NBA: The Dynasty Crusher (Basketball)

Sure enough, as soon as the ball went dead on the next Spurs possession, Coach Popovich made a quick adjustment. He subbed out starting small forward Sean Elliott and brought in Malik Rose to check Zhao Dong.

Malik Rose, like Zhao Dong, was part of the 1996 draft class. Taken with the 15th pick of the second round, the undersized forward stood at 6'7" (201 cm) and weighed in at 250 pounds (113 kg). He wasn't the strongest or most athletic, but he had a sharp mind, both on and off the court—a guy with a double college degree and a solid basketball IQ.

Zhao Dong remembered Malik Rose from his previous life. In 2020, Rose had become the Vice President of NBA Basketball Operations—a rare rise for a role player.

What Zhao Dong didn't know yet was that in 2005, Rose would be traded to the Knicks. Their then-GM Isiah Thomas—who many fans said had taken one too many elbows to the head—sent two first-round picks to the Spurs for a role player. Some suspected Popovich had hypnotized him.

Back to the present. The Spurs tried to feed Tim Duncan inside. He grabbed the offensive board but Zhao Dong challenged the shot, forcing a miss. The Knicks big man under the rim cleaned up the rebound.

Now on offense, Zhao Dong pulled back to the wing again.

This time, Fordson didn't get free on the cut—Malik Rose had sealed him off near the paint. Seeing that, Zhao Dong kept the rock and attacked himself.

He sized up Rose on the perimeter. One step, just one explosive stride, and he was by him. It was almost too easy. Next came Duncan.

With the ball in his left hand, Zhao Dong dropped into a hesitation—head fake, shoulder lean, explosive push off the back foot. He sold the shot perfectly, and Duncan bit. Zhao Dong slipped past him with a smooth euro-step and broke into the lane.

Admiral David Robinson rotated back from the weak side, abandoning Dazhi at the perimeter. It was the right call—Dazhi hadn't been hitting tonight.

Zhao Dong didn't hesitate.

No more finesse.

This was the Finals.

This was war.

Left hand on the ball, right arm shielding his drive, he exploded off two feet into the paint—straight into the teeth of the defense. Both Malik Rose and Robinson went up with him.

"HE'S UP THERE!" Bob Costas shouted from the booth.

Malik Rose jumped to meet him but was dwarfed—Zhao Dong's head was a foot above his, and his wingspan dominated the airspace. Robinson came from the top but couldn't elevate fast enough.

Realizing they couldn't stop the dunk, both Spurs swiped down.

"PAK! PAK!"

Two hard fouls.

"BOOM!"

Zhao Dong detonated at the rim.

The backboard shook violently as all three bodies collided mid-air. He held onto the rim with his left hand, his body swinging above them. Robinson and Rose crashed to the hardwood below.

Hanging from the basket, Zhao Dong stared coldly down at the two sprawled defenders. His face was emotionless, but his red-streaked forehead showed the impact—Robinson had raked him hard across the face.

"YEAHHHH!"

Madison Square Garden erupted.

"BRUTAL!"

"That dunk was WICKED! He bodied both of 'em—that's how you go to the rim!"

"He just baptized Malik Rose and posterized The Admiral!" Doug Collins shouted, nearly jumping out of his chair.

"Zhao Dong with a throwdown straight from hell!" Isaiah howled. "We haven't seen that kind of explosion since Shawn Kemp in his prime!"

The camera panned to the sideline—Jordan, Oakley, and other Knicks players were up and out of their seats, losing their minds.

The referee blew the whistle—and-1. The foul went to David Robinson.

As Zhao Dong dropped down from the rim and walked past Robinson, he leaned in and whispered coldly, "Hey, super center—next time, rotate earlier. I want another one over you."

Robinson's blood boiled.

"What'd you say to me?" he growled, headbutting Zhao Dong right on the forehead.

Zhao Dong didn't flinch. He cocked his elbow and shoved Robinson back. The Spurs center stumbled backward two, almost three steps before regaining balance.

"You trying to scare me?" Zhao Dong barked. "You didn't even fight back when Karl Malone elbowed your head in! You're tough now because I'm Chinese? My grandfather fought your army back then. You think I'm scared of you?"

The boos started pouring in from all directions at Robinson.

