NBA: The Dynasty Crusher (Basketball)

Inside the NBC commentary booth, Bob Costas, Doug Collins, and Isiah Thomas sat under the lights as the atmosphere inside the Garden buzzed with anticipation.

Bob Costas: "You know, Doug, there's a lot riding on this game. The Spurs have their Twin Towers on full display, but this might be their last real shot at a title."

Doug Collins: "Absolutely, Bob. David Robinson's not the same as he was last year. His window's closing fast, and with how fierce the West is getting, especially with Shaq and the Lakers on the rise, this season might be it for San Antonio."

Isiah Thomas: "Man, and if they can't get it done now, I don't think this Twin Towers setup is surviving the summer. Players want rings, but they also want minutes, stats, and paychecks."

Bob: "Speaking of which, that's the challenge of sustaining a dynasty. Look at the Knicks—back-to-back champions, but holding onto talent is a whole different game."

Doug: "Exactly. When you win a chip, player value skyrockets. Guys want their payday. If they're near the end of their contracts, they'll chase bigger deals elsewhere. Even if they're locked in, role players might demand a trade to get more touches, more time, more opportunity."

Isiah: "Like Allan Houston. Won his ring, then headed to Houston to be a starter. Oakley did the same thing."

Doug (chuckling): "The Knicks lost guys after the '96-'97 title run, then lost more after going back-to-back last year. That's just how it works. After this season? Expect another exodus."

Bob: "Ben Wallace lost his starting role in the playoffs. He's gotta be thinking about leaving, right?"

Doug: "Definitely. And not just him. Billups too. Even Wang Zhizhi could bounce."

Isiah (surprised): "Dazhi? You think he's out?"

Doug: "Why not? With his size and improved defense, he's got what it takes to start for a rebuilding team. He won't get that chance in New York. He needs the reps, the stats—to show what he can do. That's what guys want. Bigger roles, better numbers, and then a fat contract."

---

Second Quarter – Knicks vs. Spurs

The second quarter tipped off, and the Spurs went all-in. David Robinson and Tim Duncan stayed on the court—no rest, no rotation. This was do-or-die.

Doug: "This is Robinson's last, best shot to win one with the team that drafted him. Next year? He'll be a step slower. Meanwhile, Shaq and the Lakers are gonna be a problem."

Isiah: "Exactly. The West's getting crowded. The Spurs gotta go all-in now."

Meanwhile, Knicks coach Don Nelson shook things up. Instead of matching size with size, he doubled down on speed. Out came his small-ball unit: Zhao Dong at the four, Hu Weidong, Latrell Sprewell, Charlie Ward, and Chauncey Billups.

One big, four guards. One inside, four out. A speed-first, defense-second lineup built to outrun San Antonio's Twin Towers.

Bob (raising an eyebrow): "Coach Nelson's rolling the dice here. No interior presence. No rebounding muscle. Is this strategy or just chaos?"

Doug: "It's a gamble, Bob. He's sacrificing defense for tempo. If the Spurs can't get back in transition, the Knicks could pour in buckets."

Isiah: "But how are they gonna defend the paint? Zhao Dong is versatile, yeah, but he can't hold off Duncan and Robinson by himself."

And the gamble almost backfired.

The Knicks ran a fast-paced attack that caught the Spurs flat-footed, but on the other end, they were bleeding points in the paint. Duncan and Robinson feasted inside.

With six minutes left in the quarter, the Spurs cut the lead to 36–32.

Realizing his experiment was backfiring, Coach Nelson called timeout and switched to a power lineup.

Back came Dazhi, Fordson, and Charles Barkley, joined by Sprewell and Zhao Dong. The Golden Tyrant slid back to the point forward role, anchoring the tempo and stabilizing both ends of the floor.

By halftime, the Knicks were back in control. The lead stretched into double digits once more.

---

NBC Booth – Halftime Breakdown

Doug: "This is why Zhao Dong is the most dangerous weapon in the league. You can't have a single weak link on the floor against him. He'll find it and exploit it until your defense collapses."

Isiah: "If you wanna beat New York, you need five guys who can move, defend, and rotate. If even one guy's a step too slow, Zhao Dong's blowing past or bullying him in the post."

Bob: "It's interesting. When Jordan's Bulls ran the league, their frontcourt wasn't dominant. Horace Grant was solid, sure, but nothing like Duncan or Robinson."

