"It's a shame there's no champagne. Today's the kinda day we pop bottles," Oakley said with a grin.
"Yeah, man. Zhao Dong just dropped a quadruple-double and we beat Jordan," Larry Johnson laughed, clapping his hands.
"Haha…"
The whole locker room cracked up.
Not long after, Zhao Dong pulled up to the post-game press conference.
The host handed the mic to Sun Zhenping first. He wasted no time.
"Zhao Dong, congrats on that quadruple-double!"
"Appreciate it."
"You took a hard fall out there. You good?"
"Yeah, I'm straight."
After a few throwaway questions, he passed the mic.
"Zhao, your team struggled from deep tonight. Was that the Bulls' D locking y'all up?" a New York Times reporter asked.
Zhao Dong's face got serious.
If it wasn't for their dominance on the glass and down low, plus knocking Rodman out early and Ewing barely playing, this game could've gone the other way.
After thinking for a second, he replied, "Our outside shooting definitely struggled. We didn't get clean looks, and the Bulls' perimeter defense was tough. So yeah, the drop in efficiency makes sense."
"What's the plan to fix that?" the reporter followed up.
"You'll have to ask the coaches about that one," Zhao Dong smirked.
"Any chance of a trade?"
Before he could answer, the staff came to grab the mic, and the reporter tossed in one last question.
"That's a front office thing," Zhao Dong said casually.
Meanwhile, the Bulls' press room was packed just like the Knicks', but the vibe? Dead serious.
"Mr. Krause," one reporter started, "y'all spent big to get Ewing and traded for Kidd. But you still lost to the Knicks and let Zhao Dong get a quadruple-double. Are the Bulls really better than last year? Was this trade the right move?"
Jerry Krause kept his composure.
"You saw what happened. Rodman went down early, and that threw us off. Ewing's still dealing with some injuries, so we kept his minutes low..."
He kept explaining, then circled back to the question.
"We're definitely stronger than last season. But the Knicks ain't the same team either. Even without Ewing, they've improved their rebounding and defense. It's a different matchup now. And remember—playoffs are what count. Regular season games don't mean everything."
"Michael, how does it feel being on the wrong end of a quadruple-double?"
That heat came straight from a New York Times reporter. Jordan clenched his jaw—he looked ready to throw hands.
"No comment," he replied coldly.
"Alright then—do you think the trade was a mistake? Can y'all beat the Knicks this year?"
"We're gonna win, no doubt," Jordan answered, dodging the trade question.
That one hit a nerve. After all, he pushed Krause to trade Pippen. If it backfired, it was on him too.
"Michael, y'all holding back?" a reporter from LA asked.
"Nope. We went all in," Jordan shot back quickly.
Truth was—they weren't giving their all. Not Jordan, not Kidd, not even Ewing. The whole plan was to coast through the regular season and peak in the playoffs.
Ewing and Rodman were aging. If they burned out now, they'd have nothing left in May. So the Bulls decided to play it smart—hide their full strength and save the real fight for later. Even Jordan, as competitive as he was, agreed.
But none of that could be admitted. The Knicks had to be caught off guard when the lights were brightest.
---
At 10 a.m. on December 11, 1997, the Knicks boarded their flight back to New York.
"Don, Krause came up to me," Grunfeld whispered to Don Nelson at the front of the plane. "They want Ben Wallace and Danny Fortson."
Nelson smirked. "They know exactly why they lost last night."
"So I told 'em hell no," Grunfeld chuckled.
"You got any ideas to boost the outside scoring? Maybe pull a trade?" he added.
Nelson rubbed his chin, thinking. "If we can grab a sharpshooter who moves well without the ball, that'd help."
The Bulls had done a great job defensively. Besides Zhao Dong, they locked up everybody else. That same D could work in the playoffs, too. So this needed fixing. Right now, the Knicks didn't have a second guy who could draw double-teams.
If they had another threat, it'd force the Bulls to send help and free up the others.
It wasn't easy. You can't just trade for a star anytime. But there were other ways.
One option: pull Zhao Dong back to the perimeter like they did in the second quarter. The Bulls didn't double him, so he could isolate, create, and dish it out. And even if a shot missed, the bigs were crashing the boards.
If they did double, Zhao's vision would pick 'em apart—just like in last year's Eastern Finals.
Nelson figured the Bulls wouldn't bother doubling him again. It hadn't worked.
