On the left wing, Zhao Dong pushed the ball up, controlling the tempo and shifting directions before slicing past Pippen.
Harper quickly rotated over, cutting off the lane, and before Zhao Dong could fully blow by, Pippen recovered—trapping him in a double-team.
Ewing, posted up on the left block, suddenly spun and cut toward the rim.
Luc Longley was a step late, and Rodman, stationed on the weak side, darted over to help.
But Zhao Dong had already zipped the pass inside.
Ewing snagged it and got the layup off before Rodman could fully contest.
71-73, Knicks back on top.
"Rodman's gassed, man. You can see it—he's got no legs left," Matt Goukas called out.
"Dude only played 23 minutes and grabbed 8 boards," Marv added.
"He's old, he's hurt, and he's missed over 20 games this season," Goukas continued.
"Zhao Dong's closing in on a 5x5—just two steals and a block away. Let's see if he can get it," Marv Albert chimed in.
Bulls' Possession
Jordan brought it up and got swarmed by Oakley, Houston, and Charlie Ward.
Pippen had a better game than last time—moving well off-ball—but Zhao Dong wasn't letting him off easy. He'd managed 15 points and 3 dimes, but nothing special.
Seeing the heavy pressure on MJ, Pippen made a hard backdoor cut, exploiting the open paint.
Jordan read it and fired a quick pass inside.
Ewing abandoned Longley and rushed to protect the rim.
Zhao Dong, trailing Pippen, was right there too.
Instead of forcing the shot, Pippen kicked it out to Harper at the top of the key.
Harper had been wide open for a second, but by the time he caught it, Charlie Ward had closed out. With no clean look, he immediately swung it back.
Pippen flared out to the left wing to reset—except Zhao Dong read it the whole way.
Before Pippen could even get his hands on the ball—swipe!
"STRIPPED! Zhao Dong picked his pocket!" Marv Albert shouted.
Zhao Dong was off to the races.
Bulls scrambled to stop the break—Jordan and Harper rushed back from the left side.
Pippen sprinted behind Zhao Dong, reaching for a steal, but Zhao Dong hit a nasty direction shift, leaving him in the dust.
Harper, still ahead, had no choice but to keep running.
At the top of the arc, Harper had to commit—either turn or keep running into the stands.
The second he turned, Zhao Dong hit a slick behind-the-back dribble and blew past him.
Jordan was moving across from the left but had no angle.
Layup. Easy buckets.
71-75, Knicks by four.
Zhao Dong exhaled, then yelled out, "Get back! Lock in!"
The arena roared.
"Damn, this dude still has gas left?" Jordan thought, hands on his knees, eyes locked on Zhao Dong.
"Zhao Dong's stamina is just straight-up inhuman," Matt Goukas laughed.
"Pip's legs are shot—he's been grinding all game," Marv added.
A stat sheet was handed to the commentators, and Goukas' eyes widened.
"Yo, check this out. Zhao Dong: 10-for-20 from the field, 12-for-14 from the line. That's 32 points, 11 boards, 5 dimes, 4 steals, 4 blocks. He's one steal and one block away from a 5x5—the first in playoff history."
"No way," Marv Albert reacted. "If he pulls that off and gets this win? His stock in the league skyrockets."
"From superstar to legend?" Goukas grinned.
"No doubt."
"Only thing is—he ain't getting a triple-double tonight, which might hurt his series numbers," Grunfeld noted.
Goukas nodded. "He averaged a triple-double in the first round, but missed it in the second. Now? He's sitting at 9 dimes per game. He might still get there for the Conference Finals."
Bulls' Possession
Pippen kept moving, trying to shake Zhao Dong, but dude wasn't budging. He just had more juice in the tank.
After running in circles, Pippen still wasn't open.
Jordan sighed, popped outside the arc, and called for the rock.
"DOUBLE HIM!" Zhao Dong barked before the pass even arrived.
Charlie Ward lunged at Jordan.
MJ's jumper was ice-cold today, and he wasn't about to force anything. Instead, he zipped a pass to Harper—wide open.
"WATCH IT!" Jordan yelled the second the ball left his hands.
Too late.
Before Harper could even gather, a hand shot in from behind—
Poke! Loose ball!
Zhao Dong snatched it.
Harper tried to scrap for it, but Zhao Dong bulldozed past him and took off again.
"Oh! Another steal! Zhao Dong is on the break! Ain't nobody keeping up with him…" Marv Albert shouted, his voice electric with excitement.
"That's five steals!"
In the NBC broadcast booth, Matt Goukas and Marv Albert looked stunned.
"Man's one block away from history!"
On CCTV, Zhang Heli and Sun Zhenping were losing it.
Zhao Dong blitzed down the court straight from the arc. Two dribbles, and he was already at the top of the key. Harper and Pippen didn't even have a chance to catch up.
