The Bulls were on the attack.
Pippen was working the left wing, while Jordan was moving around the right, setting up for something big.
Suddenly, Pippen sprinted to the left corner, caught the pass, and pulled up for a three over Allan Houston.
Splash!
79-84. Knicks down five.
"Damn, this ain't it. Houston can't check Pippen."
Van Gundy wasn't having it. He barked from the sideline, "Zhao Dong, slide back! You're at the three now!"
Zhao Dong nodded, took off in transition, and after crossing half-court, Ewing fired a quick inbound pass his way.
Jordan hustled to close the gap, but right as he reached him, Zhao Dong stopped on a dime at the left-wing three-point line.
Pull-up jumper?
Matt Goukas' voice spiked with anticipation.
Jordan lunged forward—then stopped, realizing he bit too early. Zhao Dong was already in the air, wrist flicking effortlessly.
Everyone in the arena—players, coaches, fans—held their breath as the ball arced toward the basket.
Jordan turned his head, tracking the shot.
Swish!
The net barely moved as the ball splashed through.
"I'm killin' the Bulls tonight," Zhao Dong barked at Jordan, his voice dripping with confidence. "Ain't nobody stopping me. Not even you."
Jordan smirked. "Wishful thinking, kid."
82-84. Bulls up two.
This time, the ball went straight to Jordan.
Zhao Dong came over to help, but MJ was locked in. Even with three defenders on him, he still elevated and drilled a mid-range dagger.
82-86. Bulls back up by four.
Zhao Dong clenched his teeth. Jordan was straight-up different—his firepower was ridiculous. Maybe letting Pippen fire from deep wasn't the worst option after all.
Knicks had two timeouts left, one full and one short.
As soon as Charlie Ward inbounded, Zhao Dong called for the short one.
Van Gundy looked confused. "What's he doing?"
As soon as the team huddled up, Zhao Dong didn't waste time.
"Coach, put me on Jordan. We gotta lock his ass up. Pippen ain't the one who's gonna kill us—it's him."
Van Gundy hesitated. "But if we switch, Pippen will torch Houston."
Zhao Dong shook his head. "Nah, Coach. Pippen's only getting buckets 'cause he's open. He's not that dude who's gonna take us out single-handedly."
Van Gundy's face tensed up.
This was a big decision, and Zhao Dong calling his own number like this put the coach in a tough spot. He wasn't just a rookie anymore—dude was a superstar now.
If Van Gundy shut him down, and things went south, the Knicks' front office sure as hell wasn't getting rid of Zhao Dong. They'd fire him first.
After a moment, he exhaled.
"You sure about this?"
Zhao Dong nodded. "If I fuck up, it's on me."
Van Gundy paused—then gave the go-ahead.
Timeout ended. Knicks ball.
The Bulls' defense immediately shrunk in, shadowing Zhao Dong like a double-team was coming.
Zhao Dong glanced at Ewing in the post, then looked at the rim, then back at Ewing.
The big man gave a slight nod. Message received.
Charlie Ward zipped the ball over, and right on cue, every Bulls defender except Kukoc collapsed toward Zhao Dong.
That was all Ewing needed.
The big man slipped behind Kukoc and cut straight to the basket.
Lob incoming!
Zhao Dong didn't hesitate—he floated the pass perfectly inside.
Ewing caught it mid-air, took one power dribble, and slammed it home with both hands.
BANG!
"Get back on D!" Zhao Dong roared as he turned around and sprinted back.
Matt Goukas was hyped. "Zhao Dong with a beautiful lob, and Ewing throws it down! The Bulls had no answer for that!"
Marv Albert nodded. "Absolutely, Matt. That's the weakness in Chicago's defense—Rodman's their only legit interior presence. The Bulls can trade buckets on the perimeter, but if the Knicks win this series, it's gonna be because of this right here—owning the paint."
84-86. Knicks still down two.
Bulls ball. 38 seconds left.
As Zhao Dong stepped in front of Jordan, the crowd buzzed.
"Oh, the Knicks keep switching up their defense," Matt Goukas said. "They better be careful with this."
"The Tyrant's guarding Jordan again," Marv Albert observed. "Are the Knicks just gonna let Pippen fire away?"
Pippen got the rock on the left wing and let it fly right over Houston.
Zhao Dong's instincts kicked in the second he saw the release.
"Rebound!" he yelled, already anticipating the miss.
Sure enough—brick!
The ball clanked off the rim and bounced hard.
Ewing snatched it.
Zhao Dong was already gone.
"Here!" he hollered, raising his hand.
Ewing fired the outlet pass.
Jordan sprinted back, trying to chase him down, but Zhao Dong had a step.
By the time they hit the Knicks' frontcourt, Jordan finally caught up.
Too late.
Zhao Dong hit him with a quick direction change, cut into the paint, and—
BOOM!
Monster slam.
Game tied.
The 3,000 Knicks fans in the building exploded.