Doug: "Exactly. The Bulls had the Iron Triangle, but their inside game wasn't overwhelming. Grant could cut, rebound, defend, but he couldn't dominate under the rim. If that Bulls team met today's Knicks? Zhao Dong would absolutely tear up that front line."

Isiah: "And it's not just about size—Zhao Dong adapts. If you're weak inside, he bullies the paint. If you're weak on the perimeter, he plays out on the wing and shreds you with speed and vision. He's the kind of player that forces your whole lineup to evolve."

An hour later, the final buzzer echoed through Madison Square Garden.

Final Score: Knicks 105, Spurs 86.

With that, the New York Knicks were crowned the 1998-99 NBA Champions—securing their third straight title and officially establishing a dynasty.

Zhao Dong played all 48 minutes, putting up a legendary stat line:

17-of-25 shooting, including 2-of-4 from deep, and a perfect 14-for-14 from the line.

He racked up 50 points, 11 rebounds, and 10 assists—a Finals Game 5 triple-double on insane efficiency.

Bob Costas (NBC Broadcast): "Unbelievable performance! Zhao Dong just put the God of Efficiency stamp on this Finals!"

Doug Collins: "He's not just the Finals MVP—he's the most dominant player on the planet right now."

Isiah Thomas: "This ain't just three titles… this is the birth of a dynasty. The Knicks are the new standard."

The crowd at Madison Square Garden erupted.

"Yeahhhhhhhh!!"

"Dynasty! Dynasty! Dynasty!"

The chants shook the arena to its foundation.

Zhao Dong raised both arms at center court as his teammates mobbed him.

On the sidelines, Charles Barkley was going wild—tears streaming down his face, pure joy washing over him.

Fifteen years in the league. Countless battles. Finally, a ring.

"OH, OH, OH—WE DID IT!" Barkley screamed, his voice cracking.

He wasn't just along for the ride—he was one of the main guys this series, contributing big minutes and big buckets. No one could say he got carried.

"Charles! Congratulations!" his wife shouted as she hugged him tightly.

"Haha… baby, you were right. You told me to come to New York, and I didn't believe it… Now I gotta thank you. I'm so damn happy!"

"No, Charles, you need to thank Zhao Dong."

"Right—where's my guy at?!"

"With Mrs. Lindsay. We'll go in a sec."

"Perfect!"

Across the court, Kevin Willis, Barkley's fellow draftee, was also in tears. Like Barkley, he'd battled for 15 years, and though he was a bench guy now, he earned this ring. He held his wife tight, shaking from the emotion.

Meanwhile, Latrell Sprewell, once labeled "Madman" after the infamous choking incident, had found redemption in New York. He shouted and laughed, tears in his eyes as he embraced his teammates.

Chris Fordson had lost his starting spot in the regular season but regained it in the playoffs and even started in the Finals. He danced on the court like a man reborn.

Ben Wallace, on the other hand, wore a more complicated expression.

He'd been a backup this time, barely getting minutes after losing his starting role in the postseason. Though he now had two rings, the shine had dimmed.

His contract had expired. He hadn't earned much these last three years and didn't get a big cut of Zhao Dong's endorsements either. He wanted more. He wanted to start, to get paid. He wanted his moment.

Zhao Dong and agent Ringo Wells had already told him:

"We support you going to a team where you can start and sign that big deal. We know the Knicks can't give that to a defense-only center."

Chauncey Billups was also weighing his future. He had two rings now, but in this year's Finals, he lost his starting spot.

He wanted to be on a team where he could truly run the offense—not just hand it off to Zhao Dong and stand in the corner.

Larry Johnson, one of Zhao Dong's original core teammates, had no such worries. He'd won three rings, made bank, and played an important role. He and Charlie Ward were the only players besides Zhao Dong to be part of all three championships.

He'd already made up his mind—this was his last dance. His body was done, but his heart was full.

"Dazhi, man, congrats! You're a starting center on a championship team now. No one's stopping you from being the man on another squad!"

Hu Weidong said, giving his friend a hard pat on the back.

"Haha…" A big grin spread across Wang Zhizhi's face. His eyes were already dreaming of the next level.

"Dazhi, Brother Hu, congrats!"

Yao Ming approached with a smile, clapping for his countrymen.

