rasheed Wallace. Especially McGrady—his playstyle was box-office. The Bulls wouldn't fall off a cliff, but it wouldn't be the same.

"Michael... is this for real?" Reinsdorf asked, skipping any mention of Game 5. Down 1–3 to the Knicks? He knew nobody could stop Zhao Dong—not even Mike.

Jordan nodded slowly. "It's time, Jerry. Just like Magic, Bird, Dr. J… Everyone leaves eventually."

Right then, the locker room door creaked open again. Oakley walked in.

"Michael?" he greeted, walking toward Jordan.

"I'm good, Charles. You talk to Zhao?" Jordan asked with a knowing smile.

"Yeah."

Oakley turned to Ewing. "Patrick, I ran it by Zhao. He's not gonna block anything—same way he didn't when the team traded you."

"Me?" Ewing blinked in surprise.

"I also talked to Ernie. He's welcoming you back. The team's offering a short contract for next season so you can officially retire at Madison Square Garden."

"For real?" Ewing's voice trembled.

"Congrats, Pat," Jordan and the others smiled.

"Thank you… thank you all," Ewing said, eyes glossy.

Just then, Jordan's phone buzzed.

"It's the boss—David Stern," he said, raising his phone. The whole room went silent.

Jordan answered.

"Michael, are you serious?" Stern asked right away.

"I am, David. I'll retire after the Eastern Conference Finals. It's time."

"What if I allow the Bulls to bring in an All-Star center?"

Jordan paused for just a second—just one.

"No… If we gotta load up just to win one, that ring won't mean anything to me."

Stern was quiet for ten long seconds.

"I hope you'll reconsider, Mike. You know we want you around. You've always been our face."

"I know. But my mind's made up," Jordan replied.

By that night, the news exploded across the U.S. and around the world.

In China, CCTV Sports broadcast it during noon news. Japan, South Korea, and other media outlets covered the story in depth. The next morning, nearly every American sports outlet ran the headline: Jordan to Retire Again.

David Stern didn't sleep that night. The NBA's market was about to take a major hit.

---

By noon the next day, both the Knicks and Bulls landed in New York City.

Game 5 of the Eastern Conference Finals could be Jordan's final professional game—his real curtain call. Stars, celebrities, legends… everyone flocked to the Big Apple.

The Knicks' office was flooded with calls from people begging for tickets.

Team President Lewis made the call: ticket prices for Game 5 would triple compared to Game 2.

Upper deck: $8,000

Courtside: $150,000 per seat

Even with those insane prices, tickets flew like crazy.

Why? Because the stock market had quadrupled in two years, and money from across the globe was flooding into NYC. Middle-class investors were sitting on piles of cash. For a game like this, fans would pay 10x, not just 3x. Hell, with how fast stocks were rising, they could make that money back in minutes.

That night, Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals tipped off.

With the roar of the home crowd behind them, Shaquille O'Neal, Kobe Bryant, and Glen Rice lit up the floor again. The Lakers' Big Three went head-to-head against the Spurs' Twin Towers, and neither side backed down. The game was deadlocked at 101–101 and eventually pushed into overtime.

In the extra period, Tim Duncan kept his composure. Even though he was clearly running on fumes, the Big Fundamental stayed locked in—knocking down 3 of 5 shots and racking up 6 straight points. His biggest play came at the end, swatting away Shaq's lob attempt in the closing seconds.

Final score: 112–111, Spurs win.

San Antonio takes a commanding 3–1 series lead over the Lakers.

"We'll win Game 5," Kobe said flatly in the post-game interview after dropping 28 points.

The reporter pressed on, "Shaq went 6-for-17 from the line tonight. What's your take on that?"

Kobe gave a helpless shrug. "That's on him. I trust he'll handle it."

Later, a reporter cornered Shaq with a jab, "Would you consider practicing free throws with a urinal?"

O'Neal's eyes widened. "Man, I'd rather die."

---

June 3rd — Game 5, Eastern Conference Finals

"Michael Jordan's farewell game: A clash of eras."

— The New York Times headline.

That night, Madison Square Garden was electric.

Hollywood A-listers filled the stands, but it was the basketball royalty that truly made it a spectacle. Dozens of NBA legends—both retired and active—showed up to witness what could be the final curtain for the greatest of all time.

Larry Bird. Magic Johnson. Hakeem Olajuwon. Elgin Baylor. Walter Frazier. Willis Reed. Rick Barry. Dr. J. Scottie Pippen. Kevin McHale. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. Moses Malone. Nearly a third of the NBA's 50 Greatest Players were in the building.

