MSG Buzzing for the Playoffs
The Knicks' staff was grindin' hard in the morning, hustling all over Madison Square Garden to drop off nearly 20,000 playoff gift packs on the seats. Each pack had a small gift, a home playoff jersey, and 300 random signed cards from Knicks stars.
By afternoon, when Zhao Dong pulled up to the training facility, he was swarmed by the media.
"Zhao, do you agree with what Shaq and Barkley said?" a reporter asked.
Zhao smirked, disrespect dripping from his tone.
"I ain't got time for that flying pig Barkley. Dude been riding coattails all season. And Shaq? Man, what qualifies him to be First Team All-NBA? He only played 51 games! Him and Karl Malone both got no business being up there."
He folded his arms and doubled down.
"I got a suggestion—the league needs a rule. If you wanna be in the All-NBA selection, you gotta meet a game requirement. Otherwise, what, I play one game, drop a 50-piece, and I'm First Team? That's weak."
MSG Under the Lights
As the sky darkened, MSG lit up like a movie premiere.
This Knicks squad was built different—deep, tough, and stacked with vets. They had a real shot at a ring, and the city knew it. Fans flooded the Garden, packing every seat before sundown.
Zhao and his teammates walked into the locker room, only to see a long table in the middle, covered in stacks of cash.
"OOOOOOHHH!"
The room erupted.
This was playoff bread—a cut of ticket sales and revenue, meant to boost morale. The Knicks made the most money in the league, and their players got the biggest playoff cuts.
After just one playoff game, even the dudes on minimum deals were cashing out hundreds of thousands.
At that moment, James Dolan strolled in, laughing.
"It's all yours, fellas!" he shouted. "Play hard for Franklin!"
"OOOOOOHHH!"
The squad turned up again.
Starting Lineups Announced
Magic:
Rony Seikaly
Derek Strong
Dennis Scott
Nick Anderson
Penny Hardaway
Knicks:
Patrick Ewing
Charles Oakley
Zhao Dong
John Starks
Chris Childs
NBC had the national broadcast, with Marv Albert breaking it down.
"Before we get into it, I just wanna say—it feels different not having Doug Collins here on the broadcast. He's a great friend, and we had some incredible years together calling games. But coaching is in his blood, and now he's back on the sidelines with the Pistons. Wishing him nothing but success, but man, we miss him here."
Marv took a deep breath before shifting back to the game.
"Grant is done for the playoffs—that's a huge loss for the Magic," Hubie said. "I still got the Knicks takin' this series."
"Their frontcourt is stronger, while the Magic got the edge in the backcourt," Matt added. "If Orlando capitalizes, they got a shot. But if they fumble, they might get swept."
Cook turned the convo to the Best Rookie race.
"Marv, who you got—Zhao Dong or Iverson?"
Marv nodded. "It's close. Both been hoopin' all season. But Zhao? Two-way beast. If you ask me, he's more deserving."
"Some say Iverson had it harder because Ewing takes the double-teams, giving Zhao an easier path," Matt pushed back.
Marv chuckled. "True. Ewing eats the defensive pressure, so Zhao gets cleaner looks. Iverson's got no superstar big to bail him out. That's a real argument."
CCTV Broadcast – Special Guest Ma Jian
Over on CCTV, Zhang Heli and Sun Zhenping had Ma Jian as a guest.
"Ma Jian, you played in the NCAA like Zhao. Ever face off?" Zhang asked.
"Nah," Ma Jian shook his head. "I was in the West, he was in the East. Never crossed paths."
"What's your take on him?" Sun asked.
Ma Jian sighed. "Man, I only heard about him at last year's draft. Never thought he'd make it in the NBA, let alone become a Knicks star. Wild."
Zhang chuckled. "I bet the Bulls regret letting him go."
The three of them laughed, but then Ma Jian got serious.
"I don't think it's smart for Zhao to beef with MJ," he said. "Jordan's influence is too powerful, both in the NBA and globally."
