Barkley laughed and said, "Zhao Dong made 8 of 10 shots and went 4-for-4 at the line, putting up 20 points, 6 rebounds, 3 assists, 1 steal, 1 block, and just 1 foul in a single quarter. His efficiency is off the charts. The Lakers' defense on him? Completely ineffective."
Kenny Smith shook his head and exclaimed, "Since Zhao Dong started heating up in the playoffs, the Knicks' offense has clearly leveled up. Thirty-point quarters are becoming routine for them."
Barkley's tone suddenly turned serious. "To make this Finals more suspenseful, the Lakers must figure out how to slow Zhao Dong down and get O'Neal more touches. If not, this series is going to be a sweep—and our ratings will take a hit."
Smith chuckled. "So Charles, based on what we saw in the first quarter, are the Lakers even on the Knicks' level?"
Shaking his head, Barkley said, "Shaq is the key. His offensive game hasn't fully activated yet. Phil Jackson's got to figure out how to get him more touches inside. Because once O'Neal gets rolling at the rim, not even two Zhao Dongs can stop him."
"Unstoppable! Absolutely unstoppable!"
On the CCTV broadcast, Zhang Heli summarized Zhao Dong's first-quarter performance with awe.
Su Qun added excitedly, "We always talk about how dominant Ben Wallace is on defense, but against Zhao Dong, he looks helpless."
Zhang Heli nodded. "Zhao Dong's offensive arsenal is just too complete. He never gives Big Ben a chance to settle in. Whether it's pulling him out or blowing past him, Zhao's foot speed and agility are at another level."
"Second, Ben Wallace is more effective as a help defender. One-on-one, especially against big, technical forwards like Zhao Dong, he struggles. And let's not forget—Zhao Dong's not only technically elite, but he's built like a tank."
"And third, familiarity. Zhao Dong knows Big Ben inside and out. This is a classic case of a dimensional mismatch. It's no surprise Ben's being picked apart."
On the Lakers' sideline, GM Jerry West looked visibly concerned.
Signing Ben Wallace to anchor the defense had made sense. He helped relieve pressure off O'Neal in the regular season and allowed the Big Diesel to conserve energy. But in the Finals? Against this Knicks team? Big Ben looked more like a liability.
Head coach Phil Jackson wasn't hiding his frustration either.
Every time O'Neal rolled to the rim, the Knicks sent a shadow double-team. Wallace couldn't stretch the floor to pull Zhao Dong away, so Shaq was being double-teamed the moment he touched the paint.
Phil needed to make a call—keep Ben Wallace in and risk stagnation, or sub him out for someone who could at least stretch the defense.
The second quarter began with Zhao Dong and Kobe leading their respective bench units. Big Ben stayed on the floor, but within three minutes the score was 40–24. Knicks up by 16.
Phil Jackson had seen enough.
If Ben couldn't slow Zhao Dong down, maybe they needed to shift their strategy. Even if Horry couldn't defend Zhao Dong, at least he could space the floor and keep one of the Knicks' bigs away from O'Neal.
Timeout.
Jackson called for the starters. O'Neal returned, Wallace came off, and Robert Horry checked in at power forward.
Phil gave Horry one assignment—space the floor. Live in that left corner like a sniper.
He knew Horry's three-point percentage wasn't great—just 30.9% in the regular season and an even worse 28.8% in the playoffs—but he trusted Horry's big-game nerves.
As soon as Shaq stepped onto the court, he thundered straight into the post. Horry drifted to the left corner, coiled and ready.
Zhao Dong had no choice. With Horry now spacing, he had to take O'Neal solo. Backup forward Gary Trent covered Horry.
But as soon as Zhao tried to body up Shaq, he got bulldozed. O'Neal sealed, caught the lob, and hammered home an alley-oop dunk.
"Boom!"
Shaq hung on the rim and let out a primal roar. Madison Square Garden shook.
Barkley shook his head on the TN broadcast. "Man, Zhao Dong's a beast, but against Shaq in the paint, he's undersized. Once Shaq gets two feet in the paint, you need to double him—there's no other way."
Smith added, "Zhao Dong's got to pick his spots. He can't go all-in on defense against Shaq or he'll foul out fast. He's too valuable offensively."
Barkley nodded. "Exactly. So now it's a matter of who the Knicks are willing to release. Someone's got to be left open."
Smith asked, "Who's the best bet to sag off?"
Barkley shrugged. "Ron Harper? But he's still crafty. Kobe and Glen Rice are off-limits. That leaves Horry."
Smith replied, "Well, that's on Coach Nelson. He's got to choose his poison."
Back on the floor, Zhao Dong caught the ball on the left wing. Horry guarded him alone.
Unlike Big Ben, Horry played with length and spacing—not brute strength. His stance was wide, his arms active. He dared Zhao to go inside.
Zhao Dong studied the floor. Horry may not have Wallace's grit, but he had the length and timing to be a nuisance.
