NBA: The Dynasty Crusher (Basketball)

The game was scheduled for 8 PM, but the crowd had already started pouring into Madison Square Garden by 6:30. At the same time, both teams arrived—Spurs and Knicks, buses pulling into the underground parking lot nearly in sync.

As Zhao Dong stepped off the Knicks' team bus, a sleek sports car pulled in beside him. He turned his head—and there he was.

Michael Jordan.

Click! Click!

Knicks team reporters Thomas and Yang Yi immediately snapped away, their cameras flashing as Jordan stepped out.

"Michael Jordan, welcome to Madison Square Garden," Zhao Dong said, greeting him as the host.

Jordan flashed a half-smile. "Zhao Dong, I'm betting tonight's ratings won't even hit 30 million."

Zhao Dong's smile froze, his face darkening instantly. He didn't bother to respond and instead turned his attention toward the Spurs walking toward them.

The San Antonio squad immediately felt a strange tension. Zhao Dong's expression unsettled them. Head Coach Gregg Popovich especially felt the pressure. He remembered that infamous moment in Los Angeles when Zhao Dong had created a scene just because the Lakers coach didn't greet him properly.

Popovich slowed down as he walked toward Zhao Dong.

Damn it… is he waiting for me to greet him first?

Zhao Dong just stood there, smiling politely, not saying a word. The silence was deafening.

Click, click, click...

Thomas and Yang Yi were eating it up with their cameras. Their videographer zoomed in, recording every second. They could smell a headline.

Zhao Dong was planning something. He didn't like Popovich one bit. Sure, the guy would eventually become a legend in the Chinese basketball community for leading the Spurs to multiple championships. But right now, Zhao Dong couldn't stand him—especially after Popovich had publicly supported controversial comments that Zhao Dong hated.

So he waited, letting the tension simmer. If Popovich didn't greet him first, he'd give the Spurs hell tonight.

But truthfully? Even if Popovich did greet him, he was still planning to tear the Spurs apart. It was the Finals. And the Spurs? They weren't a flashy team. If Zhao Dong didn't cause waves, the ratings would plummet—and Jordan would mock him endlessly.

He could already hear it in his head: "See? Ever since I left, no one watches. You're not carrying the league, Zhao."

Popovich finally stepped forward. Seeing that Zhao Dong still didn't initiate a greeting, he grunted and walked past angrily.

Behind him, Old Nelson awkwardly retracted his outstretched hand. Popovich was too pissed to even acknowledge him—or Jordan.

Jordan raised an eyebrow and muttered to Zhao Dong, "Zhao, I can't fight anymore. So you better give the Spurs hell for me tonight."

Zhao Dong grinned. "As you wish."

"Hey... Zhao Dong..." Tim Duncan said hesitantly, his calm face betraying a hint of anxiety.

"Don't stir up trouble, man," David Robinson warned, frowning.

Zhao Dong just smiled and turned back to Jordan. "I was about to greet him. Then he rushed past me like I was a cone in a layup drill. I think he just disrespected me."

Jordan laughed. "Then wreck them."

Robinson's expression darkened.

Still ignoring the Admiral, Zhao Dong turned to Charles Barkley. "Charles, what do you think we should do tonight?"

Barkley didn't hesitate. "Humiliating you is humiliating all of us, humiliating the Knicks, humiliating Madison Square Garden, and humiliating New York City. Tonight—we beat the damn Spurs!"

"BEAT THE SPURS!" Danny Fortson and the rest of the Knicks squad shouted in unison, fists clenched, voices echoing through the garage.

"Ernie," Zhao Dong called to the GM, Ernie Grunfeld, "let the equipment team know to prep the spare backboards and rims. Just in case."

"Already on it," Grunfeld grinned.

"You bastards..." Robinson's jaw tightened as he stormed away.

Jordan was nearly doubled over laughing.

Once the Spurs were gone, the Knicks erupted into laughter.

"Let's roll!" Zhao Dong shouted, waving his hand.

"Follow the captain!" Barkley called, hyped up.

Veteran Willis Reed and others followed Zhao Dong out with swagger in every step.

Moments later, another car entered the garage.

"Michael."

Phil Jackson had arrived and spotted Jordan instantly.

"Phil?"

Jordan was surprised to see another familiar face exit the vehicle—none other than Jerry West.

"Jerry wants me to coach the Lakers," Phil explained. "We're still negotiating."

Jordan nodded. Phil had already wrapped up both of his contracts with the Bulls. He was a coaching free agent now.

The trio chatted briefly and then followed the Knicks toward the tunnel.

As they left, more cars began rolling in—New York celebrities, Hollywood stars, and a flurry of NBA legends. Among them: Shaquille O'Neal, Kobe Bryant, Jason Kidd, and Tracy McGrady.

Kidd and McGrady arrived with Charles Oakley, who'd become the Bulls' new enforcer in the post-Jordan era.

"Yo Kidd," Shaq grinned, "Bulls rebuilding? Come join us in L.A."

Oakley stepped forward, glaring. "You want smoke, Shaq?"

"Damn, Charles," Shaq laughed. "I'm just asking a question!"

