At Oakland Arena, the starting lineups were announced, and the bench players got into their warm-up routines.
Knicks: Patrick Ewing, Zhao Dong, Charles Oakley, Allan Houston, Charlie Ward
Warriors: Todd Fuller, Joe Smith, Chris Mullin, Latrell Sprewell, Mark Price
Warriors coach Rick Adelman had been running the show since last season, but they still failed to make the playoffs.
Golden State had a solid lineup. Chris Mullin, a future Hall of Famer and All-Star, wasn't in his prime anymore but was still a bucket-getter. Latrell Sprewell was a walking highlight reel, bringing serious energy. And Mark Price? Dude was a cold-blooded sniper and an All-NBA point guard.
After the lineups were set, a few reporters got access to the Knicks' locker room for interviews.
"Zhao Dong, word on the street is Jordan blocked the Bulls from signing you. What's your take?" a reporter asked.
Zhao Dong smirked. He'd thrown that rumor out there himself to stir the pot for Jordan and the Bulls.
"Oh yeah? MJ, huh?" Zhao said, playing dumb. "Man, if I had the power to mess with the Bulls, I'd do it just for fun."
"Chicago media claims Jordan pressured management because of his beef with Jerry Krause—even though you had no issues with him. That's why you got cut," the reporter pressed.
"Damn shame, ain't it? If that's true, Jordan fumbled hard," Zhao Dong said, shaking his head.
"Do you think you deserved a spot with the Bulls?" another reporter asked.
"Bruh, Krause had already offered me a deal. I didn't even have an agent yet—was just about to sign when, boom, I got the boot. At first, I didn't even know what happened. It wasn't till the media started digging that I put two and two together," Zhao explained.
"How can you be so sure it was Jordan? What if the media got it wrong?" the reporter challenged.
"Oh, I'm sure," Zhao Dong shot back. "But hey, if you don't believe me, go ask MJ yourself. Not that he'll ever admit it—man's got too much pride for that."
"Funny you say that," the reporter chuckled. "We just interviewed him. He denied everything."
"Yeah, figures. Straight-up lying," Zhao Dong scoffed.
---
Meanwhile, courtside, Chinese commentators Zhang Lili and Sun Zhenping were scanning the court.
"Where's Zhao Dong? He should be in the 12-man squad, right?" Zhang Lili wondered.
"Maybe he got the starting nod since Larry Johnson's out?" Sun Zhenping guessed, eyes narrowing.
"No way… really?" Zhang Lili looked just as shocked.
As the players lined up, they finally spotted Zhao Dong.
"Oakley... Allan Houston... Zhao Dong!"
Zhao Dong sprinted onto the court, hyped as hell.
"Yo! My guy is starting tonight!" Zhang Lili yelled.
"Zhao Dong, Zhao Dong!" Sun Zhenping waved from the sidelines.
Zhao Dong spotted them and jogged over. "Sir Sun, Sir Zhang! What's up?"
"We're in the Bay, figured we'd check it out," Sun Zhenping laughed.
"Congrats on blocking Kobe twice last game! That was wild!" Zhang Lili said, grinning.
"Ain't no big deal. He's just a rookie," Zhao Dong shrugged.
Zhang Lili and Sun Zhenping exchanged glances.
"Man, that's not what I meant," Zhang Lili thought, holding back a chuckle. "This dude always takes things so literally."
---
After warm-ups, the game tipped off. Ewing won the jump ball, and the Knicks went straight to work.
Zhao Dong set up in the low post on the right block—his zone.
He knew how this worked. As a ten-day contract guy, he wasn't getting many touches. His job? Hustle, defense, and making the most of every damn second.
His first real shot came off an offensive rebound.
The system had given him ten different rebounding techniques and three dunking options. With a 60% shot success rate inside, he focused on high-percentage finishes near the rim.
Ewing's paint shooting? Streaky—30% at the rim. But his mid-range was money, hitting at 70%. That meant he'd be bricking a few inside, leaving Zhao Dong with plenty of chances to clean up.
So, he played smart—stayed in the paint, boxed out, and waited for his moment.
Joe Smith was decent, but Zhao Dong wasn't sweating him. Strength-wise? No contest. Joe couldn't match his power in the post.
Ewing went for a turnaround jumper—bricked it hard off the rim.
Zhao Dong was already in position, sealing off Smith with his body. "Nah, this one's mine."
Boom. Offensive rebound secured.
Joe Smith quickly adjusted, trying to regain position.
"Yo, rookie! Over here!" Ewing called, hands up for a pass.
But Zhao Dong wasn't giving it up. He was right under the hoop with Smith on him. No way he was passing this up.
"Watch this."
One power dribble.
Then—bam!—he bulldozed his shoulder into Smith's chest, knocking him back.
Smith lost his balance for a split second—that was all Zhao needed.
Quick spin. Left hand palmed Smith's head, keeping him low. Right hand? Hammered it home.
"BOOM!" The rim shook violently.
"Ohhh damn!" Ewing and Oakley yelled, hyped as hell. The Knicks' bench exploded.
"That was a monster slam!" Sun Zhenping and Zhang Lili hollered from the booth.
"Joe Smith just got put on a damn poster! Zhao Dong just baptized him!" the game commentator screamed into the mic.
Van Gundy and assistant coach Neil Grant shared a look. They'd noticed Zhao Dong's vertical before, but now? There was no doubt—it had to be well over 62 cm.
---
The Warriors weren't about to let that slide.
"Mark, get me the damn ball!" Joe Smith barked, moving to the top of the key.
Dude was heated. Getting dunked on by a rookie? And not just any rookie—an undrafted Chinese dude on a ten-day contract? That was a bad look.
Joe Smith was dead set on revenge.
He didn't just want to score.
He wanted to dunk Zhao Dong into the ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Do you want to read Advanced Chapters?
Visit this link:
Påtreon.com/Fanficlord03