"For real," Sun nodded. "All these award votes? Media perception matters."
"Exactly," Ma Jian agreed. "Zhao might get snubbed for Best Rookie just off politics. And don't forget—he ain't American. That's another strike."
Zhang and Sun sighed, realizing the truth in his words.
Over in Beijing, at the national basketball training center, the squad had already started offseason workouts. But this morning? No drills—just everyone locked in, watching the Knicks' playoff game.
"You know, word is the higher-ups ain't callin' up Zhao Dong," Li Nan suddenly said.
"Where you hear that?" Liu Yudong asked.
"The women's basketball team," Li Nan replied.
"Why, though?" Wang Zhizhi asked, confused.
"Because of that whole Zhao Dong vs. Karl Malone fight," Li Nan shook his head. "Like, what does him scrappin' in the NBA got to do with the national team?"
Gong Xiaobing cut in, voice low. "Keep it down. This ain't about Zhao—it's politics. The Basketball Management Center is about to be formed. Whoever runs it will have to call him up eventually."
Shan Tao nodded. "Exactly. How do you not use this dude? You think they don't want wins?"
---
Zhao Dong just got off the phone with his mom, talking for a while to calm the nerves. Now? He was locked in.
As the teams lined up at the tunnel entrance, the starting lineups were out.
Penny Hardaway walked up, face cold.
"Rookie, I heard you talkin' sweep," Penny said.
Zhao Dong shrugged, unbothered.
"Yeah, and? If you got a problem, stop us. If you can't, shut up."
Penny snorted and led his squad onto the court.
The second the Magic stepped out, MSG erupted in boos.
Zhao Dong stepped up next and took in the scene—nearly 20,000 fans, all rocking the same white playoff jerseys. The electricity in the air? Unreal.
His heartbeat spiked, adrenaline flooded his veins, and his whole body felt on fire.
"Don't get shook, rookie," Oakley patted him on the shoulder.
Zhao Dong nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped into the spotlight.
The arena exploded.
"ZHAO! ZHAO! ZHAO!"
"CHAM-PION-SHIP! CHAM-PION-SHIP!"
Fans leaned over the railings, stretching out hands. Zhao Dong dapped them up as he walked to the court.
On the sidelines, New York legends and Hollywood stars were in the building.
Standing courtside? Willis Reed & Walt Frazier—Knicks Hall of Famers.
Reed pulled him in for a hug. "Zhao, you and Ewing gotta bring home banner number three."
Frazier leaned in. "Don't fold under the lights, kid. You're built for this."
From the stands, Spike Lee was hyped.
"Zhao! Win this chip, and I'm throwin' you a CRAZY party!"
In the front row, a group from Stony Brook University shouted:
"ZHAO! WOLF KING!"
Among them? Lin Min and a dozen Chinese international students.
Zhao Dong glanced over. "Damn, those seats cost more than a whole year's salary back home," he thought.
---
After warm-ups, Zhao Dong and Ewing got stopped for a quick interview.
"Patrick, what's the goal for this playoff run?" an ESPN reporter asked.
Ewing hesitated, then answered, "The best outcome, obviously."
"And you, Zhao?"
"Our first stop is eliminating the Bulls and making the Finals."
The reporters froze.
"Wait—you're skipping over the Heat and Magic?"
Zhao Dong smirked. "If we worried about them, we settin' the bar too low."
A Magic reporter scoffed.
"Too cocky."
Five minutes later, tip-off.
Zhao Dong won the jump. Knicks on offense.
Charles brought it up, looked for Zhao Dong.
First play? Let him catch on the wing, force a double, then either take the shot or feed Ewing down low.
Right out the gate, Zhao Dong couldn't get the rock—Denis Scott was all over him, playing that mad-dog defense, forcing him to keep moving.
He pulled out past the three-point line, finally got the pass, but boom—Scott was on him again.
"Man, this is different," Zhao Dong thought.
