Marv grinned and said, "Both these squads are built tough under Coach Pat Riley. That toughness is in their DNA, man. But if they ain't careful, it could backfire on 'em. That's why they need a floor general who can keep 'em in check. And right now, Zhao Dong is doing a better job at that than Mourning."
Matt chuckled, "Yeah, Zhao Dong, the leader of the so-called 'Four Dirty Players,' calls himself a gentleman who only talks, not fights. A gentleman, huh? Tell that to Karl Malone, Tough Guy Mourning, and P.J. Brown. I bet they'd call him something closer to a villain or even a straight-up gangster."
"Ha!" Both commentators burst out laughing.
Zhao Dong stepped up to the free-throw line, sank his shot, and the Heat came down the other way.
Tim Hardaway pushed the ball up, looking to create. As Zhao Dong positioned himself on the weak side, Hardaway thought he saw an opening and zipped a pass to Jamal Mashburn on the left wing.
But he got baited.
Zhao Dong never planned on collapsing into the paint. With neither P.J. Brown nor Alonzo Mourning being threats from deep, there was no need to sag off. With Ewing and Oakley locking down the paint, Zhao was playing mind games—he wanted Hardaway to make that pass.
The second Hardaway let it go, Zhao Dong exploded back to Mashburn.
That first-step quickness? Elite. Faster than Mashburn or Hardaway expected.
Mashburn pulled up for three, but just as he rose up, Zhao Dong was already in his grill, leaping with his full wingspan stretched out.
For a split second, Mashburn froze.
BANG!
Zhao Dong snatched the ball mid-air with one hand.
"YEAH!"
Madison Square Garden erupted.
"OH, THAT'S FILTHY! ZHAO DONG JUST ERASED THAT SHOT AND HE'S TAKING OFF!" The broadcast crew lost their minds.
"Squeak—squeak—"
Mashburn sprinted after him, but Zhao Dong had that extra gear. Step by step, he widened the gap. No chance for a foul, no chance to stop the break. Desperation set in.
The Knicks faithful rose out of their seats, eyes locked on Zhao Dong.
One dribble.
Two.
Three.
He launched.
BOOM!
A tomahawk slam shook the rim. The Garden EXPLODED.
"OHHH MY GOODNESS! ZHAO DONG TAKES FLIGHT! HE'S A PROBLEM! A STRAIGHT PROBLEM!" The in-arena announcer's voice drowned under the roar of the crowd.
Pat Riley stood courtside, watching the chaos unfold. "Offense, defense... both sides... in just one season? Just one season?" he muttered.
He had first noticed Zhao Dong back when the Knicks signed him to a 10-day contract. Riley had tried to get intel, even made some calls, but Ernie Grunfeld wasn't giving up nothing.
Heat ball.
P.J. Brown drove inside, dragging defenders with him before kicking it to Voshon Lenard, waiting beyond the arc.
Lenard was still green—only in his second season and in his first-ever playoffs. But one thing he could do? Shoot that rock.
A clean 38% from deep.
He caught it, squared up, and let it fly.
But here came John Starks, closing out like a madman.
The pressure got to Lenard.
CLANK!
Ball off the rim. Ewing snatched the board.
"DEFENSE! I WANT TO SEE SOME DAMN DEFENSE!"
Pat Riley lost all composure, barking from the sidelines like it was '94 again. Even Jeff Van Gundy, now a coach, felt that déjà vu. That old-school Riley fire was back.
Zhao Dong jogged it up, waving his teammates into their spots. He wasn't rushing. He was controlling the tempo.
Riley squinted, then snapped.
"MASHBURN! GET IN HIS JERSEY! BITE HIM IF YOU HAVE TO!"
Zhao Dong smirked. "Damn, man, you tryna turn Mashburn into a dog?" he muttered.
Still, Mashburn followed orders. Dude was up in his face now.
Zhao Dong kept it cool—then hit a nasty spin move. One second Mashburn was chest-to-chest. The next? Gone.
Mashburn pivoted, scrambling to recover, but Zhao was already moving downhill.
He could've pulled up. Wide open.
The scouting reports were dead-on—his ability to attract double-teams made him a matchup nightmare.
But he didn't settle.
Instead, he drove deep, dragging Mourning up from the low block.
And then? BOOM—drop-off pass to Ewing.
"BANG!"
Ewing flushed it. Two more points.
"THAT'S TEXTBOOK! ZHAO DONG WITH THE DRIVE AND DIME—PERFECT EXECUTION!"
Zhang Heli couldn't hold back. "This man's game is too polished! The size of a center, height of a power forward, speed of a guard, and vision like a true floor general—he's got it all!"
On the sidelines, Pat Riley shook his head.
"The size of a big, the athleticism of a wing, the explosiveness of a slasher, and the handles of a guard. First-class shooting, elite passing, crazy finishing ability, and raw power... this dude is terrifying. The next Michael Jordan? Or a bigger, scarier version of the Jumpman?"