The rest of the United Center? Instant boos.
None of it mattered. Zhao Dong just forced a deadlock with 16 seconds left.
Phil Jackson immediately called timeout.
Back at the Knicks' bench, Van Gundy was firm.
"We lock in on defense. We take this to OT."
Meanwhile, over at the Bulls' huddle, Jackson was switching it up.
"Harper, you're out. Kerr, you're in."
He laid out the plan:
Kukoc, take the inbound, get to the corner, be ready to pull.
Kerr, opposite corner, same deal.
MJ, drive, draw the defense, kick it.
Pippen, start with the ball—either pass to Mike or set up Kerr/Kukoc.
Rodman, crash the glass, get the second chance.
With 15.6 seconds left, the Bulls inbounded from half-court.
Zhao Dong scanned the court. Jackson had spread them out—no inside looks.
Either they were gunning for a Jordan drive or an outside dagger from a role player.
Jordan took off toward the paint, and Zhao Dong was right on his heels.
That's when he caught Kukoc eyeing Pippen. Instinct kicked in. Zhao Dong switched directions and lunged toward Pippen, who was posted up outside the three-point line on the left wing.
This was a gamble. A big one. But it made sense.
With him tailing Jordan and Ewing holding it down in the paint, Kukoc had almost no reason to pass to Jordan. The smarter play was hitting Pippen.
Worst case? Even if he guessed wrong, Ewing was still there to deal with Jordan.
The ball was in the air, flying straight toward Pippen. Zhao Dong had bet right.
Pippen caught it two steps beyond the arc, and Houston immediately lunged at him.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Zhao Dong making his move.
"Perfect chance!"
Pippen's heart skipped. Zhao Dong wasn't close enough to double-team yet, and inside, it was just Jordan and Rodman against Ewing. A quick pass down low would seal the game.
Pippen went for it, pushing the ball forward with both hands.
He wasn't stupid—he didn't throw a straight pass. Zhao Dong was right in the lane, so he tossed a half-high pass instead to avoid a steal.
But the pass was fast. Too fast. Zhao Dong couldn't react in time—
Or so Pippen thought.
Right as the ball left his hands, Zhao Dong slammed on the brakes, took two rapid steps back, and exploded into a leap.
"Shit!"
Pippen's heart dropped. He knew he'd been baited, but it was too damn late.
SMACK!
Zhao Dong snatched the ball right in front of Jordan.
"OH!"
The entire arena gasped in shock.
Phil Jackson nearly lost it on the sidelines. Pippen had just ignored the set play at a critical moment.
"BEEP!"
Jordan didn't hesitate. He wrapped up Zhao Dong immediately, stopping the fast break. The whistle blew.
The Knicks had possession. 10.1 seconds left.
"Damn, that was a beauty! What a defensive play!" Matt Goukas shouted.
"Pippen rushed that pass. Zhao Dong is one of the top defenders out there. No way he was losing track of Jordan like that—it was an obvious trap." Marv Albert analyzed.
Goukas was spot on. Zhao Dong had been aggressive, baiting Pippen into making that pass.
He knew doubling Pippen at the arc wasn't realistic—it was too far. And he didn't expect Pippen to take the shot either. Pippen's three-point game was shaky.
So, Zhao Dong made a calculated risk. He sagged off Jordan, knowing that once the ball was inside, it would compress the Knicks' defense and leave open shooters.
By faking a double-team on Pippen, he tricked him into passing inside. Even if he hadn't stolen it, Jordan would've been swarmed by him and Ewing at the basket.
But the plan worked even better than expected—he stole it outright.
Back on offense, Zhao Dong stepped up to the line for his free throws.
"Wanna bet I sink both?" he grinned at Jordan.
"Yeah? Go ahead," Jordan shot back, never backing down from a challenge.
"Cool."
Zhao Dong laughed as the crowd erupted into chaos, trying to rattle him.
Behind the basket, the Bulls' cheerleaders were putting in work—high kicks, chest shakes, all of it.
SWISH!
The first free throw was good.
"YES!" The Knicks' fans in the building erupted.
"Zhao Dong's composure is insane. No hesitation, just straight confidence." Matt Goukas commented.
"87-86! Knicks up by one!" Sun Zhenping announced.
Zhao Dong readied for the second shot.
The distractions ramped up—cheerleaders bouncing, balls flying in the air—it was almost dizzying.
Then he glanced over at Lindsay on the sideline. She shot him a teasing smile, and just like that, his focus locked in.
Timeout.
Phil Jackson had called it.
"Damn old fox," Zhao Dong muttered, shaking his head as he walked back to the bench.
Over at the Bulls' huddle, Jackson mapped out the final play.
"If Zhao Dong misses, we go for a quick two. Remember, deception is key—fake the real, make the fake real. This time, Michael takes the shot, with Kukoc and Kerr as decoys."
But what if Zhao Dong made it? Then it was decision time.