He remembered Game 3 vs. the Bulls, when Pippen turned up the heat. Looking back? That wasn't even the real deal—Pip was still holding back.
He turned his back, hit the floor with a hard pound dribble, spun right, switched to the left hand, and went to work.
But just as he took off, Scott yanked his right arm. His rhythm broke.
The ball bounced out of bounds.
Whistle. Magic ball.
"Shit!"
Welcome to the playoffs.
Scott smirked. "Rookie, that's all you got? You thought you were gonna sweep us?"
Zhao Dong laughed it off, but inside? His whole vibe flipped—anger erased all nerves.
On CCTV's live broadcast, Ma Jian called it. "Zhao Dong's feeling the playoff pressure—he needs time to adjust."
Zhang Heli nodded. "But he's built for this. He hit a rookie-year buzzer-beater—he'll figure it out."
---
Magic on offense.
Penny brought it up, Knicks switched the matchup—Starks stepped in.
John Starks wasn't just any defender. Dude made an All-Star team and was Second-Team All-Defense in '93. Way tougher than Chris Childs.
Penny had been banged up this season, missing 23 games, but right now? He looked fresh.
He hit Starks with a quick shake, made him bite, and pulled up for three.
Clank!
Zhao Dong crashed the boards, snagged the rebound, and immediately sprinted downcourt.
Scott tried to keep up—failed miserably.
"Damn, how's this dude so fast at 230?"
By half-court, Zhao Dong was already gone.
The pass came.
Two steps past the free-throw line.
Nick Anderson and Penny were back on D—but when they saw Zhao Dong charging in full speed, they hesitated.
Too late.
BOOM!
One-handed tomahawk slam.
MSG went wild.
"YEAH!"
CCTV's Sun Zhenping was hyped. "Zhao Dong's power is crazy!"
Ma Jian laughed. "I questioned moving him to small forward, but man, he belongs here."
---
Magic came back down.
Penny broke right, got trapped, and kicked it to Nick Anderson for three.
Brick.
Zhao Dong read the bounce perfectly—another board.
This time, Magic stopped the fast break, so Zhao Dong set up on the wing.
Scott came in tight.
But Zhao Dong wasn't the same as two plays ago.
He hit Scott with a hard bump, knocked him off balance, and cut to the arc for the ball.
By the time Scott recovered, he was already two steps behind.
Zhao Dong caught it, took two strides, and stopped for a mid-range jumper.
Bang!
Soft rim roll—bucket.
"Hands still feel tight," he muttered. He knew his jumper should be butter, but it wasn't warm yet.
Magic coach Richie hollered: "Double him faster! Stop hesitating!"
On CCTV, Zhang Heli called it: "Zhao Dong's locked in now—he's getting used to the playoff pace."
Ma Jian agreed. "Magic are 0-2 from three. If their shots ain't falling, they'll have to start attacking."
---
Next Magic possession, Penny drove again.
Charles doubled.
Nick Anderson got open.
Zhao Dong rotated fast, but Penny saw it.
Dime.
Ball landed with Rony Seikaly in the low post—Ewing had left him open.
Zhao Dong reacted instantly.
But too late—Rony Seikaly got the shot up first.
Swish.
Marv broke it down on commentary: "Penny's vision picked apart the defense."
MSG's commentator yelled out: "Zhao Dong's flying downcourt!"
Oakley hurled a pass ahead—Zhao Dong caught it at half-court.
Anderson hustled back.
Grabbed his jersey.
Bad idea.
Zhao Dong ripped free—Anderson stumbled and ate the hardwood.
One dribble—lift-off.
BOOM!
Another vicious slam.
MSG exploded.
Fans were on their feet, chanting. Adrenaline filled the Garden.
Magic inbounded quick—Penny tried to break through again.
But this time?
He fumbled in the trap—turnover!
Starks snatched the ball, sprinted down, and punched a one-handed slam.
MSG erupted again.
2-8, Knicks up early.
Magic burned their first timeout.
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