Zhao Dong locked up Karl Malone in the first quarter, holding him to just 1 of 5 from the field and 2 of 2 from the free throw line. Malone only managed 4 points in the opening quarter, and it showed on the scoreboard—Philadelphia trailed early.
Zhao didn't force the offense early on, taking just six shots in the first period but converting four of them—all smooth pull-up jumpers in transition. Add in his 3-for-3 from the line, and he quietly stacked 11 points without even getting into his bag fully.
The Knicks played team ball. Willis knocked down 2 of 3 shots. Big Ben hit 1 of 2. Latrell went 3 for 5, and Chauncey Billups chipped in 1 of 3. The whole squad played within the flow.
"Totally different vibe from the Bulls game," Marv Albert said courtside. "The Knicks are clicking on every level tonight, while Philly offense is too reliant on one or two guys. It's showing."
"Yeah, New York's dangerous because they've got multiple ways to kill you," Matt Goukas chimed in. "They can go full Zhao Dong mode, or spread the rock and let everyone eat. Hard to game plan for that."
"When a team's scoring is too lopsided," Marv added, "you put all the pressure on one guy's rhythm. If that guy's cold? The whole system collapses. And the more touches he gets, the easier it is for defenses to lock in."
"Exactly," Goukas nodded. "But the Knicks get away with it sometimes because Zhao Dong's efficiency is off the charts. Even in double teams, he's cashing in."
And just like Zhao said before the game, Philly might be tough, but they can't beat New York. He can shut down Karl Malone and drop buckets on him, too.
The final score? Knicks 108, Philadelphia 88. A blowout. A statement.
Zhao Dong played 36 minutes—just three quarters. He took it easy in the first but turned up afterward, dropping 40+ on Philly. And here's the wild part: he didn't even attack the paint that much. He didn't go full force against Karl Malone or Theo Ratliff inside, which surprised a few people.
He only drove to the rim four times. He scored twice, got hacked once and hit two free throws, and missed a contested jumper under heavy pressure.
Iverson did his thing, though. He logged 42 minutes and went off—13 for 28 from the field, 3 of 7 from deep, 8 for 11 from the stripe. He finished with 37 points. Didn't hit 50, but that's a superstar stat line. High volume, high efficiency.
After the game, Maev broke it down:
"Philly got two glaring issues if they want to compete with New York," he said.
"First, Karl Malone got dominated by Zhao Dong. They were throwing elbows out there, but Zhao just outmuscled him. Malone couldn't create space, couldn't get his shot off."
"Second, they just cannot guard Zhao Dong. He's too fast, too smart, too tough. They tried different defenders, threw some fouls at him, but it didn't matter."
Marv leaned back and added, "This ain't just Philly problem. Every team is dealing with the same nightmare trying to slow down Zhao."
Another analyst laughed. "Zone, man-to-man, the so-called 'Zhao Dong Rule'—none of it works. Unless a new Bad Boys team rises up with that dirty Detroit defense, teams can't stop this dude. It's like the Bad Boys versus Jordan all over again."
Then, he got loud and pointed to the camera. "Mark my words—I wanna see Jordan bleed tonight!"
"Ha!" Marv chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a Charles Daly line if I've ever heard one. But let me tell you something—Zhao Dong ain't Jordan. Jordan took hits and dropped 40. Zhao? He's swinging back. He's throwing punches, not jumpers."
The other guy nodded. "Facts. Zhao would fight back with more heat. Honestly, I don't think anyone on those old Detroit squads could take him one-on-one."
"Ha ha…" Marv grinned. "We saw what he did to Tyson. No one's safe."
Back on the court, Zhao Dong was doing postgame interviews.
"Zhao," a reporter asked, "why didn't you go for 50+ tonight?"
Zhao raised an eyebrow. "Why should I?"
"To prove you're better than Iverson," the reporter pushed.
"You serious?" Zhao scoffed, eyes wide. "I need to prove that to Iverson? I've dropped 50 on the Bulls—more than once—in the Conference Finals. I don't need to prove a damn thing to anyone. Not even MJ."
