This time, Allan Houston had the rock, and Zhao Dong, playing off-ball, didn't hang out on the perimeter. Instead, he cut straight into the paint.
That quick shift forced the Bulls to switch up defensively. Ewing had to step up, while Hu Weidong slid out to the left wing, and Jordan stayed glued to him.
Just as Ewing got close, Zhao Dong hit him with a sharp cut to the right wing. Ewing couldn't keep up.
Houston saw it, whipped the ball to Zhao Dong, and just as he caught it, Ewing lunged out.
Zhao Dong gave him a pump fake, got Ewing in the air, then exploded past him and attacked the paint.
The Bulls scrambled to rotate, but it was too late.
One step into the lane—Zhao Dong spotted only Rodman under the rim, so he took flight.
BANG!
Rodman tried to hold his ground, but Zhao Dong threw it down with authority, shaking the whole rim.
77:79, Bulls' ball.
Jordan tried to answer with a mid-range jumper—missed. Big Ben snatched the board, tossed it to Zhao Dong, and the Knicks were off to the races.
They stormed the court like a tidal wave. Ewing and Rodman? Way too slow to catch up. Knicks had numbers.
Zhao Dong didn't even look to pass. Straight-line drive down the middle.
He hit the free-throw line—and boom—Jordan and McGrady swarmed him from both sides. But Zhao Dong rose, forcing them to jump with him.
Only… he didn't have the ball anymore.
He dished it back mid-air to Hu Weidong, who trailed the play, caught it clean, and took off.
BOOM!
Tomahawk slam! Hu Weidong just hammered it home over the Bulls' defense.
"Beautiful! That's China's Jordan right there!" Zhang Heli shouted.
"It's all tied up! 79-all! The Knicks are back in this!" Sun Zhenping chimed in.
The Bulls took the ball and called a timeout.
NBC C's broadcast:
Marv Albert broke it down: "Knicks had a cold hand tonight, so they locked up the paint defensively. That's slowed Jordan's drives and dropped the Bulls' efficiency big time.
Now Phil Jackson's gotta figure out how to stretch New York's defense, but that's tough. The Bulls can't hit threes—they're not built for it unless he brings in Kerr."
Matt Goukas added, "Three-point line got pushed back this season. Jordan's barely shooting from deep—just 1.5 attempts a game and hitting 23.8%. Last season he shot 3.6 a night and made 37.4%. Zhao Dong's also taking fewer—1.8 a game—but still hitting 44%."
Marv Albert chuckled, "Man, with that kind of clip, why isn't he letting it fly more?"
Matt laughed, "His mid-range and inside game are just too good. Even 50% from deep ain't worth more than what he already gets in the paint."
After the timeout, Phil Jackson did it—he brought in Kerr and benched rookie McGrady.
The Bulls gave Kerr the first look.
Jordan drove, kicked it out. Kerr was wide open for three—but bricked it.
"Zhao Dong with the board! Even without Fordson out there, the Knicks are monsters on the glass," Zhang Heli grinned.
In the blink of an eye, Zhao Dong pushed the tempo again.
Knicks poured into the frontcourt. Jordan, Kerr, and Kidd hustled to get back. Ewing and Rodman? Nowhere in the picture.
Zhao Dong took it all the way down to the rim. Jordan slid over.
"Ball!"
He barked, turning and posting just outside the charge circle, boxing out Jordan and signaling to Houston.
WHOOSH!
Houston had just crossed halfcourt. He heaved the ball over Kerr's head with both hands.
Kidd slid in, trying to cut it off. Zhao Dong leaped, snagged it in stride, landed—and was immediately double-teamed.
Didn't matter.
He spun off them, dropped his shoulder, and bullied his way in.
BOOM!
Jordan and Kidd went flying. And-one!
Whistle blew—Kidd got hit with the foul.
"AND-ONE! What a power move by Zhao Dong!" Zhang Heli roared.
He stepped to the line, missed it short. The ball bounced off the rim—Ben Wallace tipped it, Rodman tried to swat it out.
Zhao Dong soared in, muscled between both of them, grabbed it with one hand.
As he landed, Ewing and Rodman swarmed.