Then, Jordan came flying in from the left wing. The GOAT wasn't backing down in crunch time.
Zhao Dong stormed into the paint, cocked the ball back in his right hand, and took off with everything he had.
Jordan's eyes widened—he leaped, arm stretched to deny the dunk.
BANG!
The rim exploded as Zhao Dong hammered it down. Jordan got bodied mid-air, sent flying out of bounds, crashing headfirst into the media row.
"YEAH!"
The Knicks crowd lost their damn minds.
Zhao Dong landed, took a cold glance at Jordan sprawled in the crowd, then turned to his teammates sprinting over. "Lock in! One more stop!"
"DE-FENSE! DE-FENSE! DE-FENSE!" Madison Square Garden erupted.
71-77. The Knicks were straight-up bullying the Bulls with elite defense, racking up three straight buckets.
Phil Jackson had no choice. Timeout, Bulls.
Zhang Heli was hyped. "42 seconds left! The Bulls are in trouble! The Knicks are about to take this one home!"
Sun Zhenping added, "Gotta stay sharp, though. MJ at the buzzer? We've seen crazier comebacks."
"Yeah, you never count out Jordan," Zhang Heli agreed.
Over at NBC, Matt Goukas broke it down. "Both teams are gassed. But right now, it's all about who's got the legs left to push through. Zhao Dong? Still flying up and down the floor. That's what separates the greats—conditioning."
At the Bulls' bench, Phil Jackson was pissed. Two late-game turnovers? That's how you throw a game away.
"Eyes up! Read the floor! No dumb mistakes!" he barked. "Got it?"
Jordan, heated, clenched his jaw. "We'll bounce back."
Pippen? Man was exhausted. He ran his ass off all night and had zero gas left. But one thing was messing with his head—how the hell was Zhao Dong, 20 kilos heavier, still running at full speed?
Phil Jackson sighed. "Score first, then foul immediately. Listen up…"
Over at the Knicks' bench, the vibes were immaculate.
Thibodeau handed Zhao Dong the stat sheet, grinning. "One more block, man. You're making history."
"Wait… five-five?" Zhao Dong blinked.
Larry Johnson peeked over and whistled. "Oh damn, a playoff 5x5?"
Oakley smirked. "Yo, get that last block, young fella."
Alan Houston chimed in. "Let Pippen shoot."
Zhao Dong thought for a second, then shook his head. "Nah, winning comes first. I'm staying glued to Pippen, y'all focus on MJ."
"That's the right mindset," Van Gundy nodded.
MSG's PA announcer hyped up the moment. "We got history in the making, folks! One more block, and this man's in the record books! You know who I'm talking about?"
The jumbotron flashed Zhao Dong's wild stat line.
HATS ONE MORE! HATS ONE MORE!
The Knicks fans ate it up.
Jordan, still on the bench, scowled. "Scotty, don't get put on a damn poster."
"Then I'm not shooting," Pippen muttered. "If I get blocked, man, I'm gonna be in NBA history for the wrong reasons."
Jordan shot him a glare. "Just keep that dude outta the paint."
"Yeah, yeah," Pippen sighed.
Phil Jackson clapped his hands. "Let's go!"
Timeout over. Game on.
Bulls possession.
Pippen drifted near the left wing but stayed beyond the arc—dude wanted no part of Zhao Dong in the paint.
Zhao Dong hovered a couple of feet inside, baiting him. If Pippen pulled up, fine—man wasn't confident enough to take that shot.
Pippen hesitated. He was open, but… nah. Not worth it.
Zhao Dong locked onto him and kept an eye on Jordan, who had the rock on the right wing.
Charlie Ward and Alan Houston trapped Jordan, forcing a decision. Three options:
Take it himself
Dish to Harper
Kick to Pippen
Harper? Nah. Oakley was waiting at the free throw line, ready to contest.
Pippen? Hell no. Zhao Dong was lurking.
So Jordan did what he did best—ISO.
A filthy double crossover shook both defenders, and he exploded toward the rim.
Jordan attacking. Paint's about to get crowded.
Charlie Ward, who doubled Jordan, quickly rotated back to defend the top of the key, while Houston chased after Jordan.
Zhao Dong saw Jordan about to drive into the paint but didn't fall back to protect the rim. Instead, he stepped up, ready to make a move.
If Ewing and Oakley couldn't stop Jordan, he was ready to take off in transition. Once Jordan got inside, the Bulls had nobody to stop his fast break. Pippen wouldn't keep up, and Harper? He'd get trucked.
Still, the fast break was just an option. Zhao Dong was more locked in on Pippen, knowing Jordan might kick it out.
Jordan attacked the lane, with Ewing sitting under the rim and Oakley stepping up to double with Houston trailing behind. Seeing the wide-open lane for Pippen, Jordan went for a jump pass, flinging the ball with both hands mid-air.