Kidd shook his head with a smile. "Nah, man. Even without Michael, the Bulls ain't rebuilding. We're reloading."

"Too bad," Shaq said.

Nearby, Kobe and McGrady exchanged a quick nod.

"Yo, Tracy."

"Yo, Kobe."

The two young stars shared a bond—both straight out of high school, both rising wings with freakish talent and eerily similar playstyles. The mutual respect was real.

"Wait up!"

A voice called out from behind just as a few of the players were heading into the arena.

Everyone turned around and saw a familiar figure jogging up—it was Vince Carter, the rookie nicknamed "UFO," the high-flying phenom making waves across the league.

Carter was already a household name from his college days. A highlight machine known for his violent dunks and electrifying play style, he had the entire country watching. Before even stepping onto an NBA court, he'd inked a massive sneaker deal with Zhao Dong's Sports. And once he hit the league, it only took one lockout-shortened season for him to become a star, dazzling fans with aerial acrobatics and earning the nickname "The Canadian Flying Man."

"Hey, Vince!"

"Tracy! Good to see you, man."

McGrady and Carter dapped each other up with big smiles. The chemistry was real.

The two were distant cousins. Back in high school, they both played in the AAU circuit, but oddly enough, didn't know they were related. Carter once even gave up his locker for McGrady, who didn't have one at the time.

Later, at a family reunion, McGrady bumped into Carter's grandmother. While chatting, McGrady mentioned he was heading to North Carolina for a pickup game. Carter's grandmother casually replied, "My grandson plays there too." When McGrady asked who, the name "Vince Carter" came up. That's when it clicked. The Vince he played ball with... was family.

After a few more NBA faces arrived—some players, some celebrities—they all walked in together, the buzz building ahead of Game 1 of the Finals.

---

Meanwhile, back in China, CCTV's live broadcast was already in full swing.

"Really? Hah! Then tonight's game is gonna be lit!" Zhang Heli said, amped, after getting the scoop from Yang Yi on-site. "Why would Popovich repeat the same mistake Kurt Rambis made? Respecting your opponent is respecting yourself. Zhao Dong waited for him, and he didn't even acknowledge him? Man, that's just cold."

Sun Zhenping chuckled. "Sounds like Zhao Dong's gonna trade in some of those rebounds for revenge tonight."

Over in the U.S., NBC was getting the same breaking news. With national coverage for the Finals, their commentary was now Bob Costas, Doug Collins, Isaiah Thomas.

"Oof, that's personal," Bob said, raising an eyebrow. "Popovich just made it personal with the league's only international superstar. Not smart."

Doug grinned. "There's no doubt—it's gonna be a war in the paint tonight. Both teams are powerhouses down low. The Knicks and the Spurs thrive on their post game. Expect some bruises."

"Alright, let's guess the starting lineups," Isaiah suggested, leaning forward.

"No mystery with the Spurs," Bob replied. "The Twin Towers are set. Robinson and Duncan aren't going anywhere. But for the Knicks, Coach Nelson's got options."

"The Knicks have both defensive and offensive bigs," Doug added. "If I were Nelson, I'd go with a defensive setup first—Ben Wallace and Danny Fortson. Then let Zhao Dong operate from the low wing, similar to Duncan's role."

"Two defensive bigs though?" Bob asked, doubtful. "Might get too cramped. I'm guessing he mixes it—one defensive, one offensive."

"Could be. Let's break it down." Doug leaned back. "Wallace is solid, but his height's a problem. He can't match up with both Duncan and Robinson. Fortson's only 6'7" too, but he's a rebounding monster and a better post defender."

"So who gets the nod as the offensive big?" Bov grinned. "Barkley? Kevin Willis? Or... Zhao Dong himself?"

"I say Barkley," Isaiah replied. "It's the Finals. Nelson's putting his chips on the superstar."

"Then the real question is—how many boards does the humiliated Zhao Dong grab tonight for payback?" Bob laughed.

Isaiah and Doug burst out laughing too. "We might see a record."

---

On the sidelines, reporters swarmed Michael Jordan.

"Michael, we just heard Popovich ignored Zhao Dong in the parking lot. Is that true?" one reporter asked.

Jordan smirked and shrugged. "Yeah... Zhao Dong waited, and... well, let's just say it didn't go unnoticed."

He didn't want to say more. Anyone with eyes could see Zhao Dong was setting Pop up, and Jordan wasn't about to spell it out. Let the media spin their own story.

"So the Spurs and Knicks are beefing now?" another reporter asked, already excited.

"Looks like it," Jordan said with a grin. "The Knicks players are out here yelling about 'protecting the boss.' Sounds like they're ready for war."

Just then, O'Neal and a group of celebrities entered the arena, drawing the attention of the press.

A few minutes later, the Knicks' wives showed up—except for one.

Lindsay wasn't with them.

She didn't fit their mold, not even close. She wasn't part of their social circle. Sitting together always felt awkward, strained. Even their husbands got nervous around her.

At 7 PM sharp, the media went into a frenzy.

"Click, click, click..."

