The Pacers had the best record in the East this season, but they got bounced by the Bulls in the second round. Reggie Miller was hot. Soon as he saw the report, dude lost it and dropped his fishing rod right off his back.
"I never envied Michael Jordan. Not before, and definitely not now," Reggie snapped. "His time is over. Now he's just out here clingin' to the spotlight, tryin' to act like he still run the league."
Talkin' to the media, he didn't hold back. Then he came for Zhao Dong.
"As for that guy in New York? Man's just good at throwin' his weight around. I ain't even got a comment for him."
One of the reporters chimed in, "Reggie, you got nothin' to say about Rodman?"
"Who?" Reggie scoffed. "That clown? Man's gonna get his face caved in one of these days."
---
Back at the crib, Zhao Dong tossed the New York Times on the table and said to Lindsay, "If we wanna win, how am I supposed to hold back? You think Jordan and Ewing go easy? I went all in, my legs damn near cramped up at the end."
Lindsay smiled. "Next time, just pull up for a jumper. Don't keep slashing to the rim. You hit the floor like three times last night."
Zhao Dong laughed. "I wanted to body Ewing and Rodman, but they slick, kept slippin' outta my grip."
"How strong are the Bulls really? You think we can beat 'em?" she asked.
"Hell yeah," Zhao Dong said. "But not like this. It's way too much work."
He paused, thinking. "I'mma try to work the low post next game. Only Ewing can match up with me, and I'll smoke him both ways."
He took the morning to chill, then headed out to the team facility around noon for the film session and team walkthrough. Afternoon was all about practice.
But soon as he rolled up to the facility, reporters swarmed his car.
"Zhao Dong! Reggie Miller said you're just a violent player and not worth his time. Any thoughts?"
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Big mouth Reggie? Man's a soft shooter who couldn't back up the hype. I got no time for dudes like that."
---
Meanwhile, at the hotel, MJ got caught by reporters too.
"Reggie Miller? He really said that about me?" Jordan was heated. Like a king gettin' challenged. "We just smoked them 4–1. Guess next year we'll sweep 'em. That'll shut him up."
---
At the tactical meeting, Zhao Dong pitched the low post game. Coach Don Nelson was already thinking the same—without a threat inside, the outside game couldn't cook. That's why Game 1's perimeter shooting fell flat. No inside collapse, no open looks. So he gave the green light.
Afternoon training turned into a full-blown scrimmage, workin' on Zhao Dong's low-post sets and off-ball movement for the shooters.
Coach Nelson pulled Larry Johnson aside. He wanted him runnin' with the second unit more in Game 2—besides Zhao Dong, Larry was the only other guy with any real post game. So he became the centerpiece of the scrimmage.
Then it happened.
"Ah, damn!"
Larry Johnson and Danny Fortson collided fighting for a board. Larry hit the deck and didn't get up.
"Damn it, Danny! You ever heard of chillin' out?!" Larry growled, clutching his left ankle.
"I was under control, man!" Fortson said, frustrated.
"You alright?" Zhao Dong stepped over.
"Nah, I think I'm done. My ankle's messed up."
Zhao Dong sighed, backed off, and let the trainers handle it.
Larry had been averaging 15 a game and was the third scoring option on the team. First in the paint if you didn't count Zhao Dong. Losing him was a serious blow to the bench.
The team doc checked him out and shook his head. "Sprain. No way he's playin' tomorrow."
They got an ice bucket real quick, had Larry soak his foot to keep the swelling down.
Coach Nelson muttered, "No more injuries... please."
"Trouble comes in packs," Zhao Dong said, half-joking.
Luckily, no more incidents happened that day. But the scare got Ernie Grunfeld thinking about cuttin' Danny Fortson loose.
Fortson was still foul-prone, which killed his minutes—just around 24 a night. He got boards, yeah, but the fouls erased his value. Net impact? Mid. Between Fortson and Big Ben, Ernie was leanin' toward Ben now.
---
That night, Game 2 of the Western Conference Finals tipped off. The Jazz's black and white duo—Karl Malone and Stockton—showed out again. Two straight home wins, takin' control of the series.
But the Lakers didn't go out easy. Only lost by 3. It was neck and neck 'til the final whistle.
Mailman Karl Malone dropped 30+, hyped as hell. After the game, he told the media, "Finals, here we come!"
The media was already calling it: Lakers were probably getting bounced.
---
Next day, the 22nd. Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals.
Zhao Dong shifted into low post mode like he said. He cooked Ewing all game—on offense and defense—but the Knicks still took the L.
94–90, lost by four.
First quarter, Zhao Dong came out swinging. Locked Ewing up, held him to 1-for-5 shooting, and the Knicks were up 9. If Jordan didn't flip the switch, Bulls would've been buried early.
Second quarter, Rodman got in Fortson's head. Danny caught multiple fouls, even picked up a tech. Killed the team's rhythm, and the Bulls won the quarter by 7.