0-7. The Heat went on the attack but quickly called a timeout.
"Defense, man! Where's your defense? Y'all leave it back in Miami Beach or what?"
Pat Riley glared at his squad, and that fire in his eyes made them tense up real quick.
"Lenard, when Zhao Dong gets near the three-point line, you double-team him. Be fast, stay sharp... and watch out for his damn passes."
When Riley hit that last part, his head started hurting. Zhao Dong wasn't just passing—he was slinging dimes in every way possible. Guarding him meant covering three different passing angles at all times. That was hell for defenders.
And in some ways, Riley was already starting to feel like this dude was as tough to guard as Jordan.
"If Zhao Dong drives from the wing, Mourning, you gotta be there. Don't let him get easy buckets. Brown, that means you better be ready to rotate fast—fill that space the second Mourning steps up."
Then Riley's voice got low and dangerous.
"I don't care what it takes. Don't let 'em get clean shots. I don't care if you foul. I don't care if they hit the floor in our paint—I better not see them putting up points. Got it?"
He turned toward the offense.
"And when we got the ball? Attack. I wanna see blood out there. Show me your damn toughness."
The Heat players gulped. The message was clear.
Timeout over. Game back on.
BANG! BANG!
Tim Hardaway dribbled twice, then hit a filthy cross in front of his body. His whole frame shifted, like he split into two for a second—then he exploded past Charlie, attacking the paint.
Oakley stepped up to help, but here came P.J.Brown shook off his man, spun off another, and cut inside.
Ewing dropped back under the rim, Oakley followed, but at the last second? Brown kicked it out to Lenard on the right wing.
Clean look. Pull-up. No time to recover.
SWISH.
Heat on the board.
Now it was the Knicks' turn.
Zhao Dong caught the rock on the left wing.
"Let's see how Miami plays this one," Zhang Heli called out.
Lenard shifted from the top of the arc to help—but Zhao Dong was already making his move.
Didn't dribble. Didn't fake. Just straight-up slung a pass.
As soon as Lenard shifted left, John Starks slid right, eyes locked on Zhao.
Sure enough, Zhao barely took two steps—and the ball was gone.
Starks caught it at the top of the key, took a quick glance, and let it fly.
SWISH!
Three ball. Clean as hell.
"BEAUTIFUL! Right on time! Zhao Dong exposed the gap in Miami's help defense and set up a perfect look!" Zhang Heli was hype.
Pat Riley just shook his head.
That court vision. That lightning-quick decision-making.
Riley was starting to see something scary.
"This dude's got a bit of Stockton in him," he muttered.
---
End of the First Quarter
20-28. Knicks up by 8.
Zhao Dong didn't even flinch at the score. He knew this Heat squad was beatable. If it wasn't for his suspension in a different timeline, the Knicks would've handled them already.
Now? With him on the floor?
Ain't no way they were losing this.
His first-quarter stats: 3-for-4 from the field, 2-for-2 from the line. 8 points, 4 assists.
He didn't force shots—most of his work came in transition. But those four assists? They torched Miami's double-team scheme.
Still, he wasn't perfect. He'd coughed up one bad pass, got picked off, and gave up a fast break.
His passing skill was solid—an 85 rating. But sometimes, his passes were too obvious. Smart defenders were starting to sniff out his lanes.
Meanwhile, Riley was losing his mind on the sidelines.
"If we double him, he kills us with the pass. If we don't, he torches us 1-on-1. Mashburn ain't got a prayer trying to guard him solo."
---
Second Quarter – 4 Minutes In
28-34. The Heat cut it to six.
Zhao Dong checked back in, leading the second unit.
Pat Riley saw his chance.
Ewing was still on the bench.
Time to go all-in.
"Full starters, extreme defense. Double-team early, triple-team if needed," Riley barked. "Lenard, rush him when he's near the arc. Mashburn, body him up—don't let him pass before the double hits. If he drives, SWARM HIM."
This was it—put the clamps on Zhao Dong and mess up the Knicks' offense.
Knicks possession.
Zhao Dong took the ball on the left wing and started creeping toward the arc.
Lenard broke into a sprint—doubling early.
Zhao scanned the floor. He saw a couple of windows, but the Heat's rotation was lightning fast.
No time to thread the needle.
SQUEAK!
He planted his foot, spun hard. The screech of his sneakers echoed through the arena.
"DAMN! That spin was quick!"
Leonard and Mashburn both got caught lacking.
One step inside the arc.
Two steps in.
Then—Zhao Dong slammed the brakes.
Hard stop.
Mashburn and Lenard weren't ready.
Both lunged late. Zhao was already up.
Pull-up jumper.
Perfect form. Pure release.
"SWISH! OHH, MONEY!"
"FILTHY! Zhao Dong just cooked that double-team with a cold-blooded stop-and-pop!" Matt was loving it.
