Halftime ended with the score tied again, 53–53. Both teams were playing with remarkable offensive efficiency.
Zhang Heli sighed from the booth. "The Lakers have three main scoring options—the OK combo and Glen Rice. Meanwhile, the Knicks are leaning almost entirely on Zhao Dong and Stackhouse. That's a one-man shortfall."
"Ginobili and Marion are struggling," Su Qun added. "Ginobili played 13 minutes off the bench and went just 1-for-5. Marion? 0-for-4 in 10 minutes."
Zhang nodded. "Right now, the Knicks' offense is completely dependent on Zhao Dong, with Stackhouse in a secondary role. That makes it easier for the Lakers to go all-in on their double-teams."
"In the second quarter," Su continued, "Zhao Dong ramped up his drives when O'Neal sat. But the Lakers countered with physical, borderline dirty fouls. Still, Zhao Dong finished 6-of-11 from the field and 5-of-6 from the line. Seventeen points in the second quarter alone—31 in the first half."
"But he's paying for it," Zhang pointed out. "Zhao Dong played the entire half, defending O'Neal and being swarmed every possession. O'Neal rested eight minutes across two quarters—just 16 total. The energy consumption gap is widening fast."
---
In the locker room, Coach Nelson addressed the team.
"Zhao Dong, take it down a notch in the third. Save your strength for the fourth."
Zhao Dong nodded slightly. He was exhausted. The intensity of this first half surpassed anything he'd felt in the regular season—far worse than Game 1.
Still, he hesitated.
Without him attacking, the Knicks could fall behind quickly.
Coach Nelson saw it and grinned. "We're pulling something new. We're going to use the Hack-a-Shaq."
"What?!" Zhao Dong blinked.
That tactic hadn't officially debuted yet. In the original timeline, Coach Nelson would be the one to introduce it years later. Now? It was about to debut early—on O'Neal.
If it worked, the Knicks could drag the Lakers into the mud for the third quarter, then use their fresher legs to close in the fourth.
Zhao Dong could already imagine it. Shaq, standing at the line, helpless. The frustration, the fury…
---
Sure enough, when the third quarter started, Nelson sent in end-of-bench players—fresh bodies with a single task: send O'Neal to the line. Foul. Repeat.
Shaq collapsed.
So did the Lakers.
Phil Jackson stood frozen on the sideline. He never expected the Knicks to go full Hack-a-Shaq for an entire quarter.
Barkley nearly spit out his water on TNT.
"Shaq, grab a urinal or something. You might need it between these free throws!" he roared.
Smith doubled over laughing. "A chamber pot might work better!"
In the CCTV booth, Zhang Heli was howling. "This… this is shameless!"
Su Qun grinned. "It's like when Chamberlain got fouled so badly he didn't want to play anymore."
At the free throw line again, O'Neal turned red with frustration. He glared at Zhao Dong.
"You're shameless!" he yelled.
Zhao Dong raised his hands innocently. "Me? I'm not even fouling you!"
O'Neal's glare could kill. "Come foul me yourself, coward!"
—
In just half a quarter, Shaq went to the line eight times. He hit only three—his career playoff average hovering just over 30%.
Finally, Jackson pulled him.
As O'Neal walked past Nelson, he stopped.
"Coach Nelson… doesn't your conscience hurt?"
Nelson, hands in pockets, smiled like a man at peace. "Not at all. It's within the rules."
O'Neal just groaned and trudged back to the bench, defeated.
By the end of the third, the Knicks led 80–74. No strong offensive burst from Zhao Dong—but the Hack-a-Shaq worked like a charm.
—
Zhao Dong sat on the bench, catching his breath and apologizing in his mind.
Sorry, Shaq. I hate this too. It ruins the rhythm of a great game.
But he was a professional. The Knicks made the call. He followed orders.
Plus… he needed that rest.
—
After a two-minute break, the fourth quarter began.
Despite their struggles, Ginobili and Marion were back on the floor. The Knicks had no other options at the guard and small forward spots.
Stackhouse, who had played just two minutes fewer than Zhao Dong, remained on the bench a bit longer.