He spun, slipped Rodman, lowered his shoulder, and blasted Ewing under the basket. Then rose up and SMASHED it with one hand.
BANG!
Ewing got leveled and hit the floor hard.
"YEAH!"
Oakley, the bench, and 2,000 Knicks fans in the crowd all jumped up, going nuts.
"Zhao Dong just baptized Ewing! And-ONE again!" Marv Albert yelled.
"He's going off! Rested for two quarters, now he's destroying them!" Cook added.
Zhao Dong nailed the free throw.
84:79. Knicks up 5.
On the sidelines, Phil Jackson just shook his head.
Inside game. Again. Nothing they can do.
Sun Zhenping shouted, "Knicks go on a 14-4 run in the fourth quarter! Zhao Dong's 5-for-5 from the field, 1-for-1 from deep, 1-for-2 from the line. That's 12 points this quarter alone. 44 points total! Man's going ballistic!"
Zhang Heli analyzed, "Outside of that one three, all his buckets came from inside—every one successful. The Bulls' vets didn't even try to block him.
Bulls been soft inside for a while. If Ewing had played like he did in Game 1, maybe they'd stand a chance. But in Game 2 and tonight, Zhao Dong shut him down.
Now the Bulls got no post game, no reliable three-point threat. Only thing they got is Jordan from mid-range. That ain't enough.
Meanwhile, the Knicks? They've got Zhao Dong from three, from mid, and his wrecking-ball drives—straight-up killers.
Only problem? The Knicks' other perimeter scorers are shaky. Tonight? Straight-up brick squad!"
The Bulls came down on offense. MJ made his move, caught the ball, drew the double-team, then kicked it to Kerr, who had slid into open space—and Kerr splashed another three.
"No!"
Zhao Dong spotted the ball's arc and instantly took off toward the rebound spot.
Bang!
Boxing out Rodman hard, he snagged the board.
"Push it!"
Zhao Dong shouted, making Jordan and the Bulls panic and scramble back on D.
But he wasn't actually sprinting—Rodman was all over him, locking him up so he couldn't break loose.
"This damn guy…"
Jordan cursed, realizing he got faked.
Zhao Dong advanced across half-court, jabbed left, shook Jordan off his heels, then suddenly shifted gears and blew past him, attacking from the wing and stepping into the left elbow.
Rodman and Kerr came over to cut him off. Zhao Dong slowed down for a beat, throwing off their timing—then gunned it, slid between them with a slick cross, and broke into the paint.
Jordan hustled back, reached from behind and almost swiped it—but couldn't get a clean touch.
"Ewing!"
Zhao Dong saw his guy under the hoop and didn't hesitate. He took a half step back, gathered, and then exploded toward the rim.
Seeing Zhao Dong flying in, Ewing backed off the basket without thinking.
BOOM!
The rim exploded as Zhao Dong hammered it down.
86–79. Knicks up 7. Bulls ball.
This time, MJ wasn't playing—he waved off the pass and drilled a pull-up two.
Zhao Dong leaked out right away, Oakley trailing. He caught the outlet, crossed half court with Kerr hounding him. One quick change of direction and he shook him, drove past the top of the arc, and lifted off just past the free throw line.
Jordan came flying in from the left wing, trying to meet him at the rim.
Bang!
They clashed mid-air. Jordan got rocked—his body twisted sideways and he got bodied out of the sky.
BOOM!
Another explosion at the rim.
"YEAHHH!"
Knicks fans in the arena went wild.
"Hohoho…"
Jordan lay flat on the hardwood, staring up at Zhao Dong, chest heaving.
"Damn…"
Zhao Dong was gasping too—he'd been going full throttle, burning through energy with every drive.
He leaned over—not to help Jordan up, but to bark in his face:
"Jordan, I'm takin' this game."
"I told you—you're only walkin' away with an L," Jordan snarled as he climbed to his feet.
But talk aside—he couldn't stop it.
With 10 minutes gone in the fourth, Knicks led 95–87. The Bulls burned their third timeout of the quarter.
On the broadcast, Matt Goukas shook his head and chuckled:
"Zhao Dong turned into a one-man wrecking crew in the fourth. His downhill game just blew Chicago off the floor."
