NBA: The Dynasty Crusher (Basketball)

By the ninth minute of the first quarter, Coach Don Nelson made his first lineup switch.

Barkley and Kevin Willis checked in to anchor the inside. John Wallace slid in at forward, while Sprewell and Zhao Dong handled the backcourt. It was a physical, veteran-heavy rotation designed to grind minutes and preserve the starters.

This unit held the court until the third minute of the second quarter. Then Zhao Dong and Sprewell came out for a breather, and Stackhouse and Ginóbili took over for the rest of the half.

The minute distribution was carefully managed. Zhao Dong and the three guards each played 15 minutes per half, resting 9. Even if they were pushed for full second-half action, they'd only clock 39 minutes—manageable, sustainable, smart.

---

The Knicks closed out the night with a dominant 109–81 win, a 28-point statement to open the season.

Player stats?

Sprewell (Madman): 18 points

Stackhouse: 16 points

Ginóbili: 12 points

Combined: 46 points

Solid, but still room to erupt.

Zhao Dong? He did Zhao Dong things—41 points on elite efficiency.

Yet even with that number, it didn't feel like he hit full gear. The beast hadn't even roared yet.

---

Postgame, NBC broadcast cut to courtside.

Zhao Dong stood for an interview.

"Zhao Dong, is tonight's starting five going to be the standard lineup this season?" asked Knicks reporter, Thomas.

Zhao Dong gave a slight grin.

"Well, you know Coach Nelson. He changes lineups like he changes socks. So… I wouldn't bet on anything being fixed."

"And what's your take on tonight's five?"

Zhao Dong nodded.

"It works against teams with average height. But if we face a long, tall perimeter squad—we'll need to adjust."

"Tonight the Knicks went nine deep, with Gary Trent logging 12 minutes. Thoughts on the rotation?"

Zhao Dong shrugged, still catching his breath.

"I played the most tonight—38 minutes. That's totally fine. With nine guys in the mix, we've got enough depth to squeeze the starters in harder when it counts."

---

Back in the locker room, Zhao Dong changed into his sweats, grabbed his phone, and made his first call.

Dazhi.

The Mavericks had already wrapped up their game, and Wang Zhizhi had gotten the start.

"Brother Dong?"

"Dazhi, how'd you do?"

"Not bad! We won."

"Don't give me that. Gimme the stats."

"Alright." Dazhi chuckled. "I posted up more, pulled out for a few jumpers. Inside I went 4-for-6. Close range, 3-for-7. Midrange, 1-for-3. Total 8-for-16. Hit all 5 of my free throws. 21 points, 7 boards."

Zhao Dong nodded, impressed.

"Solid. 50% shooting is respectable. Tim Duncan was a monster from day one, and his shooting numbers aren't far off. But remember—one game doesn't mean much. What matters is staying consistent."

"Olajuwon said your footwork under the rim was clean. Stick with the low post. Be decisive. Don't shy from contact."

"Got it, Brother Dong."

Zhao Dong leaned back and asked,

"How'd your German teammate do?"

"Dirk? He played well—dropped 19."

Zhao Dong grunted.

"He's not fully grown yet. But once he fills out, he'll be a scoring machine. Problem is, you two have similar styles. If you both float around the arc, the team loses paint presence. If that happens, the front office will make a move—and between you and him, you know who they'll trade."

Dazhi paused, then nodded firmly.

"Understood. I'll pound the post more from now on."

---

After the call, Zhao Dong rang up Hu Weidong, who had just wrapped up his third NBA season opener with the Wizards.

Another strong night.

9-of-19 shooting. 2-of-4 from deep. 4-of-5 at the line. 24 points.

Efficient. Clean. Professional.

They shared a few quick words, but before Zhao Dong could settle down…

Michael Jordan called.

"Zhao! We got the W!"

Zhao Dong grinned.

"Not bad. Not bad. That's a pretty decent squad you've built already."

"Be real with me—do you think we've got potential?"

Zhao Dong chuckled.

"Depends. What'd Stockton do tonight?"

"Nine dimes. Twelve points."

Zhao Dong whistled.

"Still got some juice. But... he's not breaking down defenses like he used to. Nobody's doubling him anymore."

"So… are you saying I should trade him?" Jordan asked, surprised.

"No, no. Where else are you gonna find a floor general with elite defensive instincts?"

Zhao Dong paused, then said half-jokingly:

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just not not saying anything."

Jordan blinked.

"Wait, what?"

After the call ended, Zhao Dong leaned back against his locker.

What he really wanted to tell Dazhi was simple—he and Dirk together had no interior defense. Offensively skilled? Sure. But without a defensive big in the mix, that Mavericks frontcourt would be shredded by someone like Tim Duncan.

He held back, though. Say that out loud, and the Mavericks might ship Dazhi out by December.