The second Jordan lifted off, Zhao Dong reacted—instantly turning and closing in on Pippen.
Whoosh!
The ball zipped toward Pippen, who caught it clean.
Zhao Dong had one more step before landing.
Pippen knew the shot was a risk, but what was he supposed to do? Pass it back? Hell no. He had to take it.
He rose up, hands high.
At the same moment, Zhao Dong planted his second step and launched, flying at Pippen with everything he had.
Pippen released. Zhao Dong stretched out his left hand.
The entire arena held its breath.
Bang!
The ball got smacked.
Madison Square Garden erupted.
"5x5! HISTORY IN THE MAKING!"
The courtside commentator damn near jumped out of his seat, gripping the mic like a madman.
"This man just made history! The first-ever 5x5 in NBA Playoff history! And who is it? The Knicks' very own superstar—Zhao Dong!"
On the sidelines, Shaq, Magic, and the other legends got up, clapping in respect.
On the court, Pippen just stood there, stunned.
A few feet away, Jordan's face was ice cold.
"This statline is ridiculous!" Marv Albert shouted. "Zhao Dong put up an assist, two steals, and a block in the last three minutes. That's his second 5x5 ever and his first in the playoffs. He's rewriting the record books!"
"The greatest undrafted player in NBA history, hands down," Matt Goukas added. "Knicks GM Ernie Grunfeld might just be the best executive of the season."
"Zhao Dong, my man, you just delivered in crunch time!"
CCTV's Zhang Heli and Sun Zhenping couldn't stop smiling.
Meanwhile, the Bulls had possession with 20 seconds left. The Knicks clamped down on defense, forcing Jordan to eat 13 seconds on the clock before drawing a foul. He bricked the shot but earned two free throws.
Jordan had been automatic from the line tonight. Swish. Swish.
73-77.
Seven seconds left.
Knicks ball.
Jordan immediately fouled Allan Houston with 4.2 seconds on the clock.
Houston drained the first but bricked the second.
Rodman came up clutch, snagging the board.
Whistle!
Zhao Dong immediately fouled him.
Rodman blinked, confused as hell.
His free throw percentage? 58%. Practically Shaq-level.
Shaq, watching from the sidelines, burst out laughing.
"Yeah, this game's a wrap!" Matt Goukas chuckled.
"Smart foul," Marv Albert nodded. "Jordan was about to sprint down the court. Now? They gotta rely on Rodman from the line. That's a gamble the Knicks will take any day."
"Damn it, Dennis. Just hit the damn shots," Jordan muttered, frustrated.
That's when Zhao Dong smirked.
"Yo, 'God of Gambling'—same bet as last time? 300K. Rodman makes none, max. If there's a rebound, it's ours."
Jordan gritted his teeth but nodded. A bet was a bet.
Zhao Dong turned to Ewing and Oakley. "Whoever grabs the board gets half."
"OHHHHH!" Oakley whooped. Ewing just grinned.
Jordan sighed. "Man, shut the hell up and let him shoot."
Rodman, clearly shook, overthought his first shot.
Brick.
"Damn it!" Both he and Jordan cursed.
Zhao Dong clapped. "Keep 'em coming, Big Worm!"
Rodman shot him a glare but refocused, dribbling the ball a few times.
Brick. Again.
Under the rim, Ewing and Oakley both jumped. Oakley muscled out Rodman and snagged the board before getting fouled by Pippen.
Zhao Dong chuckled. "Congrats, Oak. That's $150K in your pocket."
"Tell Jordan to write that check early," Oakley laughed.
Zhao Dong grinned at Jordan. "You heard him, Gambling God."
Jordan's face was stone cold. "Shut up. This ain't over."
73-78. 2.9 seconds left.
Oakley at the line.
His free throw percentage? 76%. Not bad.
Zhao Dong leaned over, smirking. "Yo, MJ, I heard you bet on damn near everything. Wanna double down? Same deal."
Jordan scoffed. "You scared?"
"You? Hell no."
Jordan smirked. "Fine. Bet's on."
Just like Zhao Dong, he promised half to whoever got the rebound.
Oakley swished the first but bricked the second.
Under the basket, the Knicks had the numbers—three-on-two.
Oakley boxed out Rodman, while Ewing and Longley fought for the board.
The ball bounced loose—right into Zhao Dong's hands.
Without hesitating, he flung it to Charlie Ward, killing any chance for a foul.
Ward took off, dribbling as the final seconds ticked away.
Buzzer. Game over.
Madison Square Garden ERUPTED.
The Knicks took both home games, grabbing a commanding lead. Fans went absolutely nuts.
On the court, Knicks players mobbed each other in celebration. The bench stormed onto the floor.
Jordan? He wasn't having it. His face was dark as hell as he stormed out, ignoring reporters.
THE KNICKS WERE ON TOP.
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