Third quarter, Fortson lost it. Fourth minute in, he straight-up punched Rodman in the face and got ejected on the spot.
Oddly enough, that didn't hurt the Knicks much. Ben Wallace, Zhao Dong, and Oakley still dominated the boards. Paint defense stayed solid.
What lost the game was the perimeter.
Outside, Knicks got smoked—on both ends.
Game 1, Zhao Dong tried locking up MJ solo and couldn't. But the Bulls spread the ball more that game.
Game 2? Different story. Zhao Dong locked up the paint, forced everything outside. Jordan had to take over, and the Knicks' guards couldn't guard him. MJ—38 years old and all—dropped over 50. And Steve Kerr? Ice cold in the clutch. Three straight triples in the fourth quarter.
The outside got torched, and the Knicks dropped Game 2.
The series was tied up 1-1, and now it was heading back to Chicago for three straight Bulls home games.
After Game 2, New York media wasted no time dragging Coach Nelson. They were already comparing him to last season's rookie coach, Jeff Van Gundy.
The New York Times wrote: "Van Gundy might not be elite, but at least he had the sense to hand the offense to Zhao Dong and let him run the show. That won him a chip. But old man Nelson? Nah. He keeps forcing this inefficient outside shooting, and that's why the Knicks dropped Game 2."
New York Sports said: "Zhao Dong was a walking bucket last night—18 for 25 from the field, 72% shooting, and he dropped 41 including free throws. But Nelson still let the outside guys take too many shots. Sure, they hit better than Game 1—41%—but they're still way less efficient than Zhao Dong. That's the real L."
New York Business Journal added: "The biggest mistake? Nelson putting Zhao Dong too deep in the low post. Took away his greatest weapon—his downhill pressure. Dude couldn't explode like he usually does."
Zhao Dong had his own thoughts too.
He knew most of that media talk was straight cap. You can't just ignore the perimeter. If the outside guys don't stretch the floor, then the whole Bulls squad would just collapse on him every possession.
The real L came from three things: fouls, turnovers, and missed free throws. Not to mention Larry Johnson was out, so the bench was weak on offense.
The Knicks kept fouling and gave away their rebounding edge. From the stripe? Ugly. Team went 18-for-29, that's barely 60%. Zhao himself? Ice cold—only 5-for-9 after going perfect in Game 1.
If they'd hit just a few more freebies, they could've walked away with the W.
Another issue? Ball movement.
Coach Nelson told Zhao to trust the double-team reads and pass out. He did that. Took fewer shots when crowded—but they still caught the L.
So it wasn't just on the coach—it was on him too. He hadn't figured out the right mix of playmaking and attacking. Same thing was going on with Billups. Zhao didn't expect he'd struggle with it too.
He remembered Lindsay asking if he could average a triple-double for the season. Zhao had said, "Only if it comes natural. If I got a shot, I'm taking it."
But last night? He hesitated. Gave up looks he normally would've taken, just to follow the game plan.
By noon on the 23rd, both the Knicks and Bulls had touched down in Chicago.
After some rest, the Knicks held a team strategy meeting at the hotel that night.
Coach Nelson and the staff had been cooking up a new plan, but they needed Zhao Dong to fully buy in.
In Game 2, Zhao played mostly from the low post. His efficiency was about the same as Game 1, but the impact? Not so much.
In G1, he was bulldozing to the rim. In G2, it was more post fadeaways and jumpers—less pressure on the paint.
But that's expected. The low post ain't got the runway. No space, no momentum—it's easier to get trapped or double-teamed.
Even a beast like Shaq has to mix in hook shots and baby lobs down low. Zhao ain't any different, especially since he doesn't have Shaq's size.
Trying to force contact from the post every possession? That burns way more energy than just driving from the outside.
Coach Nelson said, "For Game 3, I want you switching up—mix your outside and inside game. Keep their defense guessing."
Zhao nodded. "Bet. I'm good either way—low or outside. Just different looks."
From the outside, he had more power and vision. From the low block, he could draw in defenders and open up shooters—plus avoid the so-called 'Zhao Dong Rule' defense.
Nelson added, "Ewing and Rodman won't step out to guard you on the perimeter, and MJ can't check your first step. That's a massive advantage. I'm giving you the green light—shoot or pass, it's your call."
"Say less." Zhao nodded again.
Then they got to the defensive scheme.
Coach Nelson said, "You're guarding Ewing again. John Starks will match up with Jordan."
Van Gundy jumped in: "Zhao, even though you held Ewing to just 13 in Game 2, he's still dangerous. Stay locked in. And we need you covering ground—shut down their drives, mess up their rhythm outside. Use your speed to clamp down."
"I got you," Zhao said.
Van Gundy added, "I've been watching Ewing closely—he ain't movin' the same way he did in Game 1. Slower. His knees just don't got it no more. Even if he coasted through the regular season, he ain't gonna last deep into the playoffs."