He leaned into the mic, voice cold and confident. "Ain't a single basketball player alive who has the right to question me. Not one."
The reporter stammered, caught off guard. "Uh… okay…"
An hour later, the Knicks hosted their postgame press conference.
"Zhao," a New York Times reporter asked, "do you still think the Philadelphia s weak?"
Zhao nodded. "Yeah. They haven't shown me anything to change my mind."
"What would they need to do to beat you guys?" a local reporter followed up.
Zhao cracked a smile. "Should've drafted me in '96."
The whole room laughed.
"Got any advice for Iverson?" someone asked.
"He's solid," Zhao said. "His control over speed during his drives? That's elite. It helps him shake defenders and finish better. Rhythm matters. Break a guy's rhythm, and he's toast. That's why his shot's dropping more now."
Another reporter asked, "Iverson's speed control looks a lot like yours. You think he studied your tape?"
"This is definitely one of my strengths," Zhao Dong said with a smile, facing a swarm of reporters. "But it doesn't matter who Iverson learned his skills from. I've picked up techniques from a lot of guys too. Learning from others is how you get better. Like the old Chinese saying goes, 'When three walk together, there's always one I can learn from.' Same thing applies here."
"Zhao Dong, you didn't really attack the paint much tonight. Why's that?" asked another reporter.
Zhao Dong smirked. "We smacked the 76ers without even stepping into the paint. Why should I force it? Karl Malone is known for killing teams with mid-range shots. He uses his elbows, carves out space, and knocks down shots. I don't need to do that. I'm better at shaking off defenders and pulling up. My mid-range is cleaner than his. I've never shot below 55%, and with that kind of clip? I can take down any team. If you plan on guarding me, don't forget that."
—
Over on the other side of the building, the 76ers' press conference had its own tension brewing.
"Coach Brown, that was a rough loss. What do you think went wrong?" a reporter from the Philadelphia Daily News asked.
Larry Brown sighed, his tone clipped. "We let Zhao Dong do whatever he wanted, even got the better of Karl Malone. I'm disappointed, straight up."
Karl Malone, sitting beside him, didn't take it well. The frown on his face said everything. Coach just questioned his defense right to the media's face.
He had tried. His arms were covered in bruises and scratches from battling Zhao Dong. But the guy was just built different. Stronger than anyone he'd faced. Malone couldn't do a damn thing to stop him.
"Coach, speaking of Zhao Dong, he hit a lot of mid-range tonight. We couldn't guard him outside the paint. Was the team even prepared for that?" another reporter asked.
Larry Brown's jaw tightened. "We prepped for him driving inside, but we didn't expect him to live in the mid-range. He was smart. We were ready for him in the restricted area, but not out there.
I tried adjusting our defense in the second half, but Karl didn't rotate in time. When Zhao Dong blew by the wing and got near the paint, there was no help."
That was it. Karl Malone couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the mic in front of Iverson and cut in.
"Let me be real clear on this. Zhao wasn't going all the way to the rim. He pulled up right outside the paint. We were playing man-to-man. Once he beat our small forward, there was nobody to slow him down before he got to that elbow area. That left everything to us down low—but he didn't even go inside. He was rising up before we could close out. Me and the big fella inside—we couldn't contest those in time. That ain't on us. We didn't have any plan to trap him on the wing after the first step."
A collective "Oh!" rippled across the room.
It wasn't what Malone said that shocked the reporters—it was the fact he said it. Open disagreement between the team's star player and head coach? That was big.
Larry Brown's face darkened. As a system guy, the last thing he wanted was a superstar messing with his control of the locker room.
He'd already had his hands full last season with Iverson beefing with Derrick Coleman and Jerry Stackhouse. Now he had Karl Malone and Iverson—the so-called "email combo"—and it was giving him a migraine.
Especially Malone. His resume was too stacked. Ever since he came in, he'd overshadowed Iverson. Sure, A.I. was still the face of the franchise on paper, but behind the scenes, every player looked to Malone.