He wanted what they had—a championship. But with Zhao Dong still young and utterly dominant, it felt like there was no room for anyone else to win for a long time.

"Man… how long do I have to wait to win one?" he thought with quiet envy.

Back on the NBC broadcast, Bob Costas' voice filled the arena and televisions around the world:

"Tonight, the Knicks join the Celtics, Lakers, and Bulls as the fourth official dynasty in NBA history!"

"Congratulations to Madison Square Garden. You've become the true Mecca of Basketball."

"Congratulations to Zhao Dong. You've built this dynasty, led your team, and proven yourself the most dominant and efficient player in the league."

"Ladies and gentlemen—say hello to the God of Efficiency!"

The crowd went wild once more.

"GOD OF EFFICIENCY! GOD OF EFFICIENCY! GOD OF EFFICIENCY!"

Zhao Dong stood at center court, raising both arms again, soaking in the love. His teammates surrounded him, then lifted him into the air.

NBA Commissioner David Stern came out with the trophy.

"Congratulations, Zhao Dong," Stern smiled, handing him the Larry O'Brien Championship Trophy.

Moments later, Stern handed him the Finals MVP Trophy.

"Back-to-back-to-back champion. Back-to-back Finals MVP. The dynasty is yours, Zhao Dong."

The flashbulbs lit up the court as Zhao Dong held both trophies, standing next to Lindsay.

Kacha! Kacha!

Cameras clicked nonstop.

Yang Yi, the Chinese media correspondent, approached for an interview.

"Zhao Dong, congratulations on establishing a great dynasty. What do you want to say most right now?"

"Thank you to the fans, to New York, to China… and most of all to my teammates," Zhao Dong said with a bright smile.

Thomas, one of the traveling beat reporters, stepped in next.

"Zhao Dong, many players might leave this offseason. The Knicks may not be as strong next year. Any thoughts on that?"

"That's normal," Zhao Dong nodded. 

"Everyone has their own dreams, their own priorities. I hope they all find teams where they can shine."

"As for us? I'm sure the Knicks will bring in guys hungry to win. I hope we'll still be a championship contender next season."

In truth, Zhao Dong had already felt the cracks forming—especially in the playoffs when Coach Don Nelson started mixing up the lineup. Chemistry had dipped, and some guys didn't seem as hungry anymore.

Players like Ben Wallace were thinking about contracts now—not titles. And Zhao Dong understood.

"I'm not gonna blame Ben," he thought. "Just because I'm set financially doesn't mean everyone else is. This is a business. Everyone's trying to secure their future."

Another reporter pushed in with a follow-up.

"Zhao Dong, do you know specifically who plans to leave?"

"I don't," he said calmly. "And even if I did, I wouldn't ask. That's their decision. I won't put pressure on anyone."

The interview wrapped up. Zhao Dong gave Lindsay a kiss on the cheek and had her escorted back to the hotel.

Tonight, it was time to party with the team.

After sending Lindsay home, Zhao Dong headed back into the locker room. The moment he stepped through the door, he was instantly drenched in champagne.

"Tonight's our night!"

He let out a wild yell, grabbed a bottle, gave it a few aggressive shakes, popped the cork, and blasted it straight into the air like a fire hose, soaking his teammates in the process.

James Dolan had gone all out—there were cases of champagne stacked along the wall, more than enough for the entire squad to go berserk. By the time they were done, the floor was a puddle, and the whole room smelled like a victory celebration.

"All right, hit the showers! We're not done yet," Zhao Dong shouted over the noise. "The real party's just getting started. I've got something special lined up for you guys."

"Yo boss, what kind of program?" Fordson asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Zhao Dong smirked. "You'll see. It's a secret."

---

An hour later, the Knicks showed up to the hottest nightclub in Manhattan, dressed to the nines—every one of them suited up like they were walking a fashion runway. The club had been fully booked by the organization. No fans. No reporters. No media. Strictly team-only.

As soon as they stepped inside, someone let out a loud gasp.

"What the hell is that?"

"Oh my god, boss! You didn't—did you?"

"No way... that giant wine glass... isn't that... her?"

Sitting right in the center of the stage was a massive glass goblet—an iconic prop that only one performer in the world used.

Barkley circled the glass like a lion ready to pounce, wiping the corners of his mouth. Then he turned to Zhao Dong with wide eyes. "Zhao Dong, don't mess with me. Is it really her?"

