"Bang!"
Sure enough, Ewing's first shot clanked off the rim—too short. The ball bounced back to the left wing.
"Bang!"
Zhao Dong took two steps forward and snatched the rebound.
Shawn Kemp was stuck to his side, not in the best rebounding position, so he quickly moved behind Zhao Dong to prevent him from turning.
At the same time, Sonics center Jim McIlvaine, who had turned to grab the board, rushed over to double-team Zhao Dong.
Zhao Dong was still a rookie, so he didn't get double-teamed under the basket much—but today was different.
"Bang!"
Kemp elbowed him from behind, causing his body to stiffen up for a split second. McIlvaine took advantage, reaching in to strip the ball.
"Shit!"
Zhao Dong wasn't the type to back down. If you got physical, he'd get nastier. If you got rough, he'd get ruthless. If you wanted war, he'd bring it. Two guys double-teaming him and Kemp throwing elbows? That just pissed him off.
Protecting the ball with both hands near his chest and stomach, he suddenly spun left, swinging his elbows wide. His right elbow smacked McIlvaine's hand away, breaking the steal attempt. His left elbow drilled Kemp right in the gut, forcing him to stumble back.
Double-team? Gone.
"Bang!"
As Kemp lost balance, Zhao Dong put the ball on the floor, took a hard step past him, and exploded upward.
Kemp quickly gathered himself and jumped to contest, but he wasn't fully set. His timing was off, and he didn't get high enough. His hand only managed to slap Zhao Dong's right forearm.
"Boom!"
A thunderous slam shook the rim.
The crowd erupted.
"Beep!"
The whistle followed immediately.
"Oh my god! That's a monster jam! Zhao Dong just baptized Shawn Kemp! He put him straight in the blender!" The live commentator's voice boomed through Madison Square Garden.
Zhao Dong hung on the rim, his cold stare locked onto Kemp, who was right beneath him. Flashes from media cameras popped like fireworks behind the baseline.
Finally, he dropped down. Kemp climbed to his feet, and the two squared up under the basket. The tension was thick.
"Kid, get the fuck outta here!"
Getting posterized by a rookie? That was a nightmare for Kemp, one of the league's top dunkers. His pride was shattered, and he was fuming.
"If you got the balls, swing on me, No. 40," Zhao Dong said, unfazed.
"The hell did you say?"
Kemp nearly lost it. If he had the guts to throw hands with Dennis Rodman, why would he back down now?
"Yo, Shawn! Don't take the bait!" Gary Payton sprinted over, stepping between them.
Zhao Dong smirked, backing up toward defense. "I'll dunk on you again, dumbass."
"Motherfucker!" Kemp raged.
"Leave it, man!"
Payton held Kemp back, cursing at Zhao Dong's retreating figure. "This damn rookie is just messing with you, just like Rodman!"
And he was dead right. Zhao Dong was in Kemp's head now.
He knew Kemp's weakness—the same reason the dude wasn't the No. 1 pick in '89. The Sonics got him at 17 because teams were worried about his mental game. Zhao Dong was going straight for that weak spot.
"This kid got some dog in him," Knicks superfan Spike Lee said courtside.
"But Kemp's gonna return the favor. He's the best dunker in the league. Who the hell is that kid, anyway? Is he Korean? Japanese? I like Japanese players more," said a random spectator.
"Nah, he's Chinese. His name's Zhao Dong," Spike Lee corrected.
"Chinese?" The guy looked surprised.
Meanwhile, over in a hotel room in L.A., Jordan and Pippen were watching the game.
"That was lucky," Pippen said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, no way Kemp lets that slide. He's gonna dunk it right back," Jordan added.
Back on the court, Zhao Dong stepped up for his free throw and knocked it down. Sonics' ball.
He knew how Seattle played. Their center, McIlvaine, was soft as hell—their weakest link. Ewing was a monster defensively, so the Sonics rarely ran plays through their center. Instead, Kemp was the primary inside scorer.
Kemp had an elite post game and a lethal face-up attack. Hell, his rim aggression was stronger than prime Amare Stoudemire.
And, of course, his chemistry with Payton was unreal. Their alley-oops were must-see TV. That meant Zhao Dong had his hands full tonight.
Payton brought the ball up the left wing. He turned his back on Charles Oakley, backing him down while scanning the court.
Kemp wasn't in the paint—he was hanging out beyond the three-point line.
Zhao Dong knew Kemp's tendencies. About 37% of his shots came at the rim, mostly dunks, with a 50% conversion rate. Another 44% were long two-pointers, where he shot around 40%. Mid-range and close-range shots? Those were weak points—barely over 20%.
That meant Kemp could stretch the floor but was deadliest when slashing inside.
Zhao Dong had to step out to contest his jumper.
Just then, Kemp made his move. He cut hard from the weak side, sprinting toward the basket.
"Shit!"
Zhao Dong had overplayed the right side, leaving a gap. He tried to recover, but it was too late.
Payton saw it instantly. The moment Kemp hit the paint, he whipped a pass his way.
Kemp caught it in stride, took one monster step, and launched himself.
Ewing, now 34 and with miles on his legs, saw that freight train coming and made a business decision. He didn't contest.
"Boom!"
The Knicks' rim exploded.
Zhao Dong had rotated over, but he was a step too slow. No chance to stop it.
"OHHHH!"
Kemp came down flexing, arms raised high, yelling at Zhao Dong and Ewing. His energy was off the charts.
This was his signature move—dunk on you, then talk shit. That's what he lived for.
"BOOOOO!"
The Garden crowd rained down boos.
"See that, Spike? That's Kemp's answer to your boy!" Doug Collins laughed on commentary.
"But Zhao Dong's gonna get him back!" Spike Lee shot back.
"Reign Man's about to go crazy now," Jordan said, still watching from L.A.
This game was just getting started.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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