Chapter 285

"The core players determine how far a team can really go."

Famous NBA commentator Matt Goukas dropped a hot new article in his ESPN column this week. He wrote:

"I agree with Zhao Dong's take on Karl Malone. If you can't draw double-teams and collapse the defense, how are you a superstar?

With Malone as the centerpiece, the Email combo is doomed to be just another stepping stone for Zhao Dong—just like Utah's old duo of Stockton and Malone.

I mean, if a guy can't attract attention inside, how's he supposed to create space for shooters on the perimeter? That ain't gonna fly in the playoffs.

This Email duo? Maybe they run wild during the regular season, but come playoff time, when the defense tightens up, they'll fall flat just like the old Jazz teams.

The moment a team builds around the Mailman, they cap their own ceiling. And as long as Zhao Dong is in the East? That team might never even touch the Finals."

Meanwhile, Marv Albert, writing for the New York Sports Daily, chimed in with his take:

"The Knicks already found their answer to a Malone-centric squad. That answer? Danny Fortson.

He's not scared of Malone's elbows. That's how you contain a Mailman-led team—put a dude on the floor who'll go toe-to-toe with him physically and mentally."

Over in Los Angeles, a TV reporter was chopping it up with Shaquille O'Neal.

Reporter: "Shaq, before the league blocked Malone from joining the Lakers, did you ever think of a nickname for your potential duo?"

Shaq tilted his head, grinned, and said:

"Hah, honestly? I had one. I thought, what if it was a Big Shark ridin' a Mailman—delivering packages all over the league?"

"Pfft!"

The reporter burst out laughing, trying to keep it together.

Reporter: "Shaq, this is live news! You gotta chill!"

Shaq: "What? We live? Yo, I'm on TV? Man, you shoulda told me earlier!"

He leaned toward the camera, pulled a funny face, and smirked.

"Nah, but seriously—I never really thought about pairing up with Karl. I don't wanna share the spotlight with another so-called superstar. I wanna carry a city by myself, just like Zhao Dong."

Reporter: "So, were you disappointed when the Mailman didn't come to L.A.?"

Shaq: "Nope."

Reporter: "Then what's your opinion of him?"

Shaq paused, then answered:

"Zhao Dong called him a fake superstar 'cause he can clamp him. But that's Zhao. If you ain't on that level, you got no right to talk.

Me? I'm on that level. So yeah—I can say that too."

---

Back in New York, in a hotel room, Karl Malone was glaring at the TV, clearly pissed.

"That damn shark... I'm not letting this slide next time."

Right then, general manager Billy King opened the door.

Billy: "Karl, time to go. We're flying out to Chicago—got the Bulls tomorrow."

The 76ers was heading out for the second leg of a back-to-back.

Meanwhile, the Knicks were also boarding their private jet, kicking off their road trip.

February's schedule was brutal—mostly Eastern Conference away games. First stop: Miami, followed by Cleveland, then Boston. Three back-to-back East Coast games.

Tension with the Heat? Let's just say the beef was even worse than the one with the Bulls—more like their rivalry with the Jazz. Fights on the court, tension off it. Pure bad blood.

Of course, it was always the Heat starting the drama... and always the Heat getting smacked.

After lunch, Zhao Dong stretched and grinned.

Zhao Dong: "Anyone tryna hit the beach? Heard O'Neal's a Miami Beach regular."

Barkley: "Yo, Zhao! Come check this out—this headline's insane."

Barkley was laughing so hard the newspaper in his hand shook.

Zhao Dong: "What is it?"

He leaned over, and his eyes went wide.

"PJ Brown came out?!"

Right there on the front page of the Los Angeles Times—bold headline, huge photo—PJ Brown holding hands with another man.

Barkley: "Zhao, man, you sure this got nothing to do with you?"

Zhao Dong: "Yo, what the hell? Why would it have anything to do with me?!"

Barkley: "Come on! You did stomp on his junk! Maybe that changed his whole perspective!"