The third quarter opened under the piercing lights of the Staples Center, the energy of a packed playoff crowd buzzing through the rafters. On TNT, Smith's voice rang out.
"And we are back, third quarter underway—Zhao Dong and Shaquille O'Neal trading body blows like heavyweight champions. Charles, this has turned into a one-on-one war in the paint!"
Charles leaned in.
"No doubt about it, Smith. The Knicks are throwing out a small-ball unit. Zhao Dong is their tallest player at six-nine, and he's battling Shaq one-on-one. That's like throwing a rope around a freight train."
On the court, Big Ben Wallace had been hounding Zhao Dong like a shadow in the first half, sticking to him with Scottie Pippen-like discipline. Whenever Zhao Dong made a move, Wallace was there, chest-to-chest, arms up, denying him even the opportunity to receive a pass.
Zhao Dong's answer?
Textbook.
He suddenly stepped back into open space, calling for the ball. As Robert Horry slid over to close out, Zhao Dong exploded, slicing past him like a blade and surging into the lane.
Horry tried to wrap him up—too slow.
Zhao Dong lowered his shoulder, absorbed the contact, and brushed Horry off with a single powerful arm.
"He's strong, but not Shaq-strong," Zhao Dong thought. "One arm's enough."
The lob arrived. One step, plant, quick-stop jumper on the left side of the paint—Kobe in his face.
Swish!
The ball arced clean over Bryant's outstretched hand and sank through the net.
O'Neal, under the basket, hesitated. He'd wanted to come help but couldn't risk Zhao Dong dumping the ball off to a cutter. That split second of doubt gave Zhao Dong his window.
---
TNT Broadcast Booth
"No problem offensively for the Knicks," Charles Barkley commented. "Phil Jackson hasn't found an answer for Zhao Dong. The real question is the other end—can New York slow down Shaq?"
"And if they can't," Kenny Smith chimed in, "we could be looking at a night where two unstoppable forces just explode at both ends."
In the next few possessions, Horry found himself open. The Knicks gambled, sagging off to double Shaq. Horry punished them—two straight makes from beyond the arc.
"Let him shoot, and you'll pay the price," said Smith.
The Knicks adjusted. No more help from Horry's side.
Zhao Dong, left alone with O'Neal, gritted his teeth.
"No help... fine. I'll handle it."
Halftime Report – TNT Studio
Hill broke it down at the desk with Kenny Smith and Charles Barkley.
"O'Neal went 10-of-12 in the first half, scoring 23. He's shooting 83%—that's insane efficiency, even for Shaq."
"And he's not even working that hard," Kenny added. "The Knicks aren't crowding him. If they don't send bodies at him, he's going to dominate all night."
"Zhao Dong's playing out of his mind too," Barkley nodded. "Thirty-three points on 14-of-20 shooting? That's freak-level efficiency. But he's also got two fouls and has to conserve energy on defense. He can't go full-throttle guarding Shaq for forty-eight minutes."
"Right now," Hill concluded, "it's a high-stakes shootout. Something's gotta give in the second half."
---
Inside the Knicks Locker Room – Halftime
Head Coach Don Nelson Sr. huddled with assistants Jeff Van Gundy and Tom Thibodeau.
"We can't leave Shaq uncontested anymore," Van Gundy said, pacing. "He's scoring at will."
Van Gundy, the team's analytics coach, leaned forward.
"Coach, send Marion to double. His speed lets him rotate fast enough to cover the shooters."
Nelson stroked his chin.
"Then we push the pace. Zhao Dong, Stackhouse, Marion, Ginobili—we run them into the ground."
Turning to Zhao Dong, Van Gundy added,
"You've got to stop giving up deep position. Force Shaq out. No more layup line."
Zhao Dong cracked his neck and nodded.
"Tell Shaq he's done sightseeing under the rim."
---
Third Quarter – Staples Center
Lineups:
Knicks – Zhao Dong, Marion, Stackhouse, Ginobili, Rogers
Lakers – O'Neal, Horry, Glen Rice, Kobe Bryant, Ron Harper
"The Knicks going ultra-small," Charles noted. "Zhao Dong now their de facto center—guarding the Diesel straight up."
"And the tallest guy on the floor is Zhao Dong at six-nine!" Smith exclaimed. "This is a gutsy move."
Horry floated back to the left corner. Rogers tracked him. Glen Rice drifted up top, covered by Marion.
Shaq tried to duck in for position. Zhao Dong slid in front of him—chest up, feet set.
"Get outta my way, shorty!" Shaq growled.
He gave Zhao Dong a shove. Zhao Dong stumbled a step, reset, lowered his stance.
Shaq bumped again. Clock ticking.
Three seconds coming.
The entry pass came—Shaq was two meters from the rim.
Zhao Dong was there.
Shaq pivoted into a soft hook.
"Bang!"
Missed.
Zhao Dong snatched the defensive rebound off the glass with authority, swinging his elbows wide and forcing O'Neal to back off.
