Zhao Dong leaned back on the bench, ignoring the towel and water bottle Dazhi offered him. He wasn't sweating, and he'd already had a drink. What was the point?
Instead, he pulled up his system interface and scanned the task list.
"Rebounding task complete… but still need two more dunks. Damn, guess I gotta keep going at Shaq."
Out on the court, chaos was still unfolding.
"Move faster, people! These girls are about to pass out!"
A supervisor yelled at the crew scrambling to change out the broken basketball hoop. The cheerleaders on the sideline were drenched in sweat, fanning themselves between sets.
"I swear, Zhao Dong might become public enemy number one for the Lakers cheerleaders," joked Marv Albert, watching the exhausted women trudge off the court. "He's been wrecking them."
"This game's in shambles," Matt Goukas chimed in with a chuckle. "Zhao Dong's turned it into a highlight reel demolition derby."
"Yeah, our ratings were sitting at 45 million earlier. Now they've dropped to half," Marv said with a wry smile.
"Well, duh. The game's been paused for what, half an hour now? Of course some idiots are switching the channel," Matt replied with a laugh.
"…."
Marv slowly turned his head toward Matt, staring at him like he just lost a few brain cells.
"What?" Matt asked, confused.
A second later, it clicked.
"Matt, you moron! The ratings are tanking and those 'idiots' you mentioned? They're the ones watching our show!" the director screamed into Matt's headset, making his face go pale.
"Pffft! Hahaha!" Marv lost it, nearly doubling over with laughter.
"Marv! What the hell are you laughing at? Your mic's still hot! Are you calling those viewers idiots too?" the director kept yelling.
Now Marv's face went blank.
Half an hour passed, and the new hoop was finally installed.
As the cheerleaders exited the court, the lead dancer jogged over to the Knicks bench, yelling, "Zhao Dong! If you break another backboard, we're calling your wife and telling her you tried to touch us off the court!"
Then she dashed away, leaving Zhao Dong dumbfounded.
"…Is that a threat?"
He turned to his teammates, scratching his head.
"Pfft! Hahaha!"
The whole Knicks bench exploded with laughter.
The game resumed. Score: 8–6. Lakers ball.
Shaq was back on the floor, a hurricane in human form.
He started slow, hanging around the left low block, not posting up too hard. On the other side, rookie Kobe Bryant was slicing through the wing, moving with intensity, drawing the defense's focus.
Suddenly, Shaq made his move—he spun off Big Ben with a burst of power and darted toward the rim. Fisher tossed a perfect lob.
BOOM!
O'Neal caught it mid-air and slammed it home with both hands. But he didn't stop there—he yanked down on the rim, and with a loud crack, the basket broke clean off the backboard.
"OOHHHH!!"
Holding the bent rim like a trophy, Shaq roared across the court, pointing right at Zhao Dong.
"Yo! Zhao! You broke our backboard, now I broke your damn basket!"
"OOOOHHHHHH!!"
The crowd erupted. Staples Center felt like it was shaking.
Even the cheerleaders, exhausted as they were, got up and did a synchronized high-kick routine in celebration of Shaq's monstrous dunk.
"Let's go, Big Diesel!" Magic Johnson stood up from his courtside seat, hyped beyond belief.
"This game, man… Are we sure it's not gonna roll into tomorrow morning?" Matt Goukas joked.
"Backboard smashed, rim torn off, whole basket collapsed… Zhao Dong, Shaq—y'all tryna get injured out here or what?" Marv Albert added.
"Shaq just cashed in a board and two rims for the Knicks," Ernie Grunfeld said, chuckling. "Zhao Dong returned the favor with three broken backboards and one entire hoop. We continuing this madness?"
"This is what happens when pride's on the line," Marv muttered. "Let's see how Zhao Dong answers back."
This time, the cheerleaders didn't even try to perform. They were completely drained. On both benches, the subs started warming up again.
Near the Knicks bench, Don Nelson leaned over to Jeff Van Gundy. "Jeff, we gotta contain Shaq. Can't let him keep catching it that deep."
