NBA: The Dynasty Crasher

"101-100, we're down by one. 27 seconds left on the clock. We still got a shot. Michael, it's all on you!"

The commentator's voice boomed across the arena.

The Bulls still had a timeout left, but Phil Jackson didn't call it—he trusted Jordan to take care of business.

Van Gundy wanted to call a timeout, draw something up, but he didn't get the chance.

"Stay calm, let's get this last bucket and finish them off," Jordan barked at his teammates.

"Lock in, we get this stop, we take 'em down on their own damn floor!" Zhao Dong fired up his squad.

This was his first time stepping into that leadership role—should've been Ewing's job, but dude never took it.

"Yeah! We takin' the Bulls out tonight!" Oakley hyped up.

Oakley backed him up. Only Ewing and Allan Houston stayed quiet.

Zhao Dong felt a little let down but wasn't surprised. Ewing was just too stiff, too damn quiet. As for Houston, he didn't really care.

The Knicks' bench, though? They were all in—clapping, shouting, hyping up their guys on the floor.

The Bulls inbounded. Ron Harper brought the ball up, slow, burning the clock. Jordan moved around on the right wing, pulling attention his way.

Fifteen seconds left. Jordan drifted out beyond the arc, got the ball, and took control.

Oakley didn't hesitate—he doubled. Jordan had been firing all game but flipped the script—kicked it to Pippen.

Pippen caught it, but Ewing closed fast. No space. Another quick pass—top of the arc, Harper.

Harper hadn't shot much all night, only three points to his name. But this time? Wide open. No hesitation.

Splash!

The net snapped, the ball was pure.

"Yeahhh!"

Harper wasn't known for his three-ball, but in the clutch, he nailed it. Even he couldn't believe it.

"Ohhh, Ron Harper! Ice cold! That might be the dagger!" the commentator lost his mind.

"Wait—foot was on the line!"

Zhao Dong pointed at Harper's feet, yelling at the refs.

They checked the replay.

Confirmed. Two-pointer.

101-102, Bulls up one. 2.5 seconds left.

Van Gundy called the final timeout.

He looked at Ewing.

"Give it to Zhao Dong," Ewing finally said.

Dude wasn't about to steal the moment. Zhao Dong had 40-plus tonight—made sense for him to take the last shot.

Van Gundy nodded. "Everybody pulls the defense away. Zhao Dong, you decide—go for two, get to the rim, or draw the foul on Longley. Ewing'll set the screen for you to shake Rodman."

"Got it," Zhao Dong grinned.

This was his first real game-winner opportunity—he was hyped.

Timeout over.

Knicks inbounding from the sideline.

Zhao Dong stood at the top of the arc. Everyone else cleared out, except for Ewing, waiting under the hoop.

Rodman was glued to him—last time Zhao Dong was here, he drained a three, so Rodman wasn't taking chances.

Ewing moved—set a hard screen up top.

Luke Longley was too damn slow—he didn't even try to follow.

Zhao Dong shook Rodman, cut to the rim.

Oakley inbounded—clean pass. Zhao Dong caught it, stepped past the free-throw line, and charged straight at Longley.

Big dude was just a wall—hands up, taking up space.

Zhao Dong adjusted in midair, floated past, kissed the ball off the glass.

The buzzer.

The light.

Bucket.

103-102. Knicks win.

"YEAHHHHH!"

Oakley and the squad went crazy, rushing the floor.

"ZHAO DONG WITH THE BUZZER-BEATER! HIS FIRST GAME-WINNER!" Doug Collins shouted.

"Shit!"

Jordan just lost to a rookie. He looked dead at Zhao Dong, fuming, then stormed off without even looking back at his bench.

Zhao Dong lay flat on the court, sweat dripping, completely buzzing.

Yeah, the Bulls weren't at full strength—Rodman was off his game—but a win's a win. First game against Jordan? Dub.

And?

First career buzzer-beater.

Rodman's challenge? Cleared.

Damn, this felt good.

"Zhao Dong was cooking in that fourth," Doug Collins kept the hype going. "7-of-10, 1-for-3 from deep, 2-of-3 from the line—17 points and 5 boards in the last quarter alone!"

"Total for the night?" Marv Albert added.

"46 points, 13 rebounds, 3 assists, 1 steal, 3 blocks. 17-of-25 from the field, perfect from deep, 11-of-14 from the stripe. Five fouls, but only two turnovers—dude was elite tonight."

Marv whistled. "Not much worse than MJ. Jordan had 58-6-3, and man, he was relentless."

Doug laughed. "Zhao Dong's low-post game was unstoppable tonight. Even with double-teams, the Bulls couldn't do a damn thing."

Marv nodded. "If Rodman was off, it's a wrap. But still, even at 36, he's got to figure something out for next time. Otherwise, the Bulls are in trouble."

Doug grinned. "Rodman tried the trash talk game, but Zhao Dong didn't back down. They were jawing all night, and Zhao gave as good as he got."

Marv added, "Rodman's game is shutting down guys in the paint. But Zhao Dong? He's inside, outside, everywhere. That's why he cooked Rodman tonight."

Doug summed it up. "Historically, guys like Zhao Dong are impossible to guard. Think of MJ—when you got every offensive weapon, defenses just can't stop you."

---

Postgame Interview:

"Zhao Dong, 46 points on Jordan's Bulls. How's it feel?" A New York Sports Daily reporter smirked.

Zhao Dong grinned. "Better than a 10 outta 10 date."

"The Bulls again on March 9th. Still confident?"

"Always. No matter who we play, we step on the court expecting to win. Lose or not, we don't fold."

"Any words for MJ?"

Zhao Dong smirked. "Yo, Mike—y'all need a real post player down low."

Reporters cracked up.

---

Inside the Bulls Locker Room:

"F**king rookie!"

Jordan stormed in, saw the interview playing on the locker room TV—slammed it off.

"Next time," he growled. "We're torching the Knicks at the Garden."

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