"BOOOOO!"

"Get him outta here!"

The referees rushed in quickly—panic all over their faces. This was Game 1 of the Finals. The President of the United States was watching from the VIP suite. This wasn't the time for a brawl.

"Easy! Break it up!" the lead official shouted, wedging himself between them.

From the Knicks bench, Oakley was already halfway onto the court.

"We fightin' or what?!" he yelled with a grin.

"Come on, Charles, let's keep it basketball," Jordan said with a scoff. "Only clowns throw fists when they run outta moves."

"Better watch that mouth, Mike," Oakley chuckled. "You remember what happened in London when Lindsay heard you runnin' it."

Jordan's face stiffened.

Lindsay had definitely caught him trash-talking Zhao Dong that day, and the fallout had been… unpleasant.

He subtly glanced at the VIP section.

Too loud in here. Hopefully she didn't hear that.

The refs got both players under control. Robinson took a step back, face still tight with frustration. Zhao Dong, surprisingly, kept his cool.

He stepped to the line.

Swish.

Three-point play completed.

On the next Spurs possession, Zhao Dong locked in on Duncan.

No way was he letting Timmy get into the paint again.

He crowded him aggressively, using every inch of his frame and muscle to box Duncan out of position. Twice in a row, Duncan went for offensive boards—twice Zhao Dong bodied him off and secured the rebound. One of them, he even blocked Duncan clean at the rim.

The Knicks' offense remained sharp. Zhao Dong once again pulled Duncan out to the perimeter, then used his lightning-quick first step to blow past him and slash into the paint with ease. The Spurs had no answer.

By the eighth minute of the third quarter, the scoreboard read 77–63—New York leading by 14.

Gregg Popovich had already burned two timeouts earlier in the third. Now, frustrated and pacing, he called his third.

On the broadcast, Bob Costas broke it down with a hint of awe.

"Zhao Dong is just torching them tonight. He's 5-for-6 from the field and a perfect 4-for-4 from the line this quarter alone. That's 14 points in eight minutes—and he's putting a serious dent in San Antonio's interior defense."

Doug Collins nodded in agreement. "Robinson's already got three fouls—all drawn by Zhao Dong. Duncan's also sitting on three, and even Rose off the bench picked up two. Zhao's already drawn ten fouls total and made every single free throw."

Isaiah added, "At this point, it's obvious—one-on-one defense won't cut it. Duncan may be a defensive genius, but Zhao's too fast, too crafty. They've got to double him. No choice."

---

On the Spurs' sideline, Popovich gathered his players with a sharp voice and a game plan.

"We're switching to zone. From now on, it's 2–3 zone defense."

He pointed with intent as he spoke. "If the Knicks run the double-big set with a low-post focus, Tim, you stay high and David, you rotate from the weak side. Cut off that entry pass to the basket. We can gamble a little on the perimeter—let them shoot if they want."

"Understood," Robinson nodded.

Popovich kept going, turning toward the bench. "If they go high-low, we're switching everything. Malik Rose—you're guarding Zhao Dong. Be physical. Chinese players are soft."

Rose nodded, but inwardly scoffed. Soft? That guy elbowed Karl Malone like he was swatting a fly. There's nothing soft about him.

"David," Pop barked again, "if Zhao attacks, rotate immediately. Be aggressive. Be ruthless. Understood?"

"Yes, coach," Robinson responded firmly.

---

On the sidelines, Kobe Bryant sat beside Shaquille O'Neal, watching the Knicks dismantle the Spurs' defense.

"Shaq," Kobe said quietly, eyes fixed on the court, "Zhao Dong's 10-for-10 at the line. You ever wonder how he trains?"

Shaq turned, mildly irritated. The rookie was stirring the pot again.

Kobe met his gaze. He knew the big man wasn't thrilled with the implication—but it had to be said. The Lakers were watching this game instead of playing in it. And honestly? That Western Conference Finals loss still stung.

"If your free throws were just a little better…" Kobe began.

Shaq's face tightened.

"I'm just saying," Kobe added quickly, "how about we train together in the offseason?"

"No way." Shaq shot him down instantly. "I got plans. Beaches. Miami. Bikinis. You can keep your cold gym and sweat."