Zhao Dong folded his arms and grinned proudly. "Who else would it be?"

"OOOHHHHH!"

The room erupted. Guys hollered and slapped each other's shoulders like it was Game 7 all over again.

The music hit. Lights dimmed. Then from behind the curtains, Dita Von Teese walked out with the poise of royalty and the allure of sin.

"Damn!"

Even Fordson was practically drooling. Every guy in the room locked eyes on her like deer in headlights.

Zhao Dong clapped his hands. "Don't just stare! Glass is still empty—let's get this party started!"

Waiters came out in waves, each holding silver trays stacked with bottles of champagne. The players surged forward like it was a rebound scramble, each grabbing as many bottles as they could carry and pouring them into the goblet.

"Allow me, Miss Von Teese," Billups said with a gentleman's bow, then delicately helped her remove the sheer robe hanging off her shoulders.

She spun gracefully, discarding the gauze-like material. Her next stop was Dazhi, who stood frozen like a deer in headlights. She gave him a sultry glance, signaling him to assist.

"M-me?"

Dazhi stammered, hands trembling. His face turned redder than a game-night jersey. He looked more panicked than when guarding Karl Malone in the paint.

"Oh, get outta the way!" Fordson pushed forward. "Let me help!"

"Back off, rookie!" Barkley barked. "Seniority rules! I go next!"

Kevin Willis chimed in immediately, "Yeah, I'm next after Sir Charles!"

Fordson looked crushed. "Come on! I didn't even get to take off the robe. At this rate, I'll only get to pluck her wig!"

"PFFT—HAHAHAHA!"

Laughter exploded across the room. Some players were literally doubled over.

Von Teese, however, barely blinked. Her eyes held a trace of disdain. These weren't her usual crowd of tuxedo-wearing elites. But two million dollars was two million dollars. She could stomach anything for one night at that price.

Zhao Dong wasn't part of the ruckus. He sat at the back of the lounge, sipping slowly and observing. Beside him was Hu Weidong, watching the madness unfold with a sigh.

"Man, these sugar-coated bullets," Hu muttered. "Deadlier than any opponent on the court. These guys have all fallen."

Zhao Dong chuckled. "Brother Hu, you've been here two years already. Don't tell me you haven't eaten a few sugar coatings yourself?"

"I ate the sugar, spat out the bullet," Hu Weidong said seriously. "No damage taken."

"PFFT—"

Dazhi had finally escaped the chaos and joined them. His cheeks were still flushed when he heard that, and he couldn't help bursting into laughter.

---

By the time the party ended, the sun had already started rising. Zhao Dong stumbled into his house reeking of alcohol.

After a quick shower, he slid into bed beside Lindsay, accidentally waking her up.

She sniffed at him with a wrinkle in her nose. Luckily for Zhao Dong, she only caught the scent of champagne and liquor—nothing else suspicious.

---

When Zhao Dong opened his eyes, it was already 10 a.m.

At noon, Zhao Dong and Lindsay, accompanied by bodyguards, arrived at the Knicks headquarters in Madison Square Garden. The entire team was already gathered, waiting for them.

With the couple's arrival, the Knicks' Dynasty Parade Celebration officially kicked off.

First stop: New York City Hall, where Mayor Giuliani gave a short speech and awarded the team with ceremonial keys to the city.

Then came the real show—the parade through Manhattan, the loudest, proudest borough in basketball. Fans lined the streets in waves, thousands holding up signs with slogans like Golden Tyrant of the East and Zhao Dong for Mayor.

The next stop was Long Island, which had turned into the heart of Zhao Dong's empire. This was his true home court, his personal kingdom.

The convoy passed through Stony Brook University, where Zhao Dong had once walked as a student. Seeing the campus again hit him with a flood of nostalgia.

"Damn," he muttered. "I haven't been back in half a year."

The university looked livelier than ever—and the student body had gotten a lot prettier, too.

Zhao Dong tried to keep a straight face, but Hu Weidong smirked beside him. "Careful, brother. Lindsay's watching."

The three-day celebration wore them all down, but the moment was too big not to savor. They had done what few teams in NBA history ever could—built a dynasty.

And at the center of it all stood Zhao Dong—the Golden Tyrant of New York.

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