Zhao Dong clocked in for just 30 minutes but left an unforgettable mark.
28 points, 11 rebounds, 8 assists, 4 steals, and 6 blocks.
A dominant all-around performance.
The game was over before it ever felt close.
Analysts, fans—even the Lakers coaching staff—had expected a tight contest. Some even gave L.A. the edge.
But from the opening tip, the Knicks crushed them.
A complete one-sided beatdown.
Despite sitting out the fourth quarter, Zhao Dong was named Player of the Game, and immediately brought in for post-game interviews.
---
A Los Angeles Sports reporter stepped up.
"Zhao Dong, can you give us your thoughts on this game?"
Zhao took a breath, organizing his response.
"I think this game had three phases.
First, right after the tip-off, we executed our game plan to perfection. Tactically, we caught the Lakers off guard and completely shut down Shaq.
Second, after they subbed in Robert Horry for Ben Wallace, Shaq got some room to operate. We adjusted immediately, switched to an on-ball double-team, and neutralized him again. Our defense dictated the pace.
The third phase? That was all mental.
The Lakers lost their cohesion. They played as individuals, not as a team. It was their weakest moment, and that's when we pulled away completely.
Tonight wasn't just a win—it was a tactical victory, and full credit goes to our coaching staff."
The reporter pressed on.
"Do you think the Lakers underperformed tonight?"
Zhao nodded slightly.
"This wasn't their real strength. Especially in that third stretch, they collapsed. If this were the Finals? That would've been a disaster for them."
"What should the Lakers do next?" the reporter asked.
Zhao was blunt.
"The first two phases were coaching failures—tactical breakdowns. Yes, there are flaws in the lineup, but that's not the root issue.
The real problem is what happened in the third phase. They lacked unity. No willpower. The game was over for them in the first quarter. That kind of mentality can't win you anything, let alone a title."
Meanwhile, inside the Lakers locker room?
Silence.
No one wanted to speak. Some players went straight to the showers. Others sat quietly, heads down.
No interviews. No explanations. Just frustration.
Outside, Phil Jackson and GM Jerry West stood against the wall, deep in conversation.
"Jerry, this roster has holes..."
"You think I don't know that? But trading mid-season is tough," West replied quietly, his eyes fixed on the floor.
Both were visibly disappointed.
West had worked tirelessly to build this roster, and now it had been demolished in front of a national audience.
Then the reporter who had interviewed Zhao Dong walked up.
"Jerry," he said. "There's something you should hear."
"Go ahead," West urged.
The reporter—John—repeated Zhao Dong's comments word-for-word. Especially the part about the Lakers' lack of cohesion, willpower, and leadership.
"Honestly, he's right," John added. "This isn't about lineups or systems. Not yet. If your locker room is fractured, the rest doesn't matter."
Jerry West nodded solemnly. Then looked toward Phil Jackson.
"Thanks, John," he said, patting his shoulder.
Phil, however, looked irritated.
"So now tactics come before the lineup?" he muttered under his breath.
Still, he couldn't argue. Zhao Dong had exposed their flaws—and the scoreboard backed it up.
"Shaq's not the locker room leader Zhao Dong is," Phil said quietly. "Kobe's still young, volatile. Maybe we bring in a vet. Someone who can calm things down... pull them together."
West nodded again.
It wasn't a bad idea.
An hour later, both teams held post-game press conferences.
The Lakers' media room was packed. Cameras everywhere. Reporters itching for answers.
First up—Phil Jackson.
"Coach Jackson, where did it go wrong tonight?"
Phil took a deep breath.
"Tactics weren't the biggest issue. It was our mindset. Once we fell behind, the team lost morale. The players disconnected and played as individuals. That's what really cost us."
But the reporters weren't letting it go.
"Coach, let's talk tactics. Your system didn't allow Shaq to showcase his dominance. He faced constant double and triple teams under the basket. How do you fix that?"
Phil's jaw tightened.
He hated this line of questioning. He'd faced it before—when the Bulls lost to the Knicks—and now it was happening again.
"If Jordan hadn't forced Zhao Dong out," he thought bitterly, "I'd be coaching that monster. And Jordan would still be in Chicago."
Now, Jordan was with the Dallas Mavericks, backed by Zhao Dong's agency and resources—living in a franchise he practically owned.
Phil exhaled and spoke.
"Tactical problems can be addressed. For example, when Shaq draws the double, Wallace can screen or roll, or we can activate the wings. There are solutions. But I can't run five plays at once—I have to test each in sequence. That's what the regular season is for."
A reporter quickly followed up:
"But Coach, none of those adjustments worked tonight."
Phil shook his head, clearly agitated.
"The game flipped too fast. Zhao Dong dunked over Shaq, then blocked him repeatedly. Our guys shut down mentally before the first quarter ended. From that moment on, nothing worked. I tried to adjust, but the execution fell apart. I'm disappointed. I take responsibility."
Next to him, Shaq rolled his eyes.
"Seriously, Phil? Why you dragging me into this again?"
Phil continued:
"So no, tactics weren't the biggest failure. The real issue is the team's mindset. Our locker room needs to be stronger—more stable, more united."