Kobe didn't give up. "Come on, man. Zhao's building something special in New York. They're talking dynasty. I heard his custom ring has a dragon engraved on it. It's sick."

Shaq smirked. "Then ours should have a big-ass burger and two hot dogs on it."

"…"

Kobe leaned back, shaking his head. How did I end up with this dude as my co-star?

---

Back on the NBC broadcast, Bob Costas returned with his analysis.

"Earlier, the Spurs were keeping pace. But now that Zhao Dong has ramped up his attack, the gap's widening."

Doug Collins added, "It's about efficiency. With the Knicks turning up the heat on both ends, Duncan's post-ups are getting less effective. He can't get deep enough, and it's hurting San Antonio."

Isaiah chimed in, "The Knicks are using the same pull-and-attack strategy they used against the Magic in the regular season. Even Shaq had trouble with it. Once Zhao pulls your big out, it's over—he's too fast. You can't recover."

Bob chuckled. "Zhao Dong's not just some flashy scorer. He's the God of Efficiency for a reason. If San Antonio doesn't slow him down, they won't be winning anything."

Doug nodded. "Duncan said it himself—to stop Zhao, you have to stop him from creating space. Let's see if the Spurs figure it out."

---

The timeout ended. The game resumed.

The Spurs came out with their double-big post set.

On the left block, Duncan tried to establish position. But Zhao Dong stuck to him like glue, denying entry to the paint and forcing Duncan to settle for a face-up.

Zhao knew the math. From more than 10 feet out, Duncan's efficiency dropped significantly. Under 45%—sometimes lower.

But Zhao? Even when double-teamed, he was hitting over 55% from that range.

And that was low for him. In this year's Eastern Conference Finals, the Bulls had blitzed him with hard doubles and held him to just 55% from that zone. It was his worst showing—and still elite.

Back in the post, Duncan caught the ball and tried a quick fake—down, then up—and spun baseline.

Zhao bit on the first move—but recovered instantly. His footwork was elite. As Duncan turned, Zhao slid laterally like lightning and beat him to the spot.

Clang!

Duncan bumped into him, lost control, and the ball squirted loose.

Whistle.

"Turnover!" Bob Costas called. "That's great footwork and anticipation from Zhao Dong!"

"His lateral speed is scary," Doug said. "Duncan shook him, but he still beat him to the spot."

"Zhao's got the fastest feet I've ever seen on a forward," Isaiah added.

---

The Knicks took possession.

Zhang Heli, now calling the domestic broadcast for Chinese audiences, immediately shouted into the mic.

"Oh! The Spurs have switched to a 2–3 zone defense!"

Sun Zhenping followed, "Coach Pop finally made the adjustment. But will it work? That remains to be seen."

Zhao Dong surveyed the court. He called for a high screen, forcing Duncan and Robinson to switch and hesitate.

Quick crossover. Explosive burst. He split the zone and flew down the middle, rising like a rocket.

Boom!

One-hand slam over Malik Rose.

The Garden exploded—Knicks fans losing their minds.

---

Back to the NBC booth, Isaiah stood up.

"Oh my GOD! You see that?! That man is possessed!"

Bob Costas laughed. "Zhao Dong is tearing this defense apart! And he just baptized Rose at the rim."

Doug nodded, half-shocked. "This zone won't hold up long. Pop may need to pull something else out of his bag—or this game is going to get out of hand."

On the court, the Spurs were lined up in a tight 2-3 zone defense.

Tim Duncan was anchored under the rim. David Robinson patrolled the left block. Malik Rose stood at the right block, while two guards hovered near the elbows—eyes sharp, bodies poised.

The Spurs' 2-3 zone prioritized protecting the paint, especially around the basket, but it left the perimeter exposed. It was a gamble Popovich was willing to take.

Zhao Dong slid into the left wing, near the paint. As he moved, Robinson stepped up to meet him.

At the top of the arc, Dazhi had the ball, holding steady.

Down low, Fordson posted up, muscling for position. Sprewell and Billups spaced out wide, dragging the Spurs' perimeter defenders with them. The floor was spread perfectly.

Just like Pop had anticipated, when the Knicks shifted into their high-low double-tower set, Malik Rose rotated up to Dazhi at the top. Duncan remained planted on the right block, guarding the rim.

