NBA: The Dynasty Crasher

The Bulls were on the attack.

Luc Longley was just a role player. He and Rodman had no range, so they stayed packed in the paint.

Jordan got the ball on the right wing and got hit with a double-team from Allan Houston and Charles Oakley. That's when Pippen made a cut to the basket from the weak side on the left wing.

Jordan saw him and fired a quick pass across.

Pippen caught it in stride, took one step, and launched toward Ewing, who was still turning under the rim.

At that moment, Pippen was hyped.

He had a flashback to '94—the dunk over Ewing, stepping over him, making the supercenter look foolish. That poster dunk was one of the most disrespectful moments in NBA history. It was his moment, and he wanted to relive it.

He wanted to body Ewing again.

"Oh, hell no!"

Jordan's pass was quick as hell. Ewing had just turned around and saw Pippen coming right at him. He knew it was bad news.

But before Pippen could throw it down—

BOOM!

A hand came outta nowhere.

"What?!"

Pippen had the ball cocked back, ready to cram it, but then a big-ass hand smacked it clean out of his grip.

"BANG!"

Zhao Dong put everything into that block, and with the momentum left over, he spiked it straight off Pippen's head.

"AHHH!"

Pippen ate the ball and crashed to the floor with a thud.

"OHHH!"

The crowd exploded.

"YEAHHHH!"

The Knicks' bench went wild, waving white towels like crazy.

"This is a foul! That ain't a clean block! That's a damn foul!" The commentator was losing his mind.

The crowd picked up on it, and boos rained down from the stands.

"Scottie?!"

The Bulls' players ran over, seeing Pippen still on the ground.

Ewing, on the other hand, was ecstatic.

"Zhao Dong, that was nasty! You saved me!"

Getting bodied by a dunk was bad enough for a supercenter. But getting dunked on by Pippen—the same dude who already humiliated him before? Nah, that would've been hell.

"Let's end these dudes today," Zhao Dong said, voice dead serious. "Treat this like the damn Finals."

Ewing nodded. "Bet."

Jordan overheard that.

Finals, huh?

A fire lit in his eyes.

"Oh, I'll kill y'all then, too."

By now, Pippen was back on his feet, but his back was stiff as hell from that hard fall.

"Scottie, you good?" Jordan asked.

"I'm straight." Pippen looked at Zhao Dong, pissed. "I'm gettin' that one back."

"I got you," Jordan said.

Bulls' ball, still their possession.

They got it to Pippen on the left wing. He rose up for a three over Oakley.

Zhao Dong, on the right side of the basket, spread his arms wide, keeping Rodman boxed out. No way was he letting The Worm sneak past him.

The shot hit the rim and bounced out. The rebound was landing right in front of the hoop.

Zhao Dong made his move—

But Rodman was already there.

Rodman's insane rebounding instincts kicked in, and he rushed straight to the ball before Zhao Dong could react.

"Damn, his timing's crazy," Zhao Dong thought.

But even Rodman couldn't grab it.

Ewing was right under the basket and snatched the rebound instead.

Knicks ball.

Zhao Dong set up in the low post on the right side, trying to muscle Rodman deep into the paint.

But Rodman wasn't playing that game. He fronted Zhao Dong, cutting off the passing lane.

Zhao Dong reacted quick. He sprinted into the key, bumping Rodman to carve out space for a pass inside.

"Now! Get it to him!"

Zhang Heli was shouting from the broadcast booth.

But the pass didn't come. Charles wanted to feed it inside, but Ron Harper's defense was tight, stopping the entry pass.

Zhao Dong had no choice but to reset.

He stepped out to the right low post, then suddenly faded out to the arc and demanded the ball.

Charles finally got it to him. Zhao Dong caught it, Rodman still glued to his back, but he immediately went to work.

"BANG!"

That extra 10% muscle in his cheeks? Yeah, it came in handy.

He slammed his ass into Rodman's gut.

Rodman felt it.

"Damn, this dude's built like a tank."

Rodman had to take a step back.

That's all Zhao Dong needed. He turned to face up, took a hard dribble forward, sold the drive—

Rodman reacted, stepping back—

But Zhao Dong pulled up instead.

"SWISH!"

Money.

"Zhao Dong's post game is lethal," Doug Collins said. "His footwork is polished as hell, and defenders can never tell what he's gonna do."

"In the last few games, he's been using that pull-up a lot," Marv Albert added. "And the efficiency? Ridiculous."

"His mechanics are textbook," Doug Collins agreed. "Honestly? His jumper's as pure as Allan Houston's."

"Maybe even better," Marv said. "Height, wingspan, athleticism—it's all in his favor. And when you throw in his footwork and IQ? Man, he's unstoppable in the post."

Bulls' ball again.

Jordan took it on the right wing beyond the arc.

Houston couldn't check him one-on-one, so Oakley slid over for the double. But Jordan saw it coming, hit a nasty pump fake, and dribbled into space before they could close in.

Zhao Dong stepped up from the right block.

Jordan kept coming.

Their first real one-on-one battle was about to go down.

Jordan stopped on a dime—

And pulled up.

Zhao Dong was a split second late. He could only watch.

Damn.

Jordan thought about celebrating early—

But nah. He wasn't about to gamble if he wasn't sure it was cash.

Swish.

No contest.

Jordan smirked.

"That's weak," he taunted. "A shot without a hand in my face? That's meaningless. Your defense is trash—you ain't even makin' me work."

Zhao Dong's face twitched.

"Oh, you a professional gambler, right? So celebrate early next time, big shot. Otherwise, shut the hell up."

Jordan's expression changed.

"Damn rookie."

This dude really had to bring that up?

4-4 tie. Knicks' ball.

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