Zhang Heli commented, "Ginobili came from Europe, but the NBA grind is different. The Knicks are a dynasty team with high expectations. He came straight into a playoff race as a starter. His stamina's gone."
"Marion's had it worse," Su Qun added. "He's a true rookie. No pro experience at all before this."
—
BANG!
O'Neal opened the fourth with a furious two-handed slam, blowing through Zhao Dong and Gary Trent.
BEEP!
Foul on Trent. And-1.
"OOOH!" O'Neal roared, standing tall over the fallen defenders.
Zhao Dong shook his head as he picked himself up. He had won the third quarter—but gave Shaq a break in the process.
Now, with rest, Shaq was back. And this final quarter? It would be war.
But at least Zhao Dong's energy had partially recovered.
"Come and foul me again if you dare!"
O'Neal actually made the free throw and couldn't contain his excitement. He glared at Zhao Dong, eyes wide, and roared like a man possessed.
"You big goof, you really think that's enough to stop us?" Zhao Dong shot back with a smirk.
O'Neal froze for a second—if regret had a face, it was his.
On the Knicks' next offensive possession, Zhao Dong gave up ball-handling duties and settled in the low post. Ginobili brought the ball up, his job clear—drive and dish. Shooting was secondary, unless an opening begged for it.
But Ginobili's legs felt like they were dipped in lead. As he shuffled along the perimeter, Ron Harper seized the moment and applied pressure. Ginobili hesitated for just a beat—and that was all Harper needed to swipe the ball clean.
"Oh no!" Zhang Heli slapped his thigh in frustration from the commentary booth.
Zhao Dong hustled back from the low block, chasing hard. Harper went in for a crafty fake under the rim, shook off Ginobili, and rose for a layup—only for Zhao Dong to come flying in, swatting the ball off the glass.
"Zhao Dong with a monster chase-down block! That's championship defense!" the commentator roared.
Zhao Dong didn't even look Ginobili's way this time. Instead, he advanced the ball himself, shooting a glance toward Coach Nelson on the sideline. He gave a quick nod toward Ginobili. Nelson nodded back—it was time for a change.
Zhao Dong took it to the frontcourt, shifting to the left wing. He managed the clock, watching it tick down. With seven seconds left, he launched his move.
One hesitation step—and he was past Kobe in a blur.
Both players had logged heavy minutes, but Zhao Dong still had more juice left in the tank. His duties on both ends were immense, including defending O'Neal, but he pushed through.
Big Ben waited in the paint, a brick wall ready to absorb impact. The plan? Slow Zhao Dong just long enough for Kobe to recover and trap from behind.
"Skreeeech!"
Zhao Dong hit the brakes, pivoted sharply, and threaded a sideways slash between Big Ben and Kobe, who was charging in. He slipped through like water, twisted into the paint, and after two long strides, launched himself at the rim.
O'Neal was there, but he already had three fouls. Zhao Dong knew it—and he wasn't stopping.
"Bang!"
Chaos erupted under the basket. O'Neal yanked Zhao Dong midair, but Zhao Dong's momentum bulldozed both of them to the floor. The whistle shrieked.
"I swear, I'm gonna break you!" O'Neal grunted beneath Zhao Dong, who had landed on top of him.
"You can't guard me, so you hack me? That's weak, big guy," Zhao Dong snapped.
"You..."
O'Neal choked on his fury. The reasonable collision zone rule was his worst nightmare.
"That's four fouls on the Diesel," Su Qun said. "Zhao Dong's gonna attack him relentlessly now."
"But he's gotta be careful," Zhang Heli added. "The Olympics are around the corner. Yao Ming, Da Ba, and Hu Weidong are already in camp. Only Zhao Dong hasn't reported yet."
He nodded to himself. "The restricted area rule changed the game—no doubt. The biggest winner? Zhao Dong. His raw power makes him unstoppable once he gains a step."
"I just hope he doesn't get hurt," Su Qun muttered.
"Yeah. When these two collide, it's like two trucks smashing head-on," Zhang Heli agreed.
