Next, Van Gundy set the starting lineup, keeping Allan Houston in the mix.
Then, he laid out the game plan: "Defense. We gotta lock in on defense tonight. That's the only way we can limit Jordan's scoring. Our defense starts from the perimeter. Allan Houston, you're the first line. Oakley, you're the second. The paint is our last line. The moment Jordan gets inside, we swarm him."
"One day, I wanna reach this level."
Zhao Dong couldn't help but envy the fact that only Jordan had this kind of impact—making opposing coaches go into full panic mode just to slow him down. That kind of dominance was something he craved.
Meanwhile, in the Bulls' locker room, Phil Jackson was setting his own game plan.
"Dennis, how you feeling?" he asked Rodman.
Rodman had been battling injuries all season, needing frequent rest at 36 years old. He had just sat out three games, but this matchup was too important to miss. His body wasn't fully recovered, but the Bulls needed him out there.
Rodman's absence had already cost them against Houston on the 19th, where the Rockets, still pissed about their loss to the Knicks, took out their frustration and stomped the Bulls 102-86.
Rodman lifted his chin. "I'm good. I'll handle that kid."
Phil nodded. With Rodman back, Kukoc would head to the bench to strengthen the second unit.
Half an hour later, the starting lineups were announced.
Knicks: Ewing, Zhao Dong, Oakley, Allan Houston, Chris Childs.
Bulls: Luc Longley, Dennis Rodman, Scottie Pippen, Michael Jordan, Ron Harper.
This game was huge, rare for a regular-season matchup. NBC had it on national broadcast, and CCTV was airing it in China.
Doug Collins was hyped. "The Jordan-Zhao Dong rivalry has been building all season, and we finally get to see them face off. This is gonna be electric."
Marv Albert chuckled. "Oh, Jordan might put on a show tonight. If he goes off, I won't be surprised. But I'm just as curious to see what Zhao Dong does. He's got serious potential."
Doug broke it down. "No question Jordan has the edge on the perimeter—he'll dominate Allan Houston. Inside, it's Longley and Rodman against Ewing and Zhao Dong. If Rodman was fully healthy, the Bulls wouldn't have a problem. Remember, last playoffs, he was the main guy slowing down Shaq. But if he's not at 100%, the Bulls could struggle in the paint."
Marv nodded. "That's true. And I think the Bulls will have a specific game plan for Zhao Dong tonight."
"Double-teams?" Doug asked.
"Absolutely. Their interior isn't as strong, so I expect them to send extra bodies at him."
Doug smirked. "Alright, so who wins tonight?"
Marv didn't hesitate. "Jordan's pissed off. He's taking this one."
Doug agreed.
Over on CCTV, Zhang Heli and Sun Zhenping were breaking it down too.
"This is tough. Really tough," Zhang sighed. "Jordan is just too damn good."
"If the Knicks had traded Ewing for Shaq in the offseason, they'd have a much better shot at beating the Bulls," Sun said.
"Of course! Ewing's getting old. I have no idea what the Knicks' front office is thinking. Maybe they just wanna give Ewing a retirement plan?" Zhang Heli scoffed.
If Zhao Dong heard that, he'd laugh. No way was the Knicks' front office doing Ewing any favors unless he brought them a ring.
Sun continued, "The Knicks have played 39 games so far. Zhao Dong missed the first two, got taken out by Karl Malone's elbow, and then served a five-game suspension. He's played 32 games, but in those, he's had 20+ points and 10+ rebounds 14 times, hit 20 points 22 times, 30+ three times, and even dropped 40 once. Knicks fans love him."
Zhang nodded. "Right now, he's averaging 28 minutes, taking 12.2 shots a game, putting up 19.5 points, 8.8 rebounds, 1.1 assists, 1.2 steals, 2.8 blocks, 1.9 turnovers, and 3.2 fouls per game. He's always in the top three of the rookie rankings. He's been damn good."
Back in the arena, the tunnel split in two directions—north to the Bulls' locker room, south to the Knicks'. Eight security guards stood at their posts.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall.
It was the Bulls. And leading the pack? Michael Jordan.
A couple of security guards exchanged glances.
"Wait, it's not time yet, right?"
"Yo… is he going to the Knicks' locker room?" one of them realized.
"Hell yeah, that's exactly what he's doing."
They followed, eager to see what would happen.
Inside the Knicks' locker room, guys were getting dressed, the trainer was working on Ewing, and Van Gundy was still going over strategy when—
BANG!
The door swung open.
Everyone turned.
Michael Jordan stood in the doorway, cigar in his mouth, head tilted up, eyes locked on them.
"Michael, you lost or something?"
Oakley stood up and marched to the door, blocking Jordan's path.
Ewing put his massage on hold and stepped beside Oakley.
Zhao Dong followed, standing right behind them, his eyes locking onto Jordan's.
For a moment, the air crackled. Their stares clashed like sparks hitting gasoline.
Jordan's eyes held nothing but pure disdain. He looked at Zhao Dong like he was just another nobody trying to step on his throne.
Tonight, he was gonna destroy this kid—his confidence, his pride, everything.
Zhao Dong's gaze burned right back.
He didn't give a damn about Jordan's status.
All he saw was a rival. A roadblock. Someone he had to take down.
Maybe he'd lose tonight. Maybe Jordan would get the best of him. But that would only make him stronger.
Jordan took the cigar from his mouth and looked at Oakley.
"Let me in, Charles."
Oakley didn't budge. "Not happening. You ain't got the right to walk in here like you own the place."
Jordan scoffed. "Shame."
Then, he smirked, looking straight at Zhao Dong, pointing the cigar at him.
"Kid, I'm dropping 50 on y'all tonight. Wanna bet on it?"
Zhao Dong's expression didn't change. "Told you before—you're just a professional gambler."
Jordan's face twisted. That hit a nerve.
"What the hell did you say?"
Zhao Dong stayed cool. "I don't bet with gamblers."
Jordan clenched his jaw, the cigar slipping from his fingers, falling to the floor. Sparks scattered as he stomped it out.
"Get the hell outta here," Zhao Dong's voice was cold, but the fire in his eyes was unmistakable.
The past life he lived, the struggles he endured, they all traced back to Jordan. Even now, even with this second chance, that bitterness still burned inside him.
If Jordan stayed any longer, he was ready to throw hands.
Jordan hesitated. He knew Zhao Dong wasn't bluffing. He'd seen what happened to Karl Malone.
"…See you on the court."
He turned to Oakley and Ewing, nodded, then walked off with the Bulls.
Oakley turned to Zhao Dong with a smirk. "Jordan looked a little worried you'd beat his ass."
Zhao Dong cracked his knuckles. "If he stayed, that's exactly what would've happened."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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