On CCTV's live broadcast, Zhang Heli nodded and said, "That's the end of the first quarter. 18-28, the Jazz are down by 10."
Sun Zhenping chuckled. "Zhao Dong played a hell of a first quarter—solid on both ends. Let's see if he keeps that energy in the next one."
"Man, after Karl Malone checked out, you could see him breathe a little easier. Malone was throwing elbows all over the place, and I swear he was kneeing him on purpose. I even caught him stepping on Zhao Dong a few times! Dude plays dirty as hell," Zhang Heli said.
"Yeah, playing that physical against Zhao Dong is gonna backfire," Sun Zhenping agreed.
Over on NBC, Doug Collins had been staring at Zhao Dong's stat line for a while before shaking his head. "Zhao Dong is putting on a damn show tonight! The Jazz can't even send a double at him because he's torching them from the outside."
"Six-for-eight shooting. That's elite efficiency," Marv Albert nodded.
"He's working the low post like a damn surgeon, man. Every move shakes his defender just enough to give him clean looks. If he keeps playing like this, we're not talking All-Star level—we're talking top-tier post skills," Collins said with a serious tone.
"Top-tier?" Marv Albert raised an eyebrow, then thought for a second. "Gotta see more games at this level first."
Collins nodded, then compared Zhao Dong's numbers with Karl Malone's. Shaking his head, he sighed. "Man, the New York media's been ripping Zhao Dong apart the last few days, but after this game? They're about to ride his wave all the way to the sky."
"Yeah, sounds about right," Marv Albert laughed.
Meanwhile, news of the pregame scuffle between the Jazz and Knicks had spread worldwide.
In Chicago, the Bulls and Lakers had just wrapped up the first quarter, and both teams were back on their benches.
"Pfft—cough, cough..."
Michael Jordan nearly choked on his water when he heard about the Knicks-Jazz game—specifically, that Karl Malone got rocked so bad he had bruises all over his face.
He'd caught his fair share of Malone's elbows before—not enough to do serious damage, but enough to know how nasty they were. So when he heard Zhao Dong had given him a taste of his own medicine? Yeah, he was surprised.
Hell, if he knew what was coming in 1998—when Malone would damn near break his face with an elbow—he'd be grinning ear to ear right now.
---
In the second quarter, Zhao Dong checked back in at the 6-minute mark—same time as Karl Malone. Van Gundy made sure to send him in immediately.
The score sat at 30-38, Knicks up by 8. Jazz ball.
Stockton and Malone ran their classic pick-and-roll. Malone popped out to the arc, and Zhao Dong stuck with him.
Stockton drove into the paint and put up a floater—brick. Knicks' backup center Buck Williams snagged the board.
"Yo, Buck! Right here!"
Zhao Dong had already turned and was sprinting down the court. Williams hit him with a dime, and Zhao Dong caught it in stride, heading straight to the rim.
Only Malone was back in transition defense. He wasn't as fast as Zhao Dong, but in a straight-line sprint, he wasn't far behind.
Zhao Dong crossed the free-throw line and exploded into the air.
Malone took one more step and jumped too.
As Zhao Dong cocked the ball back for a tomahawk slam, Malone's dirty side kicked in.
BAM!
The dunk slammed through the hoop.
CRACK!
An elbow smashed into the back of Zhao Dong's head.
His body froze mid-air.
And then he crashed, face-first, straight to the hardwood.
"OH!!!"
The whole arena erupted—fans jumping to their feet, gasping in shock.
"OH MY GOD!"
Zhang Heli and Sun Zhenping leapt up from their seats, momentarily forgetting they were on-air.
"Yo, that was some straight-up bullshit!" Doug Collins roared. "Karl Malone just threw an elbow to the back of Zhao Dong's head! He tried to take him out!"
"That's not a flagrant! That's a crime!" Marv Albert yelled. "Even in a no-rules fight, hitting the back of the head is off-limits!"
"This is damn near identical to what happened to Isiah Thomas in '91 when Malone busted his face open," Doug Collins shook his head. "But this? This is even worse. That was a full-blown cheap shot."
"Oh, this is some dirty-ass basketball," Hakeem Olajuwon groaned in Houston. "Malone took it way too far. That's not part of the game."
---
Back in China, millions of fans watching the game were frozen in shock.
They had seen Zhao Dong posterize guys, drill clutch shots, and thrive under pressure. But now, seeing him lying motionless on the floor? This was different.
"Dongdong?"
In Beijing, his family was stunned.
"Waaah! My baby boy! He can't get hurt! I still need to find him a beautiful wife! Wuuu..."
Zhao Dong's mother, Li Meizhu, broke down, her emotions completely unraveling.
"What do we do?!"
His father and grandparents stood up, pacing anxiously.
Then the worst thing happened—the CCTV feed cut to commercials. Panic set in even harder.
---
Meanwhile, back in Utah...
Karl Malone stood under the rim, staring down at Zhao Dong's motionless body.
Exhale.
He let out a long breath. He felt...satisfied.
To him, Zhao Dong was just some loudmouth rookie. A Chinese kid who needed to be put in his place. And with his superstar status? The worst he'd get was a common foul—maybe just a warning.
"Yo, that was foul as hell, Malone!"
Larry Johnson wasn't having it. With Oakley on the bench, he was the next enforcer up, and he stormed straight at Malone, shoving him.
"Man, back up. You ain't on my level," Malone sneered. He wasn't worried about Johnson—he knew he was stronger.
Larry hesitated, then glanced at the bench. Oakley and Ewing were sitting there, but someone had to step up.
"Yo, get the trainers over here! NOW!"
Van Gundy was already screaming, pointing at Oakley and the rest of the bench. "And y'all SIT DOWN. DO NOT get up!"
Oakley wasn't hearing it.
"My little brother's on the floor, and you think I'm just gonna sit here? Nah. Malone's gonna pay for that."
Van Gundy sprinted over, grabbing Oakley. "DON'T. YOU'LL GET US A SUSPENSION. You wanna get revenge? WIN THE DAMN GAME."
Thibodeau and the other staff rushed over, holding back the Knicks bench.
Oakley gritted his teeth. "We gotta make that bastard pay."
"First, let's make sure Zhao Dong's okay," Van Gundy shot back.
That got Oakley to chill—at least for now.
---
By now, Buck Williams had sprinted over to Zhao Dong, kneeling beside him. "Yo, man, you good?!"
Zhao Dong didn't respond.
The trainers finally reached him.
Then—he moved.
A ripple of relief spread through the crowd.
"He's up!"
Zhao Dong shook his head, the dizziness fading.
"I'm good," he muttered.
With the help of his teammates, he got to his feet. A little wobbly at first, but then he steadied himself.
Applause erupted throughout the arena.
Zhao Dong wasn't done yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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