Van Gundy nodded and turned to Ben Wallace.
"Ben, before Shaq gets the ball, you gotta fight harder. Don't let him seal you off that close. Watch his footwork too—he's sneaky quick with that spin move. Don't fall for the pump fake either."
"Got it," Big Ben nodded.
"Charles," Van Gundy called to Barkley, "help defense from your side's gotta come quicker. That guy you're guarding is barely touching the ball—let him stay open, just help on Shaq."
Then he looked at Zhao Dong.
"Zhao, when you rotate from the top, fall straight into the paint. Chuck's got the weak side covered—you're locking down the rim. Three layers of defense in the paint. Don't give Shaq any breathing room."
The staff, now used to this circus, had the replacement hoop installed in just fifteen minutes. Play resumed.
But the pace slowed.
Zhao Dong had broken three backboards already. Even with his system giving him injury immunity, the wear and tear was real—shoulders, elbows, wrists, even his fingers were starting to feel the toll. If he kept going at this rate, he might end up hurt from pure exhaustion.
Shaq wasn't immune either.
That last dunk—where he literally ripped the basket off—had done serious damage to his wrist and fingers. Unlike Zhao, he didn't have any fancy system protecting him.
The toll showed up immediately.
The Knicks started doubling him hard in the post. He tried to shoot through it, but the rhythm was gone. Three shots in a row clanged off the rim.
On Zhao Dong's side, the pressure didn't hit as hard. His jumper felt a little off, so he simply adjusted—started attacking near the basket instead.
This was his signature move in close-range offense. He rarely pulled it out—mostly because it lacked flash—but when he did, it was deadly. Unlike O'Neal's brute force style, Zhao Dong was smooth, surgical. Three buckets in a row, all in the paint. The Lakers had no answer for him.
Just like that, the Knicks went up 14–8 on the road.
The Lakers were forced to burn a timeout and huddle up.
In the stands, Jerry West glanced over at head coach Kurt Rambis and shook his head slightly. They hadn't found a permanent coach during the offseason. Rambis was just a placeholder. He'd be gone soon.
Timeout ended. Lakers ball.
This time, Kobe didn't dump it inside to O'Neal. Coming off a screen set by Derek Fisher, he slashed to the mid-range and pulled up for a smooth two. Then he immediately turned and sprinted back on defense—no more slow jogs or backpedaling. Rookie or not, he was showing growth.
But the Knicks didn't push the tempo either. Billups brought the ball up with control. Just as he crossed half court, he spotted Barkley shaking free in the low post on the right wing. Barkley cut hard toward the paint, and Billups hit him with a clean bounce pass.
Barkley caught it on the move, charged straight at the basket, and took flight—selling the shot.
"Not today!"
O'Neal had already rotated over, rising up like a damn mountain to meet him.
But as Barkley hung in the air, he flicked the ball to his left.
Zhao Dong was already airborne.
BANG!
Zhao Dong caught it mid-air and hammered it down right over O'Neal with a vicious dunk.
BEEP!
The whistle blew.
The ref pointed directly at O'Neal, who was still frozen under the rim, stunned.
"Heh heh…"
Zhao Dong and Barkley landed and burst into laughter, high-fiving right in front of O'Neal's face.
"You two clowns!"
O'Neal's expression darkened. Another poster, another foul. He was fuming. "Two-on-one? Really? Come at me straight up if you got the guts!"
"I'll take you solo anytime," Zhao Dong grinned, walking to the line.
"Unreal! Two All-Stars teaming up to bully the big man in the paint," the Lakers' home commentator grumbled.
Zhao Dong stepped up and nailed the free throw. And-one.
Lakers possession.
O'Neal planted himself in the left low block, calling for the rock. He looked over at Zhao Dong and Barkley and barked, "One-on-one! Let's go, stop hiding!"
"OK!"
Barkley yelled, standing behind him.
"Alright," Zhao Dong nodded.
"Deal!"
O'Neal smirked. One-on-one? That was his bread and butter. He didn't care how strong Zhao Dong looked—no one in the league could stop him solo.