He didn't wait. A crisp outlet pass fired down the court as his teammates were already in motion.
"Bang!"
Jerry Stackhouse cut through the middle of the lane like a missile. Ginobili zipped a bounce pass between defenders. Stackhouse caught it mid-stride and slammed it down with both hands.
Charles shouted over the TNT broadcast.
"And Stackhouse finishes it off! That's transition basketball, Knicks-style!"
Kenny Smith added, "That all starts with Zhao Dong clearing space and initiating the break. He doesn't waste time admiring the rebound—he gets his team moving."
Zhang Heli commented on CCTV, "O'Neal can't compare to Zhao Dong in terms of offensive versatility. Shaq's efficiency depends on deep post position. Once he's outside the restricted zone, his threat level drops. Delay his entry, waste his clock, and you cut off the Lakers' oxygen supply."
---
Shaquille O'Neal jogged into the frontcourt, steamrolling toward the paint again—but Zhao Dong was already there, feet planted, eyes locked in.
"You'll need more weight, big guy. Fat ain't muscle," Zhao Dong taunted, grinning.
O'Neal huffed and growled.
"I'm gonna crush you, little man."
He lowered his shoulder, trying to bulldoze his way into the paint, but Zhao Dong gave just enough ground to avoid the whistle, then reset and pushed back. Their clash was a battle of tectonic plates—power vs. positioning.
With time running out on the shot clock, O'Neal settled near the dotted circle. He sealed Zhao Dong outside the restricted zone and called for the ball.
Ron Harper shook free from Ginobili and zipped the entry pass in just before the 5-second count.
O'Neal caught it. One dribble. He held Zhao Dong off with his left and brought the ball up with his right hand for a hook shot.
It was a shot he usually converted at a 60% clip.
But not today.
"WHAM!"
Shawn Marion came flying in out of nowhere and swatted the ball clean from behind.
"Spectacular rejection by the Matrix!" Kenny Smith howled.
Kobe Bryant pounced on the loose ball, rose for the putback, but Zhao Dong lunged in to contest. Kobe twisted in the air, adjusted—missed.
O'Neal ripped the rebound from the scrum, took one thunderous step forward, and went up with both hands, winding up for a ferocious dunk.
"He's gonna bring the roof down!" Charles warned.
"Boom!"
Zhao Dong exploded upward, meeting O'Neal at the summit. The two collided mid-air.
Zhao Dong was blown backward by the sheer force, crashing hard to the floor.
Clang!
The ball missed everything. Shaq hit the rim—but the ball didn't follow.
"Blocked again! Zhao Dong and Marion—double deny on the Diesel!" Marv roared.
O'Neal's roar echoed through Staples Center. Embarrassed, furious.
Shawn Marion grabbed the live ball and triggered the break.
---
Zhao Dong scrambled up from the floor and bolted downcourt. Ginobili pushed the tempo, streaking toward the basket with Kobe trailing. He hesitated, shifted left, then whipped the ball to Stackhouse on the wing.
Stackhouse pump-faked, sent his defender flying, then fed it back to Zhao Dong, who arrived like a freight train.
He caught the ball on the move, planted, took off—and saw Kobe under the rim.
"Hell no!" Kobe muttered and veered aside.
"BANG!"
Zhao Dong flushed a one-handed tomahawk slam, shaking the rim but leaving the glass intact.
"He didn't go full force," Charles said. "He knew Shaq needed a breather. That's smart basketball."
"He's not just dominant—he's calculated," Kenny added.
Zhang Heli praised, "The Knicks are fighting for every possession. Their defense is suffocating, and Zhao Dong is unstoppable. The Lakers can't contain him."
Su Qun laughed beside him, "O'Neal missed back-to-back opportunities and now the score is 61–48. Knicks up by 13!"
---
O'Neal started dragging his feet.
He stopped running the floor hard. His chest heaved. His legs felt heavier than concrete.
The next possession, Glen Rice found a rhythm jumper and knocked it down.
Still, the Knicks weren't done.
Zhao Dong began working off-ball on the left wing, shaking Horry with two quick cuts.
Ginobili held the ball, pressured by Harper. The first cut was a bluff—Zhao Dong pulled back out.
He slashed again—this time for real.
The pass came in, perfectly timed.
Zhao Dong caught it on the move, eyes already locked on the rim. Kobe rotated over, but he was late.
"Don't you come soft, now…" Zhao Dong muttered under his breath.
O'Neal turned, planting himself in the paint.
Zhao Dong left the floor like a missile.
Eyes locked.
Bodies colliding in mid-air.
In the back of O'Neal's mind, the last time this happened flashed like lightning—Zhao Dong had sent him stumbling, twice, in a regular season game. The man hit like a cannonball and had hops like Kemp in his prime.
But this was the Finals.
Shaquille O'Neal clenched his teeth.
He wasn't going down this time.
He wasn't giving up the crown.
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