Zhao Dong wasn't buying Pat Riley's act. No way. He wasn't some clueless rookie.
Ewing was gonna be out next season with a serious injury. That meant Zhao Dong would slide into the team's core role with no resistance. Eventually, Ewing and Oakley were gonna be traded, leaving him as the Knicks' undisputed locker room leader. No need to force it now.
His game actually meshed well with Ewing's. One worked outside, the other dominated the paint. No real conflict in playstyles.
Ball possession? Not a big issue. He could step outside when needed—no need to battle Ewing in the post. And on the perimeter? Please. Ain't nobody matching his strength or impact, not even Oakley. Alan Houston could hang for now, but in the long run? He'd take over.
With Ewing still the face of the team, Zhao Dong had no pressure. If they flopped? That was all on Ewing.
Zhao Dong took note of his teammates' form, especially Ewing and Houston—their main shot-takers.
Man, Ewing looked washed. Dude was settling for jumpers all night, barely getting off the ground. Two quarters in, he was 1-for-13. That's straight-up ugly.
Houston? He stuck to his outside game, avoiding the paint entirely. His shooting was decent, 5-for-10, but he wasn't putting pressure on the defense. No rim attacks, no inside presence.
If your top two scorers ain't attacking the paint, the opposing bigs can just chill. No threat inside meant defenses had no reason to collapse. How the hell were they supposed to win like that?
"Coach, my wrist's messed up," Ewing muttered.
Van Gundy nodded. "Then focus on defense tonight. You gotta lock up Mourning."
"I got it," Ewing said, but his tone didn't sound too convincing.
Knicks vs. Heat - Game Night
Miami Heat Starting Five:
Alonzo Mourning
P.J. Brown
Dan Majerle
Sasha
Tim Hardaway
Knicks Starting Five:
Ewing
Zhao Dong
Oakley
Alan Houston
Charlie Ward
Zhao Dong already had a read on his matchup, P.J. Brown—a lanky 6'11", 225-pound dude.
Decent mid-range jumper. Solid post defender. Aggressive on the boards. Averaged nearly three offensive rebounds a game. Plus, he had a rep for playing dirty—real physical inside.
He was basically the blueprint for guys like Draymond Green years later.
Still, Zhao Dong wasn't worried about him. His real focus? Mourning. Dude was a beast. Strong as hell, built like a tank, and tough as nails. Zhao Dong lived for these kinds of matchups.
"Beating guys like this is how I level up," he thought, eyeing his target.
Mourning caught him staring and walked up. "What you lookin' at, boy?"
Zhao Dong smirked. "Just watching a superstar at work."
Mourning blinked, then laughed, turning to his teammates. "See? That's how the Chinese are—always so damn humble."
Tim Hardaway was about to laugh too, but his face suddenly froze.
"Yo, watch out!" Hardaway yelled.
"What?" Mourning turned, confused.
BOOM!
A massive fist slammed into Mourning's gut, folding him like a damn lawn chair.
"UGH!" He doubled over, clutching his stomach in agony.
Zhao Dong wasn't playing around. "F*** you talkin' about? I show respect, and you think you can clown me? You been O'Neal's punching bag for years, man. Wake up."
Everyone—players, coaches, even the security—stood there in shock.
"OH SHIT!" Mourning's eyes flared with rage as he regained his breath.
He roared, lunging at Zhao Dong.
BAM! Mourning slammed him against the wall, pinning him with one hand. He pulled back his other fist, ready to swing.
THUD!
Before he could connect, Zhao Dong drove his knee into Mourning's stomach, sending him crumbling again.
"You don't get it, do you?" Zhao Dong snarled. "I fought my way to the top. I ain't some soft-ass rookie. I called you a superstar outta respect, but you wanna act tough? Nah, f*** that."
Mourning hit the ground, gasping for air. Zhao Dong spat on him for good measure.
"PUHAHA!"
A loud laugh broke the silence. It was Larry Johnson, an amateur boxer himself.
Oakley and Ewing joined in, howling with laughter.
"Zhao Dong, chill! We still got a game!" Security finally rushed in, separating them.
Mourning struggled to his feet, eyes burning with rage. He wanted blood.
Oakley stepped up, pointing straight at his face. "Boy, you f***ed up. Zhao Dong gave you respect, and you clowned him? AND his people? That's foul as hell. You tryna get canceled, dumbass?"
Mourning's face twisted. That s*** would not look good in the media.
"You got what you deserved," Oakley continued. "You mess with Zhao Dong again, you gonna get your ass beat again."
Security pushed Mourning back as the visiting team was called onto the court. He lowered his head and stormed out.
As he disappeared down the tunnel, the Knicks bench exploded into laughter.
"Rookie, you got a death wish, huh?" Charlie Ward chuckled.
Zhao Dong just grinned. "If they ain't respectin' you, make 'em."
Mourning, now on the court, clenched his fists as he heard their laughter.
"F***ing rookie, I swear I'll make him pay," he muttered.
As the home team stepped onto the court, Pat Riley made his way toward Ewing, greeting him warmly.
"Patrick! Good to see you, man. How you holdin' up?"
"Hey Pat, I'm good," Ewing replied.
Riley gave him a quick nod, then turned straight to Zhao Dong, completely ignoring Ewing.
"Hey, Zhao Dong," Riley extended his hand.
Zhao Dong shook it firmly. "Coach Riley."
"You've been hoopin'. Solid rookie season so far," Riley said with a sly smile.
Zhao Dong shook his head. "Nah, I'm just gettin' started. Compared to legends like Patrick and Magic? My rookie season ain't s***."
Riley raised an eyebrow. "Humble, huh?"
Zhao Dong grinned. "We Chinese value humility. We win people over with virtue."
Ewing nearly choked, letting out a loud laugh.
Riley smirked. "I like your mindset. Hope we get to work together someday."
Zhao Dong nodded. "Wouldn't mind that at all, Coach."
Riley gave him a final look before heading back to the Heat bench.
Ewing nudged Zhao Dong. "Man, you full of s***, talkin' about humility when you just folded Mourning like a chair."
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Hey, I gave him one chance. He f***ed it up."
Oakley patted his shoulder. "Welcome to the league, kid."
The game was about to tip off. And Zhao Dong? He was ready.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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