"This dummy..."
Zhao Dong glanced at Barkley's smirk and rolled his eyes.
THUMP!
O'Neal received the entry pass, dribbled once, powered in deep with two big shoves. He was already in the restricted zone.
But before he could rise, Zhao Dong collapsed in from the top, and Barkley doubled from behind. Four giant hands came down on him—he lost the ball instantly.
"Shit!"
O'Neal roared in frustration, watching both Zhao Dong and Barkley sprinting out in transition.
Billups led the break, charging straight into the lane—but Kobe slid in to cut him off. Billups pulled it back and swung it to Barkley, who caught it near the free throw line in full stride.
O'Neal had scrambled back into position and turned just in time to bark, "Bring it, fat boy! Liar!"
Kobe circled back, trying to swipe the ball from Barkley.
But Barkley didn't hesitate—he turned, surged forward, but O'Neal walled him off. No lane. Barkley stopped on a dime and threw up a quick jumper over O'Neal.
"Off!"
The release angle looked shaky. O'Neal turned around, getting ready to sky for the rebound—
Too late.
Zhao Dong came flying in from the right wing like a missile.
BOOM!
Another monster putback dunk over O'Neal. The basket rocked. O'Neal got smacked again and tumbled to the floor.
"Whoaaaaa!"
The crowd gasped.
O'Neal lay flat on his back, hands over his face. He looked crushed. Completely embarrassed by back-to-back alley-oops.
"HAHAHA!"
Zhao Dong and Barkley were howling as they chest-bumped at midcourt.
"They're playing games with the Diesel now!"
Marv Albert's voice rang out, half laughing, half in awe.
Matt Goukas shook his head. "This has always been the Lakers' weak spot—no real power forward to pair with Shaq. Barkley might be older and banged up, but when he's locked in, he's still got All-Star firepower. And when you add Zhao Dong's explosiveness? Shaq's on an island out there."
"That's why the Lakers struggle against teams like the Jazz," Marv added. "They can't contain Karl Malone. And the Spurs? With Duncan coming up, it's only getting harder."
"Look at Kobe," Matt continued. "The Lakers are clearly grooming him as their outside cornerstone. He's got the ball more now, and he's evolving fast. Kid's got serious upside."
"He's starting this season," Marv said, "and he already looks like an All-Star. He's taking a leap right in front of our eyes. If he completes this transformation, the Lakers could become a real title threat."
"Once Kobe truly matures," Matt nodded, "you're looking at one of the scariest one-two punches in the NBA: O'Neal inside, Kobe outside."
"O'Neal and Kobe," Marv mused. "Mr. O and Mr. K... how about we call them the OK combo?"
"OK combo?" Matt laughed. "I like that. It fits."
In this game, Zhao Dong went all out, playing with reckless aggression to complete his system task. Alongside him, Charles Barkley stepped up with a vintage performance, and Big Ben Wallace anchored the paint with his signature toughness. The trio took turns punishing Shaquille O'Neal on both ends of the floor.
Shaq struggled under the pressure, finishing just 8-for-22 from the field and 4-of-11 at the line. He recorded 20 points and 8 boards—well below his usual dominance.
Kobe Bryant, though showing flashes of brilliance in his rookie season, wasn't yet ready to carry the team. Without Shaq playing at his best, the Lakers simply had no chance.
Final Score: Knicks 110, Lakers 82.
Against a championship-contending team like L.A., New York had just delivered a statement win.
Zhao Dong was monstrous again, using his elite rebounding instincts and touch around the rim to go 21-of-28 from the floor and 9-of-10 from the stripe. Another 50-piece. Task complete.
Barkley may have only scored 18, but his presence helped draw Shaq's attention away from Zhao, opening up countless easy looks.
After the game, Marv Albert and Matt Goukas broke down what they had just witnessed.
Marv Albert: "Well, I can't say I'm shocked by this outcome."
Matt Goukas: "Really? Why not?"
Marv: "This feels familiar. It's like watching Shaq's Lakers go up against Karl Malone's Jazz back in the day."