Still, if Dazhi did get traded, it wasn't the end of the world. He had starter-level talent and could easily land on any rebuilding team. The key was fit.

He needed a defensive power forward beside him—someone who could protect the rim and do the dirty work. Conversely, Dirk needed a strong defensive center to cover for his lack of physicality. Otherwise, the overlap would be a ticking time bomb.

---

At the postgame press conference, a Miami reporter raised his hand.

"Zhao Dong, what's your take on this current Heat roster?"

Zhao Dong didn't hesitate.

"They'll make the playoffs, sure. But as for chasing a title? No chance. Coach Pat Riley's going to break this team up. Rebuilding is inevitable."

It wasn't shade—it was fact.

Zhao knew Mourning's kidneys were a time bomb. Once Zo declined, Miami's ceiling collapsed. No elite core, no future.

---

November 3rd – Off Day for the Knicks

The Knicks had no game, but Zhao Dong was already scouting.

Their second game would be at home against the Cavaliers. But tonight? Tonight was about another player.

The Lakers were hosting the Nets at the brand-new Staples Center.

Zhao Dong turned on the TV, locked in on NBC, then pulled out his phone and called Yao Ming.

"Brother Dong," came Yao's voice.

"Yao, how's it going with Marbury?"

Zhao knew it was crucial for a center to get touches. If the chemistry with the point guard was off, a big man's impact was neutered before it even began.

"We're okay. Had a few good conversations. He joked that you lied to him though, haha."

Zhao burst out laughing.

"That idiot."

They shared a few more words before hanging up. Tonight was Yao Ming's NBA debut. Compared to his debut in Zhao Dong's past life, this version came two years later—older, stronger, better.

Zhao believed it: this Yao was a different beast. If the media gave him space, he could drop a monster debut.

Only one problem…

He was about to go toe-to-toe with Shaquille O'Neal.

The most dominant big in the league.

That wasn't just a debut—that was a baptism by fire.

Even worse, Zhao wasn't sure how many touches Yao would get. Marbury wasn't exactly known for sharing the ball.

He hesitated, then dialed Marbury's number.

---

In the visiting locker room at Staples Center…

Marbury glanced at his phone. The screen flashed:

ZHAO DONG

His eyes widened.

Zhao had never called him directly before.

"Yo, Zhao?"

"Stephen, my little bro Yao is on your squad now. Don't freeze him out. I'm watching tonight."

Marbury laughed.

"Come on, Zhao. Yao's my guy too. I got him. He's gonna get touches. It's his debut—he can shoot as much as he wants."

"Good." Zhao chuckled. "You're back in New York sometime, dinner's on me."

He hung up.

---

Starting Lineups – Staples Center

Lakers:

C: Shaquille O'Neal

PF: Ben Wallace

SF: Glen Rice

SG: Kobe Bryant

PG: Ron Harper

Nets:

C: Yao Ming

PF: Keith Van Horn

SF: Corey Kidds

SG: Kendall Gill

PG: Stephon Marbury

The Nets, like the Knicks, ran a three-guard lineup and lacked a legit small forward. The Lakers? Balanced and lethal.

L.A. had just christened Staples Center last month. Tonight marked the first official NBA game in their new home.

NBC's commentary team was Hubie Brown and Steve Cook.

---

On CCTV, Su Qun introduced the game:

"Fans might not know Yao Ming well yet. He's the No. 1 pick, yes, but he's also China's pride. He played in the National Games, and now he's here—NBA debut."

Zhang Heli chimed in with a laugh.

"Oh, they know him, alright. He's Zhao Dong's billion-dollar endorser! His Zhao Dong Sports billboards are everywhere. And let's not forget—it was Zhao Dong who helped bring Yao over and get him into the NCAA. Without Zhao, Yao might still be in Shanghai."

---

Back on NBC, the American broadcast buzzed with anticipation.

"As the top pick, expectations are sky high," Hubie Brown said.

"Yao was dominant in college. He's got a soft touch, great footwork, and a mid-range jumper Shaq wishes he had."

Steve Cook raised a brow.

"Wanna bet? I say he doesn't break 20 points tonight."

Hubie chuckled, but paused.

Twenty wasn't easy, especially against Shaq, and especially when Marbury was the one running the offense.

Even Tim Duncan, already near his peak as a rookie, had just 15 points in his debut—on only nine shots.

"It depends on how many shots he gets," Hubie finally said.

"And with Marbury holding the ball most of the time… who knows?"

"Cook, you're not high on the kid?" Hubie Brown asked with a raised brow.

Cook smiled. "Nah, don't get me wrong. Yao was brought over by Zhao Dong from China. He's someone Zhao's really invested in. Kid was a monster in the NCAA—won the title as the core. How could I not believe in him? But this is his first NBA game. There's gonna be an adjustment curve."