Marv Albert added, "Rebounds too, man. Rodman's been everywhere, but Zhao Dong still snagged four boards this quarter. Knicks as a team grabbed 11. Bulls only got 6. Rodman had just two. They're gettin' outworked."
Goukas nodded. "Knicks already dropped 25 this quarter. Bulls got only 12. Kerr didn't deliver—shot 1 for 4. Phil Jackson's sub backfired."
Matt Goukas added, "Wouldn't have mattered if Kerr went 4 for 4—Zhao Dong torched 'em. Dude shot 7 of 8, and the only miss was a tough one contested by Ewing, Rodman, and Jordan. He hit 4 out of 5 from the line, nailed his only three—19 points in the fourth alone. Just cooked the Bulls."
On CCTV, Zhang Heli broke it down:
"In the fourth, Zhao Dong dished out seven passes and only got one assist. His teammates went just 3-for-11. Knicks were ice cold tonight—wasted so many possessions. But Zhao Dong didn't have the gas to take every shot. He's running on fumes."
Sun Zhenping added, "Good thing the Bulls don't have a real big inside. If they had a rim protector, Zhao Dong's drives wouldn't be this effective."
Zhang Heli agreed. "If this was against a team like the Jazz, or the Spurs, or any squad with a dominant interior presence, he couldn't be playing like this. The Bulls just don't have that inside wall, so Zhao Dong's crash-the-paint style thrives. It's a matchup killer.
"If they had someone like Ben Wallace inside—even if he had zero offense—he'd still do more for this Bulls squad."
Over on the Knicks bench, Zhao Dong looked wiped.
He'd carried the team with all those high-speed drives. His legs were toast. But with 122 seconds left and a solid lead, they were in a good spot.
Game resumed after the timeout—Bulls ball.
Phil Jackson left Kerr in. He didn't have much else. McGrady was too raw—once the Knicks tightened up inside, McGrady couldn't slash anymore. His jumper wasn't as reliable as Kerr's, so he rolled with the shooter.
And this time, it worked. MJ drew the double again, kicked it to Kerr, and Kerr nailed the open triple.
95–90. Knicks still up 5.
"Watch out now," Zhang Heli warned. "Five points isn't much. If the Bulls get another bucket and you don't answer, the momentum shifts fast."
Knicks came down on offense. Zhao Dong was running without the ball—wasn't calling for it much. His legs felt like bricks, and he needed to breathe.
Alan Houston and John Starks handled the backcourt.
They ran a pick-and-roll. Starks popped open on the right wing, caught the ball, and fired a three.
Zhao Dong saw the shot right away and knew it was long. He read the bounce—it'd hit the rim, bang off the backboard, and land front-left, about 1.5 meters from the rim. Right where Ewing was.
Zhao Dong was under the hoop, shifted toward that spot, spun, and sealed Ewing behind him.
As he boxed out, the ball clanged off the rim, hit the glass, and dropped right on top of him. Perfect read—he grabbed it clean.
Rodman and Ewing instantly swarmed him. They weren't scared—Zhao Dong wasn't in motion, he was flat-footed in the paint. They figured they could lock him down from there.
At the same time, Jordan and Kidd charged down to trap Zhao Dong in a tight double-team.
Zhao Dong reacted fast—real fast. With a sharp flick of both hands, he shoved the rock over Jordan's head and hit Alan Houston at the top of the arc.
Houston caught it clean, squared up, and let it fly before MJ could close out.
"Too short!"
Zhao Dong saw it right away—it wasn't gonna make it.
He immediately boxed out, pinning Ewing behind him and stiff-arming Kidd with his right arm.
Big Ben locked Rodman down too, making sure he couldn't elevate.
Bang!
The shot clanged off the rim. Zhao Dong jumped with everything he had left.
As he exploded up, Ewing tugged hard on his left arm from behind. But even with the grab, Zhao soared over a foot off the ground, twisted mid-air, and smacked the rebound with his right hand—slamming it back down as he dropped.
Bang!
Whistle!
The ball dropped in. The whistle blew. The ref came crashing in, pointed at Ewing, and called the foul.
"LET'S GO! Ewing's got five now, and Zhao Dong gets the and-one!" Zhang Heli shouted from the booth.
