The score's 5-4. Zhao Dong sinks the free throw, and the Magic take possession. Horace Grant pulls out, dragging Zhao to the right wing. At that moment, Penny Hardaway blows past Charlie Ward, breaking into the right wing.
Zhao steps up to help, leaving Grant an open lane to cut to the basket, signaling for the rock. Penny dishes it before Zhao can close in. Grant catches it and goes for the layup, but Ewing's hustling back, disrupting the shot. In the ensuing scramble, Grant snags the rebound and attempts a quick hook over Ewing.
But Zhao, hustling back on D, comes outta nowhere, swatting the ball against the backboard. The ball ricochets, and he grabs it before it hits the deck.
Grant lunges to contest, but Zhao raises his elbows, protecting the ball. Before he can make a move, Grant suddenly yelps, staggers back, and hits the floor.
"Beep!" The ref's whistle blares. He points at Zhao, calling an offensive foul.
"Keep the ball high! Keep it high!" Coach Van Gundy shouts from the sidelines, visibly frustrated.
"Damn!" Zhao mutters under his breath, handing the ball to the ref. Turning to Oakley and Ewing, he says, "Man, his acting's on point. I didn't even touch him."
"Rookie mistake," Oakley growls. "You should've made contact. Hit him hard, make him think twice. His frame can't handle your power."
"Got it. Next time, I'll make sure he feels it," Zhao nods, determination in his eyes.
"Charles, isn't that a bit much?" Grant asks, getting to his feet, looking uneasy.
"Remember when Karl Malone nearly took Jordan's head off with an elbow and didn't even get a foul? That's a skill. Learn from it," Oakley retorts, ignoring Grant's discomfort.
"Okay, next time, I'll use Jordan as target practice," Zhao responds coldly.
Grant's face tightens, and he walks away, clearly unsettled.
The Magic inbound the ball in the frontcourt.
Nick Anderson pulls up for a jumper but bricks it. The ball bounces Zhao's way. He boxes out Grant, snatches the rebound, and instinctively raises his elbows.
Coach Van Gundy shakes his head on the sidelines, feeling Zhao's not following instructions. He wants Zhao to keep the ball high, but Zhao prefers using his elbows to create space—a risky move that could lead to fouls and turnovers.
Grant sees the elbows and backs off. He knows he can't match Zhao's strength.
Knicks on offense.
After Charlie Ward's earlier turnover, trust is shaky. The ball goes to Ewing.
Ewing's not looking to shoot this time. He passes to Allan Houston.
Zhao's already muscling past Grant, heading to the rim.
"Clank!" Houston's mid-range shot rims out.
Under the basket, Zhao battles Magic center Ben Carle. At 6'11" and 230 pounds, Carle can't match Zhao's power.
Zhao outmuscles Carle, fights off Grant crashing in, and with his superior hops, grabs the offensive board.
Landing, he doesn't wait. Before the double-team can set, he goes back up, slamming it down over Grant.
Grant's got decent shot-blocking skills, but he can't match Zhao's quick second jump. He's late, tries to foul to stop the dunk.
"Boom!" The rim rattles as Grant hits the deck.
"Beautiful! What a play!" Zhang Heli shouts, excitement in his voice.
"The whistle blows, and there's a free throw coming," Sun Zhenping adds with a smile.
Zhao catches his breath, glances coldly at Grant on the floor, then turns to high-five Ewing and Oakley in celebration.
Kobe's jumping ability has really elevated Zhao's game. Before, his second jump wasn't this quick, and Grant's defense might've been more effective.
With top-tier hops, once Zhao's in the paint, defenders like Grant face a tough challenge. They can't match their strength, speed, or vertical. How are they supposed to stop him?
Swish!
Zhao sinks the free throw. 8-4. The Knicks extend their lead on the road.
"Damn, Zhao Dong's got all eight points for the Knicks," Zhang Heli says, fired up. "Back-to-back and-ones! And his free throws are looking smooth."
"Not to mention, Horace Grant's already got two fouls," Sun Zhenping adds. "That's gonna hurt Orlando's defense."
"No doubt," Zhang agrees.
Magic possession.
Penny Hardaway pulls up from deep. Bang! The three-pointer is pure.
The Knicks push back in transition. Zhao's still playing off-ball, crashing the glass, sticking to his game plan.
Van Gundy's cool with it. He trusts Ewing to handle the inside offense, and Zhao's aggressive rebounding gives them second-chance opportunities—something the Knicks desperately need with their shaky shooting.
Ewing pulls up for a mid-range J. The Magic push the other way.
The ball swings left. Grant is lurking on the right wing, suddenly cutting baseline from the weak side.
Zhao doesn't react in time—he's a step slow.
Grant catches a quick feed inside and leaps for the layup.
Right as he extends, a massive hand clamps down on his shoulder, yanking him out of the air.
BAM!
Grant crashes onto the hardwood.
Whistle blows.
The crowd erupts.
"Ohhh!!" The Magic fans let out a collective gasp.
"Damn! Zhao just pulled Grant straight outta the air!" the commentator exclaims. "Is this payback for those two cheap fouls earlier?"
Zhao stands over Grant, ice-cold. "Old man, you like my defense now?"
Last time, the league suspended his task after Garnett got ejected, so he held back. But tonight? After getting hit twice? He's done playing soft.
Grant is laid out, sucking wind, eyes wide.
Magic players swarm in, barking at Zhao.
"Rookie, you tryna kill somebody?!"
"That was dirty as hell, man!"
"You tryna end his career?!"
BOOOOO!
The crowd rains down boos as Oakley shoves his way in, stepping in front of Zhao.
"They tryna throw hands? We're cool with that," Oakley mutters, eyes locked on the Magic players.
Zhao doesn't back down, standing tall. "Y'all were laughing when he was hacking me. Now you mad? Thought y'all liked my defense."
"Shut up! You wanna get T'd up?!" the ref shouts, getting in between.
Grant finally pushes himself up off the floor. His face says it all—he knows he fed up.*
He thought he could mess with Zhao Dong, but this rookie ain't backing down.
And now? The tone of this game has completely changed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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