Millions more tuned in on TV—including Kobe Bryant, watching from home. He wasn't just a fan—he was a student. Kobe studied everything about Jordan: his skills, his mindset, his will to win.

Zhao Dong had front-row seats, but he handed them out—to Knicks legends Reed and Frazier, and one to Olajuwon. Yao Ming got bumped to the back row, and Lindsay didn't show. Zhao still had 27 reserved tickets in the back for friends, familiar players, and celebs. Some of those were now Lindsay's.

NBA commissioner David Stern was in the VIP suite, sitting next to Knicks owner James Dolan.

NBC 's broadcast trio for the night? Marv Albert, Matt Goukas, and guest commentator Reggie Miller—Jordan's old nemesis.

---

"Reggie, who you got tonight?" Marv asked on air.

Reggie cracked a grin. "Zhao Dong better go all in and give MJ the sendoff he deserves."

Matt Goukas leaned forward. "What exactly do you mean?"

"I mean go mano-a-mano," Reggie said. "Zhao Dong's gotta face Jordan straight up—guard him one-on-one, challenge him at shooting guard, and beat him head-on. That's how you prove it's a new era."

"Classic style," Goukas nodded. "No double teams. No help. Just two legends clashing."

Marv asked, "But what if Zhao Dong loses that one-on-one battle?"

Reggie chuckled. "Then he ain't ready to take the crown. He's just another superstar—not the superstar."

---

Inside the Knicks' locker room.

Zhao Dong turned off his phone with a hard tap.

Old Don Nelson looked up. "Zhao, you good with what Reggie's saying?"

Zhao Dong smiled. "Exactly what I had in mind."

Nelson didn't hesitate. "Alright then, it's your show tonight."

He turned to the team. "We're playing man-to-man tonight. Zhao's taking Jordan one-on-one."

Then he announced the starters.

Since the strategy demanded floor spacing, Ben Wallace and Fortson weren't suited for tonight. Instead, they rolled with Charles Barkley and Wang Zhizhi to stretch the floor.

Barkley grinned. Starting in the Eastern Conference Finals—and possibly eliminating Jordan? Even if he didn't start in the Finals, that ring would mean something special now.

Starting Lineups

Bulls:

PF - Charles Oakley

C - Kurt Thomas

SF - Tracy McGrady

SG - Michael Jordan

PG - Jason Kidd

Knicks:

PF - Wang Zhizhi

C - Charles Barkley

SF - Zhao Dong

SG - Latrell "Madman" Sprewell

PG - Chauncey Billups

---

Tipoff was set for 8:10 PM.

In the hallway before introductions, Zhao Dong nodded silently at Jordan. MJ returned the nod. No words needed.

BOOM!

Jordan took the court and MSG exploded with thunderous applause.

"Even on the road, this crowd's treating him like a hero," Zhang Heli said during CCTV's broadcast. "This is the farewell he deserves."

Jordan hugged every icon courtside. It took forever—even delaying the Knicks' intro. Zhao Dong stood at the tunnel, watching. Mixed emotions brewed inside.

"Damn… is he really gonna come back again? Hope he doesn't get tricked by the Wizards this time like in my last life," Zhao Dong thought.

30 minutes later—tipoff.

Wang Zhizhi won the jump. Knicks ball.

"Are they gonna go iso from the jump?" Matt Goukas wondered on the NBC broadcast.

"Oh! Zhao Dong's got the rock out on the left wing… Jordan's guarding him one-on-one… they're really doing it!" Marv shouted.

Zhao Dong held the ball beyond the arc. Jordan stood just inside the three-point line. McGrady, the closest help defender, wasn't even stepping up.

"Come on, kid," Jordan barked. "Show me what you got."

Zhao smirked. "Hope you like jumpers."

No hesitation. He rose up for a three—no pump fake, no dribble.

Jordan leapt to contest—but he was nearly a foot short.

"Shiiit!" Jordan cursed under his breath.

The moment his feet touched the hardwood, Jordan turned around instinctively—just in time to see the orange rock arc through the air and splash clean through the net, stirring the white nylon like a wave of silk.

Swish.

"YEAH!!"

The crowd at Madison Square Garden exploded.

"Zhao Dong pulls up from downtown and nails a three—right over Jordan's head! What a statement to start the game!" Marv Albert roared.