Two or three?
The pressure was suffocating.
Losing this game meant going down 3-1, with the next matchup in Madison Square Garden. Winning three straight against these Knicks? That was damn near impossible.
Jackson took a breath.
"…Two points."
He wasn't risking a three. Not here. Not now.
Across the court, Van Gundy was setting up his own defense.
"The Bulls might go for the kill with a three, so we gotta be on Kukoc and Kerr. They're the real threats from deep, especially Kukoc—Phil Jackson trusts him. Full-court press all the way…"
"If they score, we foul immediately and call timeout. We'll still have one left."
Van Gundy was so locked in on defending the three that he nearly overlooked the possibility of a two.
But the next ten seconds would decide everything.
As the timeout ended, Zhao Dong had a realization—the Bulls were down by two and could force overtime. He wanted to remind his teammates, but it was too late. The game was back on.
Zhao Dong stepped up for another free throw, and the mind games started again.
Both teams' benches were locked in, staring at him like their lives depended on it.
"I missed the shot, I missed the shot, I missed the shot…"
Rodman was muttering under his breath, but the arena was so loud no one could hear him.
Zhao Dong exhaled, let it fly.
"Swish!"
Bottoms. Ice-cold.
88-86. Knicks up two.
The United Center erupted with boos, but the Knicks' bench and the three thousand road fans went wild.
Rodman inbounded from the baseline.
Full-court pressure. Zhao Dong was all over Jordan, denying him the rock.
But MJ was too quick, too slick. He sprinted back, dusted Zhao Dong, and bolted into the frontcourt, calling for the ball.
Rodman swung it to Pippen instead.
Jordan flared out to the right wing, shaking Zhao Dong again. Pippen fired the pass.
MJ caught it clean. Zhao Dong closed the gap.
Jordan rocked left, then right—deadly footwork.
Zhao Dong felt it—he was about to get burned. He made a split-second decision. Wrap him up.
"Beep!"
Whistle. Foul. Two shots for Jordan.
"Smart foul. If MJ blows by, who knows if it's two or three? This way, at least the Knicks get the last shot if he hits both." Matt Goukas broke it down.
On the court, Zhao Dong waved his teammates over.
"If he bricks, we have to secure that board."
"If he drains both, timeout immediately after the inbound."
Everyone nodded.
At the line, Jordan smirked. "Wanna bet?"
Zhao Dong chuckled. "I bet you make both."
Jordan's face soured. This damn rookie.
He was still salty about losing 300 grand to Zhao Dong in a bet earlier. This dude played dirty even off the court.
The three thousand Knicks fans tried their best to rattle MJ, but the man had nerves of steel. Splash. Splash.
Both free throws, money.
88-88. Knicks inbounded, called timeout. 3.1 seconds left.
Van Gundy huddled them up. This was it.
Two superstars. One final shot.
Who gets it?
Zhao Dong? The Bulls would double him instantly.
Ewing? He hadn't been doubled much all series.
Van Gundy hesitated, then decided.
"We go to Patrick."
Larry Johnson would inbound. Zhao Dong would draw the defense, then dish it to Ewing in the post. The rest would space out.
Zhao Dong glanced at Ewing. The pressure was heavy.
He knew the truth—Ewing's history in clutch moments wasn't pretty.
In the locker room, Oakley, who had been ejected earlier, was pacing. He knew. Everybody knew.
Ewing ain't built for this moment.
The huddle broke. Game on.
Larry Johnson stood at the sideline. Zhao Dong positioned himself inside the arc, then suddenly sprinted out to the three-point line.
Catch. Clock starts.
Ewing posted up left wing.
Rodman played him tough, bodying him, daring him to take a jumper.
Zhao Dong made a hard fake pass inside.
Jordan and Pippen froze. Just for a beat.
That was all he needed.
He pulled the ball back.
Elevated.
It wasn't his go-to shot. His pull-up was only a 94 rating—not elite.
But right now? It was the cleanest look he'd get.
Even if he missed, they'd still have overtime.
Jordan and Pippen recovered, lunging toward him.
Too late.
Zhao Dong was already in the air. The ball was gone.
Silence.
The United Center—the most hostile crowd in the '90s— held its breath.
"Swish!"
91-88. Knicks win.
Chaos.
Three thousand Knicks fans losing their minds.
The bench? Storming the court.
Zhao Dong? Screaming at the top of his lungs.
"HE GOT IT! HE GOT IT! ZHAO DONG JUST BURIED A BUZZER-BEATER! THE KNICKS STEAL GAME 4 IN CHICAGO!"
Matt Goukas was hyped.
"A COLD-BLOODED DAGGER! ZHAO DONG JUST DID IT AGAIN!" Marv Albert roared.
Jordan?
Still staring at the rim, shocked.
This loss cut deep.
The Bulls were down 1-3.
Even for MJ?
Coming back from this was damn near impossible.
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