Zhao Dong: "That's BS! I only stepped on his corpus cavernosum, not his... you know. Just got it swollen, not busted."

They both cracked up.

---

Over in Milwaukee, PJ Brown's house was surrounded by media vans. Flashbulbs were popping.

After some deep breaths, PJ stepped out the front door and walked up to the gate. Cameras zoomed in. Mics were shoved forward.

Reporter 1: "PJ, are you really coming out?"

Reporter 2: "Is this decision connected to Zhao Dong?"

Brown walked up calmly, gripping the iron fence, and addressed the crowd.

"I know what y'all are here for. I just ask for respect. Respect my choice. I hope none of you judge me."

Reporters (in unison): "No judgment here, PJ! You've got our support."

Reporter 1: "So... are you confirming it?"

PJ looked down for a moment, the weight of a thousand lenses on his shoulders. He exhaled deeply.

The whole scene went quiet—waiting for one answer.

After about ten seconds of silence, PJ Brown finally gave a small nod.

"Oh..."

Click! Click! Click!

The reporters erupted. Camera flashes exploded across the room like fireworks on New Year's Eve.

"PJ, did Zhao Dong stepping on you cause the injury?" one reporter shouted.

PJ Brown shook his head. "Nah, it was just a regular play. Nothing intentional. My body's fine."

PJ Brown steps forward!

Almost instantly, media outlets all across the United States went into a frenzy. International media picked up the story as well. PJ Brown's name was suddenly everywhere.

"Charles, you better listen, this ain't got nothin' to do with me," Zhao Dong said, pointing at the TV.

Barkley grinned wide. "C'mon, Zhao Dong, what you think—he a top or a bottom?"

Zhao Dong rolled his eyes. "Why don't you try him and find out? Maybe add a new experience to that 'perfect' life of yours."

"What?! Man, my life is perfect. All I'm missin' is a championship ring!" Barkley said, jumping up with exaggerated flair.

Everyone in the room burst into laughter.

"It's time, switch to NBC!" Kevin Willis shouted.

"I got it!" Latrell dashed toward the TV.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to NBC Sports. Up next, we've got the matchup between the Chicago Bulls and the 76ers Team. Let's take a look at tonight's starting lineups…"

Matt Goukas and Marv Albert appeared on screen.

"Zhao Dong, who you got—Bulls or the 76ers Team?" Barkley asked.

Zhao Dong leaned back. "The Bulls' frontcourt's tough this year—solid on rebounds and rim protection. But Karl Malone's mid-range game? It clears out defenders with those iron elbows. If the Bulls can't stop him in the post, this game's gonna be a toss-up."

"What about their zone defense?" Barkley followed up.

"Man, zone or not, you still gotta deal with those damn elbows." Zhao Dong replied.

"Oakley can handle it, right?" Barkley said.

"He's got heart, no doubt. But Malone's bigger, stronger. Oakley's gonna struggle against that elbow-heavy post-up game. Still, he's their best bet."

As the game tipped off, the Bulls rolled out a man-to-man defense. As expected, Oakley took on the job of guarding Karl Malone, with Rasheed Wallace sliding in to help when needed.

Malone pulled Oakley outside the paint, creating space. Then came Iverson—breaking through like lightning.

Jordan, no longer in his prime, struggled to keep up with the younger, faster Iverson. He was blown by repeatedly and even stumbled hard on one crossover.

Once Iverson made it into the paint, he either took the shot himself or dished it off. Rasheed couldn't cover it all alone.

Meanwhile, Oakley was also having trouble. Malone had the size advantage, and elbowing in the post? That was Malone's playground.

On defense, the Bulls were shaky.

But on offense? Whole different story.

The Bulls spaced the floor beautifully. Oakley and Rasheed Wallace could stretch out and drag defenders. The 76ers had a tough time adjusting.

Instead of Jordan driving in, it was the young guns—McGrady and Jason Kidd—slashing into open lanes. Jordan pulled defenders to the perimeter, opening up the court for the others to operate.