Matt: "True. As long as Barkley's playing like a superstar, the Knicks' frontcourt is even stronger than the Jazz used to be. One man—even Shaq—can't handle that kind of pressure alone."
Matt nodded in agreement.
Matt: "Tonight, the Knicks had Zhao Dong, Barkley, and Ben Wallace all collapsing on the Big Fella inside. And Shaq? He got stranded in the paint with no backup."
Marv chuckled.
Marv: "If the Lakers want to beat this New York squad, they've got two options: upgrade the power forward spot, or wait for Kobe to become 'that guy.'"
Matt: "Give him one season. I'm telling you, with the Lakers backing him up and Kobe's work ethic? He's gonna shock the world in no time."
Marv didn't respond right away. Then he smiled and shifted the conversation.
Marv: "Let's talk about this '96 class. Zhao Dong, Iverson, Kobe, Camby, Marbury, Abdur-Rahim, Ray Allen, Antoine Walker, Nash, and even Ben Wallace—who wasn't even drafted. These guys are already becoming the core of their teams. Fans called this a legendary draft class back then… and they were right."
Matt: "But even in a great draft year, there's always a pecking order."
Marv: "Exactly. Take 1984, for instance. You had Hakeem, Barkley, Stockton… and of course, Jordan. That class is known as the 'Diamond Generation.' But what about '96?"
Matt: "You asking me?"
Marv: "Yeah, what do you think?"
Matt grinned.
Matt: "If Jordan made '84 the Diamond Generation, I think Zhao Dong might do the same for '96."
Marv: "Because of Zhao?"
Matt: "Absolutely. The man came into the league and hit his peak instantly. Led his team to back-to-back titles as the solo star. Stat-wise? He's doing what Jordan did—maybe even more efficiently and with better versatility. You have to compare him to MJ at this point."
Marv took a moment, then nodded.
Marv: "Jordan's still elite this season. But if we're being honest? He can't stop Zhao one-on-one anymore. It's just the truth. He needs a full squad now just to stay competitive."
Matt leaned back and sighed.
Matt: "It's kind of sad, right? Watching the end of Jordan's era… but it's natural. Nobody stays on top forever."
Marv chuckled.
Marv: "Exactly. It's the end of an era—and the beginning of a new one."
Matt suddenly perked up.
Matt: "Remember when Zhao and Jordan said they should re-vote the Top 50 players list? I agree. But let's be real—Zhao isn't even eligible yet."
Marv: "Of course not. He joined the league in '96. He knows that. I don't think he wants to be on the list—at least not yet. We both know why he and Jordan want that vote…"
Matt: "Haha! Because Karl Malone rubbed everybody the wrong way! You remember how Isaiah Thomas clashed with Jordan back in the day? And Jordan never forgot that. Now the Mailman puts fifteen stitches in Jordan's head… You think MJ's letting that go? And Zhao? Man, the grudge between him and Malone runs even deeper!"
---
Postgame Interview – Zhao Dong
A group of reporters gathered in the tunnel after the game. One of the local journalists raised his mic.
"Zhao, you shattered three backboards tonight. You were on a mission. Did Shaq do something to piss you off? Mind telling us what happened?"
Zhao Dong smirked.
"Nah, it wasn't Shaq."
The reporters looked around, confused.
"Then who?" one asked.
"It was the Lakers' head coach, Mr. Rambis."
"Wait… What?" several reporters blurted out.
"Yeah," Zhao said casually. "I ran into Kurt Rambis in the hallway before the game. I stopped to say what's up—and this dude just walked right past me. Didn't even look my way. No eye contact. No nod. Nothing."
He paused dramatically. "You know how big a disrespect that is? That's a huge grudge. So, tell me—how was I supposed to treat the Lakers after that?"
The room fell silent. The reporters looked stunned. They couldn't believe the pettiness—but also couldn't argue with it.
At that moment, Shaquille O'Neal happened to walk by and overheard the conversation.
He muttered under his breath:
"Man… Is it even humanly possible to be that crazy?"
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