Larry could hold A.I. down if he needed to—he was still young and new. But Malone? No chance. He'd lost control.
Iverson just sat back and didn't say a word. He looked frustrated. He'd been hyped for this game but got let down by the team's weak defense—and by Karl Malone only dropping 12 points.
He knew Coach Brown had been trying to contain Malone's influence, and he'd helped with that behind the scenes. But Malone's locker room clout was too strong. Guys followed him, not A.I. That shift made Iverson feel like he was losing his own grip.
Then a reporter tossed him a grenade.
"Allen, how'd you feel about Malone's performance tonight?"
Iverson hesitated. "...We all gotta step up."
"And do you think the team's bad defense on Zhao Dong was more Malone's fault or the coaches' lack of prep?"
That one hit hard. Iverson didn't want to get on Coach Brown's bad side—or feud with Malone. So after a pause, he just said, "A little of both."
And that answer? It pissed both sides off.
Malone shot him a look. Larry Brown glared. A.I. had just walked the middle—and landed squarely in no man's land.
Later that night, the Knicks flew straight back to New York. They had another game in less than 24 hours.
The Next Morning – March 16, 10:00 a.m., New York
Zhao Dong rolled out of bed to an empty apartment. Lindsay had already left for work.
After a quick shower and the breakfast she left behind, he grabbed his phone and hit up Dazhi.
"Yo, Dazhi, what's good?"
"Brother Dong?"
"Yeah. You didn't suit up last night again?"
"No, I didn't..."
"You talk to Phil Jackson about it yet? Man's a pro—he ain't gonna bench you just 'cause I bounced the Bulls last season."
"I did. Once."
"And?"
"He told me to work on my defense," Dazhi answered, voice low, clearly discouraged.
Zhao Dong wasn't surprised.
"So where's your mindset on defense right now?"
"Brother Dong... I get it now. I was wrong."
"It's not too late to fix it. I just hope you don't keep making the same mistakes," Zhao Dong said seriously.
After hanging up, he immediately called Charles Oakley.
"Oak, what's Phil Jackson really thinkin' about Dazhi?"
"You asking for the kid's sake, huh?"
"Yeah. Lay it out for me."
Oakley sighed. "Yesterday afternoon, I had Wang sit down with Jackson. Whole meeting didn't even last a minute. Kid's too damn shy.
I didn't wanna push too hard, so I checked with MJ. He said Jackson's not giving Dazhi any burn until he gets tougher on defense. Said he's too soft inside right now.
And it's true. In practice, he avoids body contact down low. Ain't willing to bang."
Zhao Dong stayed quiet, thinking.
"You know how the Bulls go at us when we play," Oakley continued. "You are the problem they haven't solved. If we don't have a big who can absorb your hits and fight back, they don't stand a chance. That's how you wiped 'em last year in the East Finals. Remember that?"
"I remember."
After ending the call, Zhao Dong paused for a moment before dialing another number—this time, he called Ernie Grunfeld.
He wanted to trade Dazhi. There was no point in keeping him on the Bulls if he wasn't getting any playtime. As long as Dazhi recognized where he went wrong, Zhao Dong felt he deserved another shot—just not in Chicago.
"Ernie, can we talk trade with the Bulls?" Zhao Dong kept it vague. He knew Grunfeld would understand exactly who he meant.
Sure enough, Grunfeld responded immediately, "Zhao Dong, you're talking about Wang, right? Yeah, I noticed the Bulls haven't given him any real chance. I'll reach out to Phil Jackson, test the waters, see if he's open and what he wants in return."
In Chicago, the Bulls were boarding a flight for an away game when Phil Jackson's phone buzzed.
"You want Wang?"
Jackson had been expecting this call. He grinned as he answered, "Wang's available. But I want Mobley and Hu Weidong."