Zhao Dong used the free throw prep time to catch his breath—but he bricked the shot. Just no touch left in the tank.
Rodman snatched the board and the Bulls ran it back.
Swish!
Jordan set a slick screen for Kerr, who splashed another three.
97-93, Knicks still up.
Zhao Dong knew he couldn't drive anymore. Legs were dead. So he posted up on the left wing against Ewing.
He heard Ewing huffing and puffing behind him. The dude was barely holding on.
"Ball!"
Zhao stuck out a hand and called for the rock from Alan Houston up top.
But Jordan read it like a book. As soon as Houston passed it, MJ jumped the lane and picked it clean.
"Ohhh, Michael with the steal—he's gone!" the commentator roared.
Swish!
MJ finished the fast break with a smooth lay.
97-95. Knicks still clinging.
"I told you—you ain't walking out with this one," Jordan barked at Zhao Dong as they got back on D.
Zhao Dong just smirked. "We'll see."
He called for it again.
This time, no mistakes. He got the ball clean.
"DOUBLE TEAM!" Phil Jackson yelled from the bench.
Didn't even need to shout it, though. The Bulls were swarming. The Knicks couldn't hit shots tonight, so everyone collapsed on Zhao.
Bang!
Zhao didn't wait. The second he caught it, he backed down Ewing, then spun off him, stepped toward the 45-degree elbow, and rose up in traffic—fading, falling, but still in control.
He didn't have the legs, didn't have the touch.
But he had one thing: the bank shot.
99 overall on glass work.
Bang... Swish!
Off the glass, right through the net.
"FOUR GUYS ON HIM—AND HE STILL CASHED IT?" Yao Ming yelled from the bench.
99-95. Knicks by four. 17 seconds left.
Kerr, still fresh, ran wild on the left wing, dragging defenders with him after two straight triples.
Alan Houston stuck to him like glue. He'd only played 30 minutes, still had legs.
Then Jordan, moving quiet and lethal on the right wing, shook off John Starks and got loose.
Zhao Dong was holding down the left block against Ewing, but he never lost track of MJ. Kerr was flashy, but MJ? He was the killer. Zhao kept 60% of his focus on Jordan and Kidd.
Suddenly, Kidd held the ball out with both hands, looking like he was gunning for Kerr on the left wing.
The Knicks bit.
Then—BAM—Kidd snapped his hands back, took one step, and whipped a dart to Jordan slipping free.
It cut through the entire Knicks defense like a blade.
Jordan caught it, one step into the paint. Zhao Dong tried to recover, but he was a half-second late.
Swish!
MJ rose, popped, and splashed it right in.
"Damn," Zhao muttered, fooled by the fake.
"At the buzzer, Kidd with the dime of the night," Zhang Heli exclaimed.
"99-97. Knicks still up. Just 5.3 on the clock." Sun Zhenping said.
The Bulls pushed it up and immediately called their last timeout at 5.2.
"Close game. 42 million viewers. New record again tonight," said Marv Albert.
Matt Goukas grinned. "And we might beat that number again next game."
Marv added, "The Bulls'll go for the foul here. Knicks just need a single freebie. Lock down the three-point line, especially on Kerr, and it's over."
"If Zhao makes both, it's wraps," said Matt.
Timeout done. Final play.
The Bulls fouled right out the gate.
Zhao Dong caught the inbound, and Jordan hacked him with 2.5 left.
"God of Gamblers," Zhao said, walking to the line. "Wanna bet I hit one or both?"
"I bet you brick 'em both. Ten bucks," Jordan said coldly.
"How much your sneakers dropped this season?" Zhao teased with a smirk.
"Damn Silver Demon," Jordan muttered.
Bang!
Zhao missed the first. Legs were gone, touch just wasn't there.
Crowd got nervous. Bulls got hype.
Bang!
Second one clanked… and just sat there on the rim.
Everyone tensed.
The ball finally rolled off. A crowd of bodies leapt at it. Tipped once… twice…
Buzzer.
Game over.
"DAMMIT!" Jordan shouted. Zhao finally missed both… and they still couldn't capitalize. He was steaming.
Zhao turned, pointed at MJ, and shouted, "I told you—I'm takin' this dub home."
"Just wait, punk," Jordan snapped, storming off.
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