Maybe they'd throw quick doubles occasionally, but nothing serious. Just enough to create small gaps, not full-on breakdowns.
His solution? Let Zhao Dong handle the rock outside, build the offense around that, and let the system flow.
Nelson basically invented the point forward style. He was all about giving bigs the ball to create, even pulling centers out to shoot threes. Zhao Dong? He was built for that.
Of course, Big Ben and Fortson didn't quite fit his small-ball vibe—they couldn't shoot or stretch the floor. But this was the squad. You work with what you got.
---
That day, the media went wild hyping the Bulls' collapse.
One loss. That's all it took to flip the script.
The same "Super Bulls" the press was hyping just yesterday? Suddenly, they were being clowned.
New York media led the charge, roasting the Bulls and calling the whole experiment a bust.
Ewing especially caught smoke from New York fans and journalists.
But Zhao Dong? He was the new king of the city.
"At 20, the youngest player to ever post a quadruple-double. The New York Tyrant just became the league's Golden Tyrant." — The New York Times
"Zhao Dong's era is here. He's about to run this league." — New York Sports Daily
Even Charles Barkley couldn't resist jumping in during a quick media chat.
"I said it before—the Bulls messed up going for that superteam. Their trades flopped. Their record's worse than ours," Barkley said with a smirk.
"Uh, Charles… we're eighth in the West. The Bulls are fourth in the East," a local reporter reminded him.
"Well…"
Barkley paused. Then he grinned and said, "We're just hiding our strength. You know Dream and I are getting older. We're just cruising till the playoffs."
Pacers star Reggie Miller also chimed in.
"Jordan ain't that dude anymore. He's not even the best player in the league," Miller told reporters.
"Then who is?" one asked. "Zhao Dong's ranked #1 in the MVP race right now. His stats are almost triple-double territory. Prime MJ only really beat him in scoring."
Reggie rolled his eyes. "Y'all hypin' that Chinese kid way too much. We just beat them. I'm not impressed."
This was facts. The Knicks did catch an L to the Pacers not too long ago.
"So who do you think is the best player in the league right now? Anybody you actually respect?" a reporter asked.
Reggie Miller scoffed, "Ain't nobody in this league worthy of being called the best, and sure as hell nobody I respect — not even Michael Jordan, or that Chinese dude playin' in New York."
That afternoon, Zhao Dong touched down in New York and kicked back with some newspapers Lindsay had laid out for him. He caught a headline clowning Ewing and snorted, "Give it ten years, they'll be talkin' trash about me the same way."
Lindsay smirked. "Then don't play that long. Retire when you're still on top. Isn't there a Chinese saying like that?"
Zhao Dong chuckled. "We'll see when we get there."
"Zhao, you got one less Ewing, and they got one more. So the Bulls stronger or weaker than last season?" Lindsay asked, leaning in.
Zhao Dong paused to think. "Our boards and paint defense are better, but our inside scoring took a hit. Their paint offense and defense both improved, and they're killin' it on the glass. No Pippen, but they added Kidd, so their ball movement's on another level. Overall? The Bulls definitely got stronger."
"But that last game didn't really count. I put Rodman in his place early, Ewing didn't go all out, and even MJ was holdin' back. He didn't have that 'I gotta win' fire. I think the Bulls are playin' possum."
"They savin' it for the playoffs?" Lindsay was sharp—smarter than Zhao Dong in a lot of ways—and she caught the idea instantly.
"Considering how Ewing's body's holdin' up, yeah, that's probably it," Zhao Dong replied with a grin.
"You sure?" she asked.
"No matter how tough they get, it's gonna be me and Jordan takin' the lead. It's me vs. him in the playoffs. Whoever comes out on top, that's who takes it all."
The fire in Zhao Dong's eyes? Blazing.
"Oh, by the way," Lindsay said with a big smile, "there's news about an NFL team."
"Oh? Which one?" Zhao Dong asked, intrigued.
Lindsay grinned. "Your favorite—New York Jets."
That caught Zhao Dong off guard. He'd loved the Jets in his past life and always followed them. He remembered they got a new owner around 2000. Robert Wood Johnson copped the team from Sony Wiblin for $210 million.
"How much they askin' for?" he asked.
"$130 million," Lindsay laughed.
"Alright then, let's get a squad together and make a move. Wells ain't built for this kind of deal," Zhao Dong said with a grin.