Grunfeld cursed silently but chuckled on the line. "Come on, Coach Jackson. Pick one. You know Wang's gonna request a trade himself if he stays, and then you'll get nothing. And we're not dead set on bringing him to the Knicks—Zhao Dong just wants him to play somewhere he's got a real shot."
Phil paused, then said, "Alright then. I want Mobley."
"Deal."
Just like that, the trade was done. Dazhi and Mobley had been drafted just two spots apart—Dazhi 27th, Mobley 29th—so it was a clean one-for-one swap.
Jackson hung up with a satisfied grin. Jordan wasn't getting any younger, and the Bulls needed a reliable backup at the two-guard spot. Mobley had shown real promise in New York's first five games, and he'd be a solid second option behind MJ.
Back in New York, Zhao Dong received the news and immediately tried to call Dazhi—but his phone was off. So he sent a quick text explaining the trade.
He didn't need to wait long.
As soon as Phil Jackson boarded the plane, he walked straight over to Dazhi.
Dazhi sat up straight, nervous. He wasn't sure what was coming.
"Wang, you've been traded," Jackson said with a relaxed smile.
"Huh?" Dazhi blinked, caught off guard.
Up front, Charles Oakley stood up and asked, "Coach, is he headed to New York?"
Dazhi turned to look at Jackson, eyes wide.
Jackson nodded. "Yep. We got Mobley from the Knicks."
Dazhi's face lit up with relief—and just a bit of excitement.
"Phil, that's a good move," Jordan chimed in with a smirk.
"You don't need to fly with us for this game, Wang," Jackson added.
As soon as Dazhi got off the plane and powered on his phone, Zhao Dong's text popped up. He called back right away.
"Wells should be in Chicago by this afternoon," Zhao Dong told him. "You can fly to New York tomorrow."
"Thanks, Brother Dong," Dazhi said, voice full of gratitude.
"When you get here," Zhao Dong said seriously, "whether it's in practice or in games, start with defense. That's the priority."
"I understand. I'll give it everything I've got," Dazhi promised.
That night, the Knicks beat the Magic, pushing their win streak to six straight.
At 3 p.m. on the 18th, Ringo wells and his crew landed in New York. Zhao Dong and Hu Weidong went to pick them up from the airport.
When they met, Zhao Dong joked, "After all the twists and turns, you still ended up a Knick, huh?"
"Brother Dong, I'm sorry I let you down," Dazhi said sincerely.
"It's all good. The Bulls are a championship squad, and Jordan's got high standards for his teammates. You weren't getting minutes there—it wasn't your fault," Zhao Dong said with a grin.
Wells chimed in, "Zhao Dong, Wang's defense is still his weak spot. The Knicks are a defensive-minded team. He'll be okay here?"
"We play tough defense, sure," Zhao Dong replied, "but Coach Nelson likes offense too. He's the kind of coach who'll appreciate what Dazhi brings to the table. He's got a real shot here."
"Glad to hear that," Wells said with a sigh of relief. "To be honest, I thought Wang would be better off on a weaker team. The pressure's heavy when you're a rookie on a team chasing a title."
The trio arrived at the Knicks' headquarters, where Grunfeld and Don Nelson were already waiting. Dazhi's registration was almost complete—he was officially a Knick.
While they wrapped things up, Zhao Dong and Nelson talked shop.
"I've been thinking about this since before the draft," Nelson said. "Right now, our big-man combos just aren't clicking. Ben and Danny are solid defensively, but there's no offense. Ben and Willis? Willis is too slow, and their defensive chemistry's off.
"But Ben and Wang? They're not ideal on defense either, but Wang's already a better offensive player than Willis. He's young, got great footwork, and he's smart on the floor. They might be the best balance between inside offense and defense we've got."
"And the defense?" Zhao Dong asked.
"You'll have to help with that," Nelson said. "Your defensive rotation speed can cover a lot of ground."
Zhao Dong nodded. "Wang still needs work on defense. I'll keep pushing him."
"That's what I like to hear," Nelson said. "Your interior defense is elite, and with your leadership, I'm sure he'll make huge strides this season."
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