Zhao Dong lowered his shoulder, planting Robinson with his left arm as he raised his right hand to signal for the ball.

Dazhi didn't hesitate. He lobbed it down—clean, crisp, on target.

Then, just like clockwork, he stayed put at the arc, holding Malik Rose away from the rim and leaving space for Zhao Dong to work.

Catching the ball, Zhao Dong instantly raised it with one hand—a picture-perfect shot fake. Robinson bit, stepping forward.

Zhao exploded past him.

With his first step, he was already inside the paint. Robinson tried to recover, but his first-step defense wasn't what it used to be. Zhao Dong left him in the dust.

From the weak side, Duncan rotated over fast. Robinson sprinted to recover from behind. Both Spurs bigs were trying to trap Zhao Dong under the basket.

But he was already gone.

"I'm ending this in the third quarter."

That was the only thing running through Zhao Dong's mind as he planted, rose, and took flight.

Duncan braced. He thought about stepping forward to draw the charge—but he couldn't. Fordson was right behind him, ready to explode if the ball moved. If Duncan left the rim, it'd be a guaranteed dunk for Fordson.

So he stayed. Positioned just inside the restricted area, arms raised, preparing for the impact.

Duncan launched with everything he had. His 75 cm vertical and 230 cm wingspan allowed him to contest at 283 cm—but Zhao Dong was higher. Stronger. Faster.

BOOM!

Zhao Dong slammed into Duncan mid-air, his shoulder driving into the big man's chest. Duncan grunted, stumbling back, absorbing the full weight of Zhao Dong's fury.

The impact sent Duncan reeling.

But Zhao Dong, with freakish core strength, stabilized mid-air—his waist and abs locking him upright as he recoiled from the hit and straightened again.

BANG!

The rim rattled violently as Zhao Dong threw it down with both hands.

The crowd erupted—an explosion of sound. The arena shook.

Duncan stumbled back, took several steps, nearly fell—but barely stayed upright.

"YEAHHHHHHH!!"

The building was on fire.

Bob Costas on commentary was screaming. "Zhao Dong just dunked all over the No. 1 pick Tim Duncan! Undrafted to unstoppable—this is a statement dunk!"

Doug Collins roared, "That's a power move, a playoff poster! Duncan was right there, and Zhao Dong said 'I don't care!' That's all heart and strength!"

Isaiah laughed in disbelief. "You don't see Duncan get put in the blender like that often. But Zhao Dong? He's rewriting the script."

On CCTV, Zhang Heli's voice echoed. "If Duncan had been able to hold him for just half a second, Robinson could've caught up to help. But Zhao Dong gives you no time. His first step, his elevation—it's unstoppable."

Sun Zhenping nodded. "That's why the Bulls doubled him at the perimeter during the East Finals. If you let him get into the paint, it's game over. The Spurs are gambling too late."

Back on the court, the Spurs inbounded the ball—then immediately called timeout.

"That's a quick timeout," Bob Costas noted. "Popovich clearly saw something he didn't like in that defensive rotation."

Isaiah added, "He's got a problem now. The Knicks aren't just beating them—they're out-spacing them. Dazhi's staying at the arc, and it's pulling their zone apart."

Doug Collins broke it down. "Right now, what was supposed to be a 2-3 zone is slipping into a 3-2. They've got no one to collapse the paint when Duncan rotates. Robinson's getting dragged out, and it's giving Zhao Dong a clear path to the rim."

Zhang Heli broke in on the China feed. "Now the Spurs not only have to deal with Zhao Dong, but Dazhi as well. That high-low combo is lethal. The Spurs' twin towers are getting stretched too thin."

Sun Zhenping laughed, "North Qiao Feng, South Murong—using their own weapons against them!"

Zhang Heli nodded, "Coach Don Nelson is showing why he's a mastermind. With Zhao Dong and Dazhi both able to shoot out to the three-point line, their spacing is better than the Spurs' own version of this tactic. The Knicks' towers are deeper, more versatile."

Sun added, "And the Knicks haven't even fully unleashed their guards yet. Once Zhao Dong and Dazhi create this kind of space, Sprewell and Billups can start slashing. The floodgates are about to open."

(End of Chapter)

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