By the third quarter, the Bulls' chemistry and depth started to show. They slowly pulled away, extending the lead to eight by the end of the third.

Three minutes into the fourth, the lead hit double digits.

Malone got frustrated.

McGrady broke through, passed to Jordan, who drove hard toward the rim for a powerful slam.

Then—BAM!

Malone, eyes red with frustration, hit Jordan with a brutal elbow. Jordan dropped instantly.

"AHH!"

Jordan cried out in pain, hands clutching his forehead. Blood trickled between his fingers.

"F**k!" Zhao Dong cursed. "Still the same old Malone—Dr. Iron Elbow. Man never changed. You take your eye off him for a second, and you're getting busted open."

Barkley sat frozen, mouth hanging open.

Zhao Dong glanced over. He remembered from his past life—Jordan and Barkley both got elbowed hard by Malone that season. Barkley's muscles were torn; he was out for over a month.

Now that Barkley was with the Knicks, could he dodge that same fate?

Back on the court, the United Center erupted into chaos.

Oakley didn't hesitate—he was Jordan's personal bodyguard. The moment he saw blood, he charged at Malone.

Rasheed Wallace wasn't far behind, roaring as he rushed in. His respect for Jordan ran deep.

"I'm the banker. I'm betting on the Bulls," Zhao Dong said, pulling out a stack of hundred-dollar bills and throwing them on the table with a grin.

"Damn it, then I gotta bet against the Bulls," Barkley groaned, pulling out his wallet. He threw down two one-dollar bills… hesitated, picked up a ten, thought about it, then took it back and left only a five.

Zhao Dong gave him the look. Barkley chuckled awkwardly.

"I'm in," Willis said, placing a ten-dollar bill on the table. A little more generous than Barkley.

"Anyone else?" Zhao Dong scanned the room.

"Boss, the fight's over!" Big Ben shouted, pointing at the TV.

Zhao Dong spun around. "Who won?"

"No real winner," Big Ben replied. "Malone got popped twice by Oakley. But Rasheed got flattened by Malone's elbow—dude's trash in a fight."

"If it's a draw, the house wins." Zhao Dong said smoothly, scooping up all the money from the table.

"…?!"

Barkley and Willis sat there stunned.

"Zhao Dong, you serious right now? Bro, you're a damn billionaire! You tryna rob us for five bucks?!"

In this game, Jordan went down with an injury, Karl Malone got fouled out, and both Charles Oakley and Rasheed Wallace hit the showers early. With nobody on the Bulls able to clamp Allen Iverson, the Philadelphia snatched a huge road win at the United Center.

The next day, headlines exploded. The media slammed Karl Malone for the nasty elbow that dropped MJ.

The Bulls' medical team gave the official update: Jordan suffered a gash on his right brow that needed 15 stitches, plus a mild concussion. He was going to be under observation for at least a week.

Around noon, Zhao Dong held an interview back at the hotel.

"Honestly, I think it's time to redo that Top 50 list," he said. "Some dudes on there? Straight up not worthy."

His words sparked a wildfire of support.

Charles Barkley, who happened to be nearby, chimed in:

"I back it. A re-selection of the league's Top 50? 100% necessary. We gotta respect the guys who really earned it."

---

Meanwhile, in a Chicago hotel room, Karl Malone lost it. Watching the broadcast, he kicked the TV with a growl.

What the hell do those two punks have to do with me?!"

The screen shattered on impact.

Raging, Malone paced the room, fists clenched. A re-vote for the Top 50? If he dropped off the list, that would destroy his legacy.

"Damn fat pig," he muttered, thinking of Barkley. "You really sold your soul for a damn ring, huh?"

But more than Zhao Dong, he hated Barkley. And in his heart, he swore Barkley would taste that elbow next.

---

That afternoon, dozens of superstars—active and retired—stepped forward in interviews. The media flooded in.