"That's ELITE shot-making. He baited the trap, read the defense, and hit 'em with a textbook separation move!" Marv Albert added.
CCTV Live Broadcast
On the live broadcast, the commentator hyped it up:
"The way Zhao Dong combines handles with his pull-up jumper is insane! That's how he's breaking these double teams so easily."
Zhao Dong wasn't just cooking on the court—he was talking his talk too.
"Y'all are just wooden benches out here. Maybe I'll sit down and take a break when I get tired of dropping buckets."
The Heat came down the floor, and Tim Hardaway pulled up from mid-range after a quick stop—cash.
Zhao Dong brought the ball up, immediately drawing two defenders. He spotted Allan Houston cutting and zipped a laser pass straight to him.
Houston caught it in stride—easy layup.
The Heat ran it back. Mashburn got the rock and started chirping.
"I'm letting this one fly right over your head!"
Zhao Dong smirked.
"Go ahead, wooden stake. Let's see it."
He pressed up tight, using his strength to keep Mashburn off balance. He had him locked—no space, no shot, no lane. Mashburn had no choice but to post up and kick it back out.
But just as he made the pass, Zhao Dong read it, jumped the lane, and took off.
"BOOM!"
The crowd exploded as Zhao Dong slammed it home off the steal.
On the NBC broadcast, Marv Albert shouted, "Oh my! What a defensive play turned into an emphatic finish!"
Matt Goukas added, "Zhao Dong is giving me some serious Jordan vibes with his two-way dominance."
Marv Albert chuckled, "Easy now, Matt. He's just a rookie."
"True, but his impact on both ends is already at an elite level."
Meanwhile, over on the Knicks' bench, Patrick Ewing was sitting back, sipping his drink, watching Zhao Dong put in work.
At this point, he had basically handed over control of the offense. He was still getting his numbers, and his shots were easier now. Plus, the team was looking like legit championship contenders.
Of course, deep down, it still stung a little. This was supposed to be his team. But he had to roll with it.
---
Second Quarter Action
Zhao Dong played eight minutes, dishing out two assists while picking up more of the scoring load since most of the starters were resting. He went 4-for-6, dropping another 8 points.
He took six shots: one fast break, five in the half-court against double teams—draining three of them for 60% efficiency.
The Heat, running most of their starters, had a strong quarter and cut the deficit to 48-45, just three points behind.
Matt Goukas analyzed:
"The Knicks are playing their bench while the Heat are keeping their starters in. This is gonna wear Miami down later."
Marv Albert agreed:
"Come the fourth quarter, that fatigue could be a real problem for the Heat."
---
Halftime: Heat's Locker Room
Pat Riley wasn't satisfied.
"We fought back, but we gotta clamp up. Every bucket they get should feel like a war. Understood?"
"Yes, Coach!" the team responded.
Then, he turned to Keith Askins, a backup forward.
"You're checking Zhao Dong in the third quarter. Use your fouls. Make it tough on him."
Askins gulped but nodded. "Got it, Coach."
---
Third Quarter: Game Heats Up
The Knicks rolled out their full starting lineup, while Miami mixed in some bench guys. Zhao Dong squared up against Askins.
The Heat struck first. Askins stuck to Zhao Dong like glue, denying him touches, while Mourning knocked down a jumper.
On offense, Zhao Dong got the ball near the three-point line.
Askins, barely 200 pounds, was practically hanging on him. Then Dan Majerle swooped in to double-team.
Zhao Dong didn't force it—he swung it to Allan Houston.
But Miami was on it—Hardaway jumped the passing lane, steal, and the Heat took off.
"Oh no, Miami's running!" Marv Albert called out.
Zhao Dong sprinted back. The Heat's rookie point guard pushed ahead, rising for a layup—
NOT ON HIS WATCH.
Zhao Dong exploded from behind, pinned the ball off the glass, and killed the fast break.
"WHAT A BLOCK!" the crowd went wild.
The Knicks reset on offense. This time, Zhao Dong didn't chill outside—he took position on the wing.
Askins fought through screens, but Zhao Dong's footwork was cleaner. He shook him, got separation, and caught the pass in rhythm.
As soon as he touched it, he fired.
Askins lunged, but his reach wasn't enough—
SPLASH!
Two more on the board.
Matt Goukas broke it down:
"Smart move. He's setting up inside the arc, where he's lethal. And because the defense can't double until he has the ball, he's firing before they can even react."
Zhao Dong kept cooking from the wing. The Heat had no answer. He was too quick, too strong, and too efficient.
By the 7th minute of the third, he was already at 8 points in the quarter—hitting 3-of-5 from the field and knocking down both free throws.
The Knicks went on a 13-6 run, stretching the lead to 61-53.
---
The Heat's game plan? Slow Zhao Dong down.
The reality? He was running the show.
With his defense, mid-range mastery, and high IQ, the Knicks were pulling away.
And if Miami thought they could keep up in the fourth quarter?
They might be in for a rude awakening.
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