Then he turned to Big Ben. "Ben, I need you protectin' that rim hard tonight. When you're bangin' with Rodman for boards, don't get caught slippin'. He's got all the sneaky tricks and trash talk. If he gets under your skin, he's got way more clout in this league. You react, you're the one eatin' the whistle."
"Bet, Coach. I got you," Ben Wallace nodded firmly.
Then Nelson turned to Fortson and laid it out. "Danny, man, you gotta chill with the fouls. You had five last game and gave up four turnovers. You snatched boards just to hand 'em right back. That can't fly."
"I know, Coach…" Fortson muttered, lookin' like a kid who got caught sneakin' snacks.
Nelson shook his head in frustration. He'd been grindin' with Fortson all season—Zhao Dong even ran drills with him to sharpen him up. But here in the playoffs? Fortson was fallin' apart under the lights.
He did pick it up a little toward the end of the regular season, but now in the Eastern Conference Finals? Back to his old ways. Maybe the pressure was just too real. If he'd played better last night, they might've bagged that W.
After two games, Nelson had a better read on the Bulls. Ewing had one monster night and sat the next. They weren't exactly lookin' like the Super Bulls the media hyped up. The Knicks had a real shot at takin' this series.
After the team's tactical meeting wrapped, Zhao Dong headed back to his room and caught Game 3 of Jazz vs. Lakers.
The Jazz were on the road, and this time they finally looked worn out. Lakers clapped them up.
Around 11, Zhao Dong tried to crash. Lights off, but no sleep. Still tossin' and turnin' at 1 AM.
Knock, knock, knock...
"Again? This is the fifth damn time tonight!" Hu Weidong groaned from the other bed.
"Man, what the hell…"
Zhao Dong called up Ernie Grunfeld again, fed up. "Yo, get up here. Again. Handle this."
Fifth time in two hours that some call girls came knockin'. It wasn't just them, either—the whole team was gettin' harassed. No way this wasn't some setup. If it wasn't Bulls fans teamin' up with the hotel, Zhao Dong wasn't buyin' it.
Grunfeld showed up soon after, dark circles under his eyes, rollin' deep with two staffers. He cleared out the girls again, then turned to the squad.
"Alright, from now on, I'm postin' up outside your rooms. Y'all get some sleep."
But the damage was done. Sleep schedule wrecked. Zhao Dong couldn't even tell when he drifted off.
"Damn Bulls," Grunfeld cursed in the hallway, sippin' bad hotel coffee while his guys stood watch.
His mind wasn't just on the playoffs anymore—he was already eyein' next season.
He'd been gettin' calls from agents of players wantin' out. Some were about to be free agents, others were tryna push for trades. That's the championship team curse—guys wanna cash in or get more burn somewhere else.
One target on his list? The Bulls.
Everybody knew there was tension in Chi-Town. They brought in Ewing and Rodman—both old heads. That squad wasn't built to last. And knowing Jerry Krause, he'd probably blow it up as soon as the season ended.
Grunfeld had a plan—flip Fortson for McGrady.
Rodman was gettin' up there in age. Bulls would need a young big with upside. Fortson could be that guy.
If he could get Kidd? Even better—but that was probably a long shot.
When Zhao Dong finally woke up, it was already 10 in the morning.
Few hours of broken sleep didn't help. He was still yawning.
Same with the rest of the squad. At breakfast, everyone looked like they pulled an all-nighter.
Coaches huddled and decided to cancel the afternoon session. Let the guys rest.
It was a curveball, messin' with the Knicks' prep and throwing off their rhythm. Nobody was feelin' 100%.
By 6 PM, after dinner, they hit the United Center.
Fans weren't let in yet. Nelson took the team out on the floor to get some warmup shots in.
But somethin' felt off.
Clank, clank, clank...
Shots were bricking off the rim like crazy.
Back in the locker room close to 7, Nelson pulled the squad together.
"Listen up. Tonight, I don't wanna see anybody jacking up long shots. Attack the rim. Mid-range at best. Y'all got it?"
"Got it," the team responded in unison.
A few media heads came in to get their pregame quotes.
"Zhao Dong, how confident are we in takin' Game 3?" Zhang Heli asked.
"Hundred percent," Zhao Dong answered with a sly grin, not even blinkin'.
The reporters cracked up.
Zhang shook his head, smirking. He knew it was a throwaway question. Zhao Dong always gave the same stone-cold answer.
By 7:30, fans started pourin' in.
Lindsay and the Knicks wives showed up. Even Yao Ming and Charles Barkley were in the building.
At 8 sharp, the starters were announced.
Knicks: Ben Wallace, Charles Oakley, Allan Houston, Zhao Dong, John Starks.
Bulls: Patrick Ewing, Dennis Rodman, Tracy McGrady, Michael Jordan, Jason Kidd.
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