"Mm-hmm," Lindsay nodded, still smiling.
On the 12th, the Knicks were set to take on the Timberwolves at home.
That noon, Zhao Dong rolled up to the practice facility for the afternoon workout.
Outside the gym, the media swarmed him.
"Zhao, any response to what Barkley and Reggie said?" a reporter asked.
Zhao Dong thought for a sec, then said, "Barkley needs to switch teams. His GM ain't givin' him a squad that can win it all, so his playoff runs are gonna be mad short—he won't even get a chance to show out.
What I'm sayin' is, Mr. Barkley, if you got the skills, show 'em in the regular season. You might not even make the playoffs this year. Y'all sittin' eighth in the West already, so forget about chasin' rings."
The reporters cracked up.
"And Reggie?" another one asked.
"We did lose to the Pacers this season. They tough, no doubt," Zhao said, then flipped the switch. "But Reggie Miller? He was never built to win a chip."
"Why's that?" someone asked.
"Because he talks too damn much. That loud mouth of his brings bad karma. Good luck bounces off dudes like that."
More laughter erupted from the crowd.
And truthfully, it was real. Just when Reggie's Pacers were peakin', Jordan dipped out for the second time, and the Bulls' dynasty folded. It should've been their window—but boom, here come the Spurs and Lakers on dynasty mode. Reggie just had trash timing, man.
The Knicks' practices since opening night had all been about Old Man Nelson's positionless system—run-and-gun style. Fast breaks, smooth transitions. He gave up some of the traditional half-court sets and anchor-big tactics. It was a baby version of small ball, way ahead of its time compared to the slow, grind-it-out style that was the norm.
This kind of hoop had always existed, though.
Even Qian Chenghai over in China had built a similar "chase-and-smash" game plan. But when the center era hit China, that run-and-gun vibe faded. Once their three bigs retired, Chinese hoops lost its flair—and fell off hard.
Same thing with the Lakers back in their Showtime era. That was this style too.
Run-and-gun became its own thing later, but it's still under the small ball umbrella.
Old Nelson's version was simple: Zhao Dong ran point on the perimeter. Big Ben and Danny Fortson handled boards, set screens, and either popped out for a jumper or slashed inside. On turnovers or missed shots, Zhao Dong launched into the break himself—fast and aggressive.
But real talk, the Knicks' small-ball system was still raw. Ben Wallace and Fortson weren't ready. They weren't tailor-made for this system yet, so the results were mid.
If he had to trust someone, Zhao Dong would rather plug in Oakley alongside either Big Ben or Fortson. Oak had that mid-range touch and rebounding grit, way better fit for the style.
"Set that screen, Fortson! When your wing cuts in, give him a real pick!"
"Ben, seal your guy—don't let him mess with the drive!"
"Alan Houston, you gotta sharpen that mid-range and three. Faster release, better accuracy."
Nelson's voice echoed across the gym, all offense.
"Ben! Hold your ground! Chest up, don't reach!"
"Fortson, again with the foul."
"Camby, rotate faster—help side!"
Van Gundy and Thibs were constantly barking on defense.
Zhao Dong watched Big Ben closely. In his last life, Ben started showing flashes the next season—twenty minutes a night and eight boards. But this time, under Van Gundy, Thibodeau, and with Oakley mentoring him, Ben was leveling up fast—way faster than before.
After the scrimmage, the coaches huddled up.
"Camby's body too frail," Van Gundy said. "Can't hold up one-on-one. If we face Miami or L.A., Mourning or Shaq'll eat him alive."
"His help D's solid, but he zones out sometimes," Thibs added.
"Blocks look good on paper, but he chases stats too much," Van Gundy frowned. "He ain't really protecting the rim—guys still finishing too easily around him. That's a problem."
"Ben's raw. Needs reps. More games, more polish," Thibs said.
"Fortson's habits are tough to fix. Fouls too much, quick to snap, racks up techs. And he ain't fitting into the fast-break system. Can't keep pace with Ben," Nelson sighed.
Meanwhile, the Bulls had landed in Dallas, getting ready to face the Mavericks.
At their press conference, reporters brought up what Barkley and Reggie said.
Jordan didn't hesitate. "I got one thing to say to Barkley—playoffs are for stars, but the Finals? That's for superstars. Try makin' the Finals a few more times before you talk.
And as for Reggie Miller? Man, I can respect just about anybody…except him. Oh, and that kid in New York."
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