A reporter raised his voice:
"So you are saying there's a problem in the locker room?"
Phil flinched.
"No—no, I'm not saying that. I mean... we just need better chemistry. Better unity."
Phil Jackson was growing visibly irritated.
He tried to redirect the post-game press conference, but the media kept circling back to one issue: locker room disunity.
"...We need a more united locker room. A more stable locker room," he said with forced calm.
But it was too late.
The cracks had already been exposed—and by morning, on December 29th, the story had exploded across major sports outlets.
---
Back in the Lakers locker room, Phil and Jerry West pulled the players aside.
The mood was ice cold. No one was talking. Shaquille O'Neal, usually the life of the room, sat stone-faced and silent.
Jerry West took the floor.
"Look, I know everyone's disappointed," he began. "I am too. But if we don't fix this, we'll lose the next time we see the Knicks... and probably every time after."
He turned to Shaq, then Kobe, then Ron Harper.
"So—what do you guys think?"
The silence broke.
Shaq spoke first.
"Yeah, Jerry, I agree. We've got to figure this out."
Harper followed, arms crossed.
"Then let's fix it. Whatever it takes."
Kobe looked up slowly, his voice cold and sharp.
"We don't need to talk. We need to work harder. That's the real problem."
The room froze.
Kobe's tone wasn't subtle. It was an indirect jab—at everyone, especially Shaq.
He'd always hated Shaq's relaxed attitude toward training. To him, talent without discipline was a betrayal of the game.
West rubbed his forehead.
He had staked his reputation on Kobe. Traded Vlade Divac for him back in '96. Pushed for him to start in Year 2. Handed him the offense by Year 3.
And Kobe delivered—through sweat, fire, and obsession.
But his personality? That was West's biggest headache. He didn't blend with teammates. He didn't try to.
Phil Jackson stepped in.
"Kobe's right," Phil said. "If we don't put in the work—serious work—we're going to get cooked again. Especially by Zhao Dong."
He let the name hang in the air.
"I coached against that guy. Even Jordan's Bulls couldn't beat him. And now, even without a full championship core, the Knicks are still dominant. Stronger than anyone expected."
He glanced around the room.
"Shaq, you're the leader of this team. Do you agree?"
Shaq didn't hesitate.
"I'm not getting embarrassed like that again," he growled. "Yeah, I'm in."
Phil nodded.
"Then we have to be unified. No more 'my touches' or 'his shots.' You've seen how the Knicks operate. Three guards—all ball handlers—and not a single complaint about who runs the offense."
He looked right at Ron Harper, whose eyes shifted. He knew what Phil meant.
There were moments in the last game when he'd intentionally ignored Kobe's calls for the ball.
Kobe, meanwhile, looked satisfied. He assumed Phil was backing him up.
But Phil wasn't singling anyone out.
He was trying to make one point: The ball must move. Tactics must lead. Ego must follow.
He explained this clearly, with calm but firm repetition—one of his greatest coaching skills.
Finally, the tension in the room began to ease.
Once the issue of ball distribution was addressed, Phil moved on to the real storm—Shaq and Kobe.
Their personalities couldn't have been more different.
Shaq? A natural. Gifted. But lazy. Off the court, he joked around, chased the spotlight, and trained only when pressured.
Kobe? A relentless machine. Focused. Silent. Grinding through offseasons like a soldier. He had no time for jokes or excuses.
The conflict was inevitable. And it came sooner in this timeline, because this version of Kobe was even more obsessed than the one from Phil's past.
Still, Phil knew he couldn't force a resolution.
Shaq was still the team's cornerstone.
Kobe was its future.
Both were untouchable.
All he could do was manage the fallout—mediate, stabilize, and maximize the team's ceiling.
---
"Shaq," Phil said, "what's the plan when we walk into Madison Square Garden?"
Shaq's eyes lit up with fury.
"I'm gonna dunk on that guy. I'm gonna knock him over!"
He didn't have to say the name.
They all knew who he meant.
"Zhao Dong," Phil replied calmly. "He's fast. You'll need help. If they trap you off-ball again, you might not even touch it."
He stepped closer, guiding now.
"Let Kobe drive the weak side. Pull Zhao's attention. That'll open the lane for you to get your revenge. What do you think?"
Shaq scowled.
"Then why didn't we do that tonight?"
Phil sighed.
"Shaq... you've got to study the game. Kobe ran that exact action several times tonight. Weak-side drives, cuts into the lane, post feeds. But there was no chemistry. No sync.
You were playing your game, he was playing his. There was no connection."
Shaq's shoulders slumped slightly. He muttered under his breath:
"That bastard Zhao Dong ruined my night…"
The room was quiet again.
They all knew it wasn't just one man. The team lost as a unit.
But Phil knew the truth.
This wasn't a team loss—it was a leadership failure.
Shaq was the alpha. The centerpiece. The soul of the Lakers.
But he let Zhao Dong get in his head. And he never pulled the team out of it.
That's what sunk them in the first quarter—not tactics, not talent, but a collapse in mindset.