Chapter 2: The First Hat
Amid all the commentators' sarcastic remarks, the Knicks set up their offense.
Ewing was grinding to get position inside, but Shaq wasn't giving him an inch. Dude was a tank, straight up muscling him out of the paint. Forced to the left wing, Ewing called for the ball, caught it in the low post, pivoted, and let a contested turnaround jumper fly.
Ewing was one of the few elite centers who could reliably hit mid-range shots, but Shaq wasn't just some random big man. His sheer size, freakish wingspan, and explosive athleticism built a defensive wall that was damn near impossible to break.
Meanwhile, the Lakers were running that double-tower lineup. Shaq, 300-plus pounds of pure destruction, was paired with Elden Campbell—a lean 6'11" big at just 216 pounds.
Zhao Dong wasn't some weightroom beast—his max bench was capped at 150 kilos—but his frame was built like a brick house. Campbell? Man was just a twig in his way. Zhao got deep under the basket with no problem.
Ewing's shot clanked off the rim. Ball dropped straight into Zhao's hands.
Boom!
Zhao exploded up, throwing down a vicious two-handed slam. And yeah, he did it right over Shaquille O'Neal.
"Yeahhh!" Zhao roared, adrenaline surging as Madison Square Garden went nuts.
"Hoho! Knicks player No. 46 just put Shaq on a damn poster!" the commentator shouted, his excitement shaking the damn booth.
"Who the hell is this guy?!" the other commentator muttered, cutting his mic and barking at his assistant. "Get me his name! NOW!"
Shaq glanced up at the rim, expression tight as hell while it wobbled from the impact. Wiping sweat from his brow, he jogged back down the court, irritation written all over his face.
On the sidelines, Jeff Van Gundy just gave a small nod. Solid play. But he wasn't focused on the offense—Zhao Dong's real test was whether he could lock shit down on defense.
The Lakers wasted no time setting up their next attack.
Kobe had the rock beyond the arc on the right wing, eyes scanning. Down low, Shaq was working, bullying Ewing in the post like it was personal. The big man threw up a hand, demanding the ball.
Campbell drifted out to the perimeter, pulling Zhao Dong away from the paint, but he wasn't biting too hard. His attention stayed locked between Shaq and Kobe.
The pass zipped inside. Shaq caught it and immediately spun toward the rim like a freight train.
Ewing shoved back, trying to hold his ground, but Shaq's 30-kilo weight advantage wasn't playing fair. Big fella got bulldozed.
Zhao Dong read the play instantly. The second Shaq turned, he darted into position, planting himself right between the Diesel and the basket.
"Here!" Kobe called, slashing into the paint for the dish.
Shaq, recognizing the double, flipped it to him smooth as hell.
Kobe caught it, movements silky. Zhao Dong pivoted sharp, sneakers screeching against the hardwood as he lunged.
Smack!
Zhao's hand met the ball, swatting that shit clean out of bounds before it even had a chance.
"Holy shit!" the commentator screamed. "Zhao Dong just blocked Kobe Bryant! A rookie just stuffed Kobe the 13th overall picked!"
The crowd lost its mind. Even the commentators couldn't hold back.
"Oh my God! This kid ain't scared of nobody," Doug Collins laughed on TNT. "He's locking down the paint like it's his personal fortress!"
Charles Oakley jogged over, grinning. "Damn, kid, you bringing the heat! What's your name?"
"Zhao Dong," he said, chest still heaving. "Back home, they called me the Wolf King. Here? Just a rookie."
"Wolf King, huh?" Oakley chuckled. "Alright, Zhao. Keep that fire burning."
Kobe, standing nearby, wasn't amused at all. Jaw tight, glare locked on Zhao. Getting stuffed by another rookie? That shit wasn't on his agenda tonight.
Zhao met Kobe's stare, eyes full of that I-ain't-backing-down energy.
This wasn't just a game. This was the beginning of a rivalry.
The game kept pushing, the tension getting heavier with every damn play.
By the end of the third, Knicks were down 88–83. Zhao Dong had been hustling, snagging rebounds and getting key stops, but his impact wasn't showing on the stat sheet just yet.
Then came the fourth quarter.
Lakers went right back to the Shaq attack.
Big Diesel got deep position, throwing his weight around like a damn wrecking ball.
Campbell pulled out to the perimeter again, dragging Zhao Dong with him.
The ball found its way to Shaq. Zhao didn't hesitate—sprinted toward the paint, ready to shut it down.
Shaq saw the double, lobbed it to Campbell—dude was wide open.
Screech!
Zhao slammed on the brakes, knees screaming, before exploding back toward Campbell.
Campbell's shot was too flat. Zhao snatched it right out of the air, owning that possession.
"Let's go!" the crowd roared as Zhao pushed the break.
With no passing options, he took it coast-to-coast.
Campbell was trailing, but Jerome Kersey got back, forcing Zhao to pull up at the left-wing three-point line.
Shaq? Already planted deep in the paint, waiting.
Bang... bang...
Zhao dribbled, scanning. Then, in a flash, he exploded past Kersey, slicing straight into the lane.
Shaq anchored himself, ready to shut that shit down.
Zhao Dong didn't hesitate.
He rose up, every ounce of power packed into that jump, meeting Shaq head-on.
BOOM!
The Garden fell silent for half a second.
The rim rattled violently.
Zhao Dong had just dunked on Shaquille O'Neal.
"HOLY SHIT!" the commentator screamed. "Zhao Dong just posterized Shaq! Ladies and gentlemen, we're witnessing the birth of a star!"
The arena ERUPTED.
Zhao landed, chest heaving, eyes burning with intensity.
This was his moment.
His career had just begun, and he was already making history.
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