Legends like Magic Johnson, Shaquille O'Neal, Larry Bird, Wilt Chamberlain, Patrick Ewing, David Robinson, and Hakeem Olajuwon were all asked to comment.

Even Jordan, bandaged like a mummy in a hospital bed, stared down the camera with bloodshot eyes.

"I'm with Zhao Dong," he said coldly. "Some of those dudes on the list ain't it. It's time for a re-selection."

While not everyone openly endorsed a redo, none of the legends dismissed Zhao Dong's suggestion. But they all condemned Malone's dirty play.

"Damn it!"

Malone was still seething. His hands trembled as he watched the interviews replay on loop. He couldn't touch the retired guys, but he set his sights on the active ones—like Ewing, Dream, the Admiral, and Shaq.

---

Later that evening, the Knicks rolled into Miami to face the Heat. It was war the moment both teams stepped on the court.

Knicks starting five:

Ben Wallace, Kevin Willis, Zhao Dong, Latrell Sprewell (The Madman), Chauncey Billups

Heat starting five:

Luc Longley, Alonzo Mourning, Jamal Mashburn, Voshon Leonard, Tim Hardaway

---

As both squads warmed up, Zhao Dong wandered over and gave Tim Hardaway a smirk.

"Yo, Tim. Ever think about joining the Knicks? I could help you invest, flip that cash into real money."

Tim blinked. Before he could respond, Billups, standing at half-court, clenched his jaw.

This again? Chauncey was feeling the heat. Every other day, his boss was flirting with top-tier point guards in front of him. The writing on the wall was stressing him out—hard.

Across the court, Alonzo Mourning glared at Zhao Dong like he wanted to rip him in half.

"Zhao Dong," he said with a grin.

"Whatever! Don't think you can just buy everything with some dirty money!"

Zhao Dong chuckled, unbothered.

"Man, you ever notice the ones talkin' the most about money... don't got any?"

Mourning's face went red. His chest heaved, and a sharp pain stabbed his back. That one comment nearly messed up his kidney again.

The Heat players stared at each other awkwardly.

The Knicks? They were dying laughing.

---

Tip-off.

Big Ben won it. Knicks on offense.

Zhao Dong moved without the ball, cut through the left wing, got the rock, and drained a quick stop mid-range jumper before Mourning could rotate over.

"Another mid-range pull-up," said Matt Goukas on the CCTV feed. "Zhao Dong really ain't living in the paint this season like he used to."

"That's smart," added Marv Albert. "This year's schedule's a grind. Tight games, less rest. You wanna stay healthy, you cut down on body-to-body punishment in the lane."

"And Zhao's jumper? Man, his mid-range is more efficient than Jordan's right now," said Goukas. "That shot alone's a weapon."

"Absolutely," Marv nodded. "What makes him a nightmare is he's got the size of a big, the bounce and finesse of a guard, and the IQ of a vet. You collapse on him, he fades. You give him space, he pulls. And you try to recover? Too late."

"It's scary. He don't even look like he's using up energy anymore. Dude's playing like he's cruising in third gear."

"He's damn near at Jordan's peak level—but with a bigger body and longer wingspan. You're not blocking that."

---

By the fourth minute, Zhao Dong had cooked up 8 points on 3-of-4 shooting, including 2-for-2 from the line. Knicks led 12–6.

Pat Riley had seen enough—he called timeout.

The Heat came out with adjusted D. They pushed their bigs out, looking to force Zhao Dong away from his sweet spots.

Didn't matter.

Next possession, Mourning came out to hedge. Zhao Dong hit a quick in-front cross, blew past him on the baseline, and hammered a dunk over Luc Longley, sending him flying to the hardwood.

"It's over!" Marv shouted.

"You see that?" Goukas yelled. "If you step up, he drives. If you sag, he hits the J. That's Zhao Dong's game now—simple, brutal, unstoppable... and efficient."

---

The Knicks took down the Heat on their home floor that night.

The undefeated streak stayed alive.

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