Lindsay walked in, flanked by male and female bodyguards. She wore a rose-red sleeveless dress, simple but elegant. With her poise and otherworldly beauty, she instantly stole the spotlight from every celebrity in the building. She didn't even need flashy jewelry—her aura did all the talking.

And her presence? It hit different.

"Miss Lindsay!"

Everyone she passed—celebrities, business elites, even rival owners—greeted her with genuine respect.

Wall Street elites in the crowd stood up when she arrived, waving and calling out from the stands. She wasn't just Zhao Dong's girlfriend. She was Lindsay, the financial queen of Wall Street. In a room full of stars, she still outshined them all.

"Miss Lindsay."

A few upper-class celebrities from New York rose from their seats and approached Lindsay with respectful smiles.

In this era, America was deep in the financial age. Financial tycoons like Lindsay wielded incredible power—so much so that their influence could sway entire markets, and even politics. Her presence couldn't be ignored.

In truth, most of the people here would never get the chance to interact with someone like Lindsay under normal circumstances. Tonight was a rare opportunity.

"Miss Lindsay."

Even the wives of the Knicks players came forward.

Lindsay smiled and gently corrected them, "I prefer you call me Mrs. Lindsay."

"Mrs. Lindsay."

Barkley's model wife, Maureen Blumhardt, was the first to catch on and quickly changed her tone.

The others followed suit immediately.

"Mrs. Lindsay."

"Mrs. Lindsay."

Lindsay nodded politely, her charm effortless and commanding. "Ladies, let's have a little party sometime."

"Of course—it would be an honor!"

Maureen and the rest lit up as if they'd just won the lottery.

More people began gathering around Lindsay, and soon she was completely surrounded. Her influence was undeniable.

---

On the sidelines, Dream nudged Michael Jordan.

"Mike, unlike Zhao Dong, Zhao doesn't work for Nike. Mrs. Lindsay's the president of Nike now—your real boss. Shouldn't you go say hi?"

Jordan shot Dream a sharp look. You have no idea what you're talking about.

Back in London, he had casually called Zhao Dong a "gigolo," and Lindsay—absolutely livid—had retaliated by signing off on a $10 billion buyout of Nike by her company, Storm. That move nearly destroyed Jordan's MJ brand.

Say hi now? He was doing his best to avoid her.

What he didn't know was that Lindsay had been planning the acquisition for years. He just happened to be the unlucky guy standing in the crosshairs when the trigger got pulled.

---

Meanwhile, in the Knicks' locker room...

Owner James Dolan was hyped. He dumped a huge pile of colorful cash right onto the table.

"Let's go, baby! Look at that!" The players erupted in cheers, hollering at the sight of the money.

Zhao Dong walked up and calmly threw a cloth over it. "Alright, no one's taking your cash. Lock in—we got a game to win."

Old man Don Nelson stepped forward. Time to announce the Game 1 starters.

Yesterday, the coaching staff had finalized the Knicks' core game plan.

Offensively, they'd stick with what worked against the Bulls: use Zhao Dong to draw double-teams on the strong side. If he could create a shot, great. If not, swing it to the weak side. It was a reliable system. Even when he was swarmed, Zhao still produced elite efficiency.

But this wasn't Chicago. The Spurs' Twin Towers, Tim Duncan and David Robinson, had height and reach that Oakley and Rasheed Wallace simply didn't.

This time, Zhao couldn't just bully his way into the paint. He had to pull one of the Twin Towers out to the mid-range to open space.

To counter their size, the Knicks needed interior size too.

That's why Nelson made a surprising move: starting Charles Barkley.

In his prime, Barkley could posterize Robinson. But now? With age and injuries catching up, Barkley couldn't jump. He was barely 6'6"—shorter than Jordan—and had lost his explosiveness. That's why Nelson hadn't relied on him earlier in the playoffs.

He had other options—Kevin Willis, for example, standing at 7 feet. But Willis lacked agility and had limited low-post skills. He'd be eaten alive by the Spurs' frontcourt.

Defensively, Willis was slow. He could rebound, but he couldn't protect the rim or help defensively against high-motor bigs like Duncan.

Instead, Nelson turned to Wang Zhizhi (Dazhi). Dazhi could still move. He had decent hops, could time his blocks, and had offensive upside.

The other big man? Danny Fortson.

Dazhi wasn't dominant on the glass. Fortson made up for that. He could crash the boards, play solid man-to-man defense, and stretch the floor with a mid-range jumper.

This season, Fortson had played 31 minutes per game and averaged 12.9 rebounds—just 0.1 shy of Chris Webber's league-leading 13. That was elite territory.

Earlier in the season, he'd been benched more due to foul trouble from reckless rebounding. But after adjusting his playstyle, his efficiency skyrocketed.

---

At 7:30 PM, both teams officially released their starting lineups.

San Antonio Spurs Starting Five:

Center: David Robinson

Power Forward: Tim Duncan

Small Forward: Sean Elliott

Shooting Guard: Mario Elie

Point Guard: Avery Johnson

New York Knicks Starting Five:

Center: Wang Zhizhi

Power Forward: Danny Fortson

Small Forward: Zhao Dong

Shooting Guard: Latrell "Madman" Sprewell

Point Guard: Chauncey Billups

[End of Chapter]

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