8:4, Rockets' possession.
Olajuwon and Barkley spread out, leaving the Knicks' basket wide open. Olajuwon took the ball in the low post on the left wing, baiting the defense.
That's when Clyde Drexler suddenly cut from the left wing, caught Olajuwon pass, and exploded into the paint. With one step, he soared into the air like a damn glider, cocking the ball back with one hand, ready to hammer it home.
Zhao Dong, who was on the right wing, had already sprinted toward the basket for help defense. Just as he was about to jump for the block, he saw Drexler tossing the ball over his head.
"Shit—late?"
Then, it clicked—Barkley.
A gust of pressure came from behind.
Zhao Dong didn't think—he just launched himself into the air.
Barkley had followed him into the paint, waiting. The moment Drexler's pass sailed past Zhao Dong, Barkley detonated, snatching the ball with both hands.
He was about to baptize this rookie with a vicious dunk.
But just as he powered up, Zhao Dong—back turned—sprang up too.
BOOM!
They collided mid-air.
Zhao Dong didn't get full elevation, and the back of his head slammed into Barkley's chest, forcing him backward. He stayed upright, but Barkley? That dude got knocked off balance, lost control, and crashed onto his back.
Lucky for him, all that bulk softened the fall.
The ball? It tumbled out of bounds.
"Oh! That's a foul! Rookie just body-checked Barkley!" the commentator yelled.
But the ref's whistle never came. Instead, they called it Knicks' ball.
While Barkley was still peeling himself off the floor, Zhao Dong was already gone—sprinting full speed down the court. By the time Barkley got up, Zhao Dong had just crossed half-court.
Oakley inbounded to Charles Smith, who rifled a long pass to Zhao Dong.
Catching it in stride, Zhao Dong tore down the right lane.
Drexler, coming from the wing, tried to chase him down.
"Ain't no way this big dude's that fast—" Drexler thought, pushing harder.
But it was too late.
BOOM!
Zhao Dong took off from just inside the free-throw line and obliterated the rim with a tomahawk jam.
"Damn! If Drexler had just one more step, he might've caught him!" the commentator groaned.
"BEAUTIFUL! Zhao Dong just went up and threw it down—tomahawk style—like he was trying to break the damn basket!" Zhang Heli roared.
Zhao Dong stormed past the baseline, spotting a CCTV camera. He sprinted over, grabbed it, and yelled straight into the lens:
"That's how we do it! Ain't shit we can't handle! Let's take these Rockets out—Barkley, Olajuwon, all of 'em!"
"ROAR! ROAR! ROAR!"
Oakley, Ewing, and the whole Knicks squad rushed in, screaming at the camera with him.
"TAKE OUT THE ROCKETS! TAKE OUT BARKLEY! TAKE OUT OLAJUWON!"
Chinese fans, hyped beyond reason, started chanting along, even though some didn't even know who Barkley or Olajuwon were. They just knew Zhao Dong was coming for them.
"BOOOOOO!"
Compaq Center erupted in boos.
Barkley, pissed off and humiliated, turned up the heat. He sprinted down the court, crashed into the paint, snagged a pass from Olajuwon, muscled past Ewing, and got the bucket plus the foul.
Zhao Dong, caught lagging on defense, shook his head.
"Damn, old man, still that quick?"
That play alone made him more determined—he had to improve his flexibility and balance. Without that, his speed wouldn't mean shit. He'd struggle breaking away, dodging double teams, and truly maximizing his low-post game.
Barkley sank the free throw.
10-7, Knicks up.
Knicks' ball.
This time, Zhao Dong parked himself at the right-wing three-point line, eyeing Barkley, who was a step back.
Ewing, feeding off Zhao Dong's fire, was locked in. He banged inside, backing his man down, forcing a double-team from Drexler. Barkley even peeked back.
That's when Zhao Dong made his move.
He sprinted to the right corner, calling for the ball.
Barkley hesitated for just a second—then turned and realized Zhao Dong was gone. He scrambled to recover, but it was too late. The pass was already on its way.
Zhao Dong caught it. Wide open.
He could've shot it immediately.
But he didn't.
He just… waited.
Letting Barkley catch up.
"What the hell is he doing?"
Every reporter, every fan, every player had the same question.
Zhao Dong smirked and muttered, "A shot without a defender is meaningless."
Barkley's eyes went red.
This motherf—
That was the most blatant, straight-up disrespectful thing he'd ever seen on the court. The rookie was literally waiting for him before taking the shot.
The baseline reporters? They damn near lost their minds, cameras flashing nonstop.
Van Gundy? Hands in the air, absolutely dumbfounded.
Barkley squared up, locked in. He wasn't letting this punk get one over him.
Zhao Dong bent low, gripping the ball with one hand, eyes glowing with confidence.
He faked a drive.
Barkley bit, shifting his weight forward.
But before he could fully react—Zhao Dong pulled up.
Smooth. Effortless. The ball left his fingertips as he reached his peak.
Barkley jumped.
Too late.
The ball floated over his head, arcing beautifully toward the hoop.
"If this goes in, this is an all-time moment," every journalist courtside thought at the same time.
"PULL-UP JUMPER!"
The commentator's voice shook with excitement.
Zhao Dong already knew it was money.
He turned away.
Held up three fingers.
Didn't even watch the shot.
"SWISH!"
Nothing but net.
The arena went dead silent.
Barkley turned, stunned.
The words echoed in his head:
"A shot without a defender is meaningless."
The premature celebrations. The trash talk.
This rookie had just straight-up humiliated him.
"Damn… our home court just got disrespected AGAIN. Poor Charles, man, he's getting the worst of it," the commentator groaned.
"THAT WAS A LEGENDARY MOMENT!"
Behind the baseline, reporters were losing their shit.
"This line—this trash talk—this shot—this moment! Bro, this is a piece of NBA history!"
"A shot without a defender is meaningless—this is gonna be the most disrespectful line in the NBA!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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