Looking back, Webber had the ball in the high post. This time, Zhao Dong played up on him, sticking close and not giving him space to rise up for a jumper, forcing him to dribble backward.
Just as Zhao Dong followed up, Webber hit a quick change of direction and exploded toward the basket.
That was one of his go-to moves. If he couldn't get off a straight-arm jumper from the high post, he'd instantly shift into a three-step drive and throw it down at the rim.
But Zhao Dong knew Webber inside and out. In a few years, he'd be the heart and soul of the Kings, and Zhao Dong had studied his game. The moment Webber put the ball on the floor, Zhao Dong turned and stayed with him.
Webber took just one dribble before gathering, taking two steps, and taking off for a tomahawk slam.
He was sure he'd left Zhao Dong behind—no way the defender was catching up. He went up strong, ready to throw it down—
Smack!
Zhao Dong's hand came from behind and swatted the ball away before it even touched the rim.
"What?!"
Webber lost his balance midair and crashed to the floor under the basket.
"Yeah! Zhao Dong with the first block of the game! He sent Webber straight to the hardwood!" the commentator roared.
The ball bounced loose, and Zhao Dong snatched it up, instantly pushing a fast break.
Webber was still on the ground, and George couldn't keep up. The Knicks were running a numbers advantage.
Zhao Dong wasn't about to pass up this kind of fast break. With his power and speed, nobody was stepping in front of him—unless they wanted to get bulldozed. He drove hard, took flight, and—
Bang!
A vicious tomahawk slam rattled the Bullets' basket.
Coming back down the court, a pissed-off Webber called for the ball in the low post, looking to get his revenge.
He caught it with his back to the basket and made a quick spin toward the baseline. Zhao Dong misread the move and started retreating—
Stop. Pop. Bucket.
Webber pulled up smoothly and drained the mid-range jumper.
Zhao Dong frowned. Today's tasks weren't going to be easy. Webber had already put up two buckets, making it impossible to completely shut him down.
He analyzed the situation.
His inside defense was sitting at an 84—solid, but not elite. His strength, speed, and size gave him an edge over guys with simpler skill sets, like Shawn Kemp and Alonzo Mourning. But Webber was different. He had a complete offensive bag and wasn't lacking in size or strength either.
The only real advantage Zhao Dong had? He knew Webber's game, but Webber didn't know his.
If there was another edge, it was attitude. Zhao Dong would fight harder.
But defense was defense. On offense, though? That was a different story.
His low-post game was a gold medal skill, better than Webber's. He could go to work without needing a double team.
At least, that's what he thought.
The Bullets weren't doubling him—but the guy guarding him wasn't Webber. It was Ewing.
Ewing had a rough night: 7-for-21 from the field, just 33.3%. He never got to the rim, only drawing two free throws. In 32 minutes, he finished with 15 points, 8 boards, 2 dimes, 3 blocks, 4 turnovers, and 5 fouls. Another off night.
Last season, he averaged 19.2 shots per game, but this year, that number had dropped to 17. It was clear his stamina and overall form were starting to slip.
Tonight, though? He jacked up 21 shots. Those extra attempts? The ones he normally wouldn't take? They came at Zhao Dong's expense.
Over the past three games, Ewing had taken 20 shots each night. This wasn't new.
Meanwhile, Zhao Dong only got 11 shots all game—four of them off his own offensive rebounds. He finished with 8 makes, 5-for-6 from the line, and posted 21 points, 11 rebounds, 1 assist, 1 steal, 4 blocks, 2 turnovers, and 5 fouls in 33 minutes.
The Knicks took the win since the Bullets weren't a real threat, and Zhao Dong took home Player of the Game honors.
Webber ended up 6-for-14 from the field, 6-for-8 from the line, finishing with 18 points and 8 rebounds—just enough to mess up Zhao Dong's task goals.
He missed out on all three defensive objectives. On top of that, he only blocked Webber three times, so he only completed two mission options and got no rewards.
But the biggest takeaway?
His defense wasn't enough. It wasn't a lack of shot attempts that hurt him—it was the fact that he couldn't lock down Webber. His defensive impact wasn't at the level it needed to be.
Every sniper mission in his system required heavy defense. If he wanted to snipe Jordan—the most unstoppable scorer in the league—he needed elite defense.
After the game, he took an on-court interview.
"Zhao Dong, you only took 11 shots tonight. Meanwhile, Ewing took 21. What's your take on that?" a New York Sports Daily reporter asked.
"It's 'cause Patrick's got gravity," Zhao Dong said. "When he's on the floor, defenses load up on him, which frees me up. That's what superstars do—they pull defenders."
He knew how the New York media worked. When things were good, they'd hype you up. When things were bad, they'd bury you. He had to be real careful with his answers.
"Do you see yourself as the future core of this team after Ewing?" another reporter asked.
"Who wouldn't wanna be the guy?" Zhao Dong said. "But the main thing is keeping the locker room solid. That's what matters most."
"Zhao Dong, what do you think of Webber's performance tonight?" Zhang Heli asked.
"My defense on him was mid, to be honest," Zhao Dong admitted with a grin. "I didn't lock him up like I wanted to. But Webber's like me—you can defend all you want, he's still gonna score."
"How does your low-post game compare to Webber's?" Sun Zhenping asked.
Zhao Dong thought for a moment.
"He's not a full-time low-post guy. His high-post game is deadly, but down low? I think I got him beat. The numbers tonight back that up."
A New York Times reporter jumped in. "You sound confident, but if teams start double-teaming you, will you still be as effective?"
"If I get doubled, my efficiency's gonna drop, sure. But my confidence? That won't."
"When do you think teams will start sending doubles at you?"
Zhao Dong smirked. "Soon."
After that, he hit the post-game press conference.
A New York Sports reporter asked Coach Van Gundy, "Ewing struggled again tonight, but his shot attempts went up while Zhao Dong had only 11. Will you adjust that next game?"
Van Gundy knew how the New York media worked. These guys didn't care about the Knicks—they just wanted drama. They were more ruthless than the rival teams' media.
"Patrick's just trying to find his rhythm," Van Gundy said. "He's the core of this team, and I know he and Zhao Dong will communicate well."
Zhao Dong, sitting nearby, held back a laugh.
"Man, Ewing barely talks unless it's about women. Dude's as stiff as a statue."
Next to him, Ewing just sat there, head down, deep in thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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