Hubie nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah… Dropping 20 in your debut? That's tough."

Cook smirked. "Scared to bet on it?"

Hubie chuckled. "What's the wager?"

"Dinner on you. Best restaurant in L.A."

"Deal," Hubie said, laughing as they shook on it.

---

In the visiting team's locker room, CCTV reporter Yang Yi entered, camera trailing behind. He crouched in front of Yao Ming, who was lacing up his shoes.

"Yao Ming, how're you feeling before your NBA debut?"

Yao, freshly 19, lit up with a boyish grin. "I'm excited. Been waiting for this."

"Do you think you're ready for the NBA level?"

"Absolutely," Yao nodded with quiet confidence.

That was the kind of answer that came from someone who'd trained like a man possessed. After arriving in the U.S. from China, his parents and Zhang Mingji had done everything for him. Zhao Dong even handed him a sponsorship deal that felt too good to be true, and brought in The Dream—Hakeem Olajuwon—to mentor him. There was no room for hesitation. He had to adapt. He would adapt.

Another reporter chimed in, "Yao, who do you think this Nets team belongs to?"

Yao hesitated. Not an easy question. Marbury was talented, no doubt. But from what he'd seen, the guy hadn't fully integrated into the team. Too much iso play, too little ball movement. Sure, he averaged 8.7 assists last season—but the ball lived in his hands.

Still, he couldn't exactly throw Marbury under the bus. So, he answered with a diplomat's grace:

"Steve played at an All-Star level last year. He's our strongest player, and he's naturally the core of the team."

Marbury, seated a few lockers down, caught the comment and grinned. He liked that answer.

Then the same reporter turned to him. "Steve, is this your team?"

Marbury glanced at the mic—Los Angeles Sports Daily. His smirk faded into something cold.

"Of course this is my team. Whose else would it be?"

The reporter gave a wry smile and backed off.

Once they left, Marbury waved Yao over. "Yo, Yao. Zhao Dong just called you?"

"I've played against you before. Brother Dong said you're a good dude… and that you'd pass me the rock."

Marbury cracked up and clapped Yao on the shoulder. "He hit me too, man. Don't worry, I got you. I'll feed you tonight."

He wasn't kidding either. Marbury had dreams of getting back to New York, joining the Knicks' Gentlemen's Team. But without Zhao Dong's approval? No shot.

"Thanks, Steve," Yao said, smiling sincerely.

---

Meanwhile, the Lakers' locker room was buzzing. New arena. Upgraded locker room. Everything felt fresh.

As the elder statesman, Shaq had claimed the locker nearest the door. When reporters swarmed in, they naturally gathered around him.

"Shaq, Zhao Dong gave Duncan the business during his rookie season. Tonight you're facing Yao Ming—the No. 1 pick. You gonna give him the same welcome?"

Shaq chuckled and leaned toward the reporter with a mischievous grin. "What do you think?"

Your sister, the reporter grumbled in his head, but played along.

"Honestly? I think you're scared. Hurt Yao and Zhao Dong will come for you."

Shaq's smile disappeared. "He better not try me."

"Zhao's playing center this season," the reporter pushed. "You really think he's afraid of a little contact?"

"He's been dodging me ever since he hit the league," Shaq growled.

"So… will you crush the rookie tonight?"

"Tell Zhao Dong," Shaq barked, "I'm gonna train his protégé myself."

"Got it," the reporter grinned.

---

Twenty minutes later, the players gathered in the tunnel.

"Yao!"

"Ben!"

Ben Wallace grinned as he dapped up his fellow big man. Both had been brought in under Zhao Dong's umbrella. Both were loyal to him.

Then came Shaq, towering and curious. "Hey, big guy. How tall are you?"

"Two hundred twenty-six," Yao replied with a polite smile. In truth, he'd already hit 229 cm.

"Your English is tight," Shaq said with a grin.

"Thanks."

Shaq leaned in, playful. "Got a nickname yet?"

"Uh… no."

Shaq's eyes lit up. "Man, everyone's gotta have one! I'm Big Diesel, The Big Aristotle, Big Cactus, Big Broom…"

Kobe, nearby, facepalmed. Please stop embarrassing us, Shaq.

"You should get one. Something that screams your vibe," Shaq advised.

"Uh… I'll think about it," Yao mumbled.

Shaq wasn't done. "How about... Coat Rack? Big Telephone Pole?"

Yao's expression darkened. Is this guy serious?

Then suddenly, Shaq growled. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson tonight, kid."

"Huh? Why?" Yao blinked.

"Because Zhao Dong gave Duncan that work. So I'm giving you the lesson tonight!"

Yao was speechless. Bro, if you want beef with Zhao Dong, take it up with him, not me…

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