Coach Nelson made the change. Ginobili, now cramping, was subbed out for John Wallace. The Lakers countered, swapping out Horry for Ben Wallace to bolster their interior D.
Zhao Dong stepped up to the line and coolly knocked down both free throws.
77–82. Knicks up by five.
When the Lakers launched their offense, Zhao Dong immediately locked onto his target. With every ounce of defensive effort, he fought to keep O'Neal out of the paint. Working in tandem with Gary Trent, they managed to temporarily push the Diesel out of his comfort zone.
Just as the Lakers adjusted, Kobe slashed in from the right wing. He caught the ball mid-cut and soared for a layup—but Zhao Dong recovered just in time and swatted the shot from behind.
Trent secured the rebound and kicked off the Knicks' transition. Zhao Dong sprinted up the court, taking the ball himself and signaling with a quick hand gesture. All five Knicks spread out to the perimeter, spacing the floor like clockwork.
He passed the ball to Stackhouse at the top of the arc, then made his way into the low post. On the weak side, Big Ben was dragged out to the right wing by Trent, leaving O'Neal isolated to defend Zhao Dong alone.
Catching the ball just outside the left block, Zhao Dong hesitated for a beat. He faked up, then down, rhythm shifting like a jazz solo. O'Neal couldn't keep up—Zhao slipped by him on the left. But Big Ben rotated back just in time, anchoring the rim like a final boss.
No matter.
Zhao Dong changed direction in a flash, sliced through to the opposite side of the rim, elevated mid-stride, twisted his body—and delivered a thunderous reverse slam.
"Bang!"
The ball crashed through the hoop and ricocheted off Big Ben's head before bouncing skyward. The whistle blew a half-second later. The ref pointed straight at Ben Wallace—blocking foul. He hadn't established legal guarding position inside the restricted area.
The Garden erupted.
Zhao Dong turned to Big Ben and flashed a playful grin. "Ben, you're too slow."
Rubbing his head with a wry smile, Big Ben muttered, "I got back... just didn't matter."
"And-one for Zhao Dong! With the free throw, the score moves to 85–77!" Zhang Heli's voice rang out from the commentary booth. "The Lakers are down by eight. The Knicks are heating up!"
The Lakers responded by going straight back to their bread and butter—feeding O'Neal in the post. Though he'd been quiet for most of the third quarter, he was still a mountain in the fourth. Zhao Dong and Trent continued to double him aggressively, forcing the Lakers to find other options.
This time, the ball swung to Kobe at the left wing beyond the arc. He zipped a pass inside to a wide-open Big Ben.
As Wallace gathered for the slam, Zhao Dong flew in from the weak side like a missile.
"Bang!"
He met Wallace mid-air and smothered the dunk attempt, sending the ball straight back through the cylinder from the opposite side. The crowd went ballistic.
"An unbelievable block by Zhao Dong! That's a full-court defensive highlight!" the arena announcer roared, barely keeping pace with the chaos.
The ball bounced loose, and Zhao Dong was the first to pounce. He snatched it, scanned the court, and launched a full-court pass.
Stackhouse and John Wallace were already in motion, sprinting toward the rim. Stackhouse caught the pass but Kobe was hot on his heels. As Stackhouse slowed, he glanced back—Zhao Dong was trailing the play.
Without hesitation, Stackhouse dished it left.
"Bang!"
Zhao Dong caught the lob in stride and threw down another dunk, bringing the Knicks' lead back to double digits.
Timeout Lakers.
"The break is Zhao Dong's hunting ground," Barkley shouted. "Who's going to keep up with that speed? No big man in the league can match it, and he's leaving wings in the dust too!"
"87–77! The Lakers are back down ten!" Smith added. "This isn't looking good."
Barkley nodded. "The Knicks have stopped fouling O'Neal intentionally and are gambling their stamina instead. They're throwing everything at him on defense and trusting Zhao Dong to carry the offense. He got a breather in the third, and now he's blowing up both ends of the court."
The timeout gave the Lakers a moment to adjust. Phil Jackson tapped into his triangle genius. The new plan? Let Kobe initiate more from the top, draw Zhao Dong's help defense, and open the floor for O'Neal underneath