Matt Goukas added, "He's not known for taking threes, especially in the playoffs. But tonight, he's coming out aggressive. Looks like we're getting a head-to-head duel—Zhao Dong matching up as a shooting guard against Michael."

Reggie nodded beside them. "If Zhao Dong takes it down low, it's barbecue chicken. Jordan can't body him—it's not even close. This is a mismatch on paper, but on the perimeter, it's anyone's game."

The Bulls brought the ball up.

Right wing. Outside the arc. Jordan held the rock.

Across from him, inside the three-point line, stood Zhao Dong.

As usual, the Knicks didn't send help. No double. Just one-on-one.

"This is it, folks! It's mono e mono!" Zhang Heli shouted in Mandarin commentary.

"Hope they both show up like legends tonight," Sun Zhenping added. "We could be watching the gods at war."

Zhao Dong smirked and started jawing. "C'mon, shoot the three. Or I'm calling you soft."

Jordan didn't blink. "As you wish."

The GOAT jab-stepped, selling a drive. Zhao Dong bit—just for a second.

That's all Jordan needed.

He pulled back behind the arc and let it fly.

Splash.

Zhao Dong twisted his head mid-air and caught the result: same as before. Nothing but net.

He cursed under his breath. He knew the three was coming, but Jordan's footwork and rhythm had his instincts reacting too early.

"His Airness returns fire! Jordan answers Zhao Dong with a smooth triple of his own!" Matt Goukas bellowed.

Next play. Knicks ball.

Zhao Dong brought it up, eyes locked on Jordan.

"I'm blowing past you this time," he said.

"Try it."

One quick fake, one step—gone. Zhao Dong blew by him, sliced through the paint, pulled up just inside the arc, and drilled a silky mid-range jumper.

Bucket.

The Garden roared again.

From that moment on, it was a full-blown shootout.

Zhao Dong and Jordan took turns lighting up the scoreboard. Every trip down the floor was an iso. Fadeaways, drives, dunks, pull-ups—they emptied the clip.

Zhao Dong didn't bully Jordan with strength or his size. He stuck to finesse, skill, and pure firepower. He either rose up over Jordan or left him in the dust and slammed it home.

First Half Stats:

Zhao Dong: 15-22 FG, 3-5 3PT, 4-4 FT – 37 points

Michael Jordan: 12-22 FG, 2-5 3PT, 3-3 FT – 29 points

But time was no ally to Jordan.

In the second half, the years on his legs began to show. His shots were still falling—but not like before. The efficiency dropped.

Zhao Dong? He stopped pressing. Gave up the duel.

Instead of chasing points, he shifted into floor general mode—took over Billups' role, ran the offense, organized plays, found his teammates.

Still, the numbers were gaudy.

Final Box:

Michael Jordan: 22-40 FG, 3-7 3PT, 6-7 FT – 53 points

Zhao Dong: 51 points (limited second-half shots, focused on playmaking)

And the Knicks walked away with the win.

As the final buzzer sounded, Jordan, drenched in sweat, lifted both arms high to salute the roaring crowd. The fans at MSG stood in ovation.

"The end of an era," Zhang Heli said solemnly, watching Jordan bask in the cheers.

"And the beginning of another!" Sun Zhenping replied, voice trembling with excitement.

—-

"From this moment on, we'll only see Jordan's greatness in replays and highlights," Marv said. "This is it."

Reggie suddenly asked, "You think he'll come back again?"

Marv was caught off guard. "What?"

He shook his head. "I… don't think so."

Just then, Zhao Dong walked over to Jordan, hand extended.

"Michael Jordan," he said, "Your career has been one of the greatest rides in sports history. I hope retirement treats you just as well."

Jordan shook his hand and pulled him in for a hug.

Then Jordan chuckled, "Just make sure your wife doesn't kill my MJ brand. I need that income now more than ever."

Zhao Dong laughed. "Relax. You'll be pulling in tens of millions annually off that brand for the rest of your life."

Jordan smiled. "That's what I like to hear."

Zhao Dong paused, then said, "Hey, if you ever decide to buy an NBA team, hit me up. I'll help you make it happen."

Jordan's eyes widened. "You serious?"

Owning a team had always been his dream. And no Black man had done it yet. If anyone could help him pull it off—it was the man standing in front of him.

Jordan hesitated, then nodded. "We'll talk."

But before they could say more, the host walked over.

Zhao Dong gave Jordan a nod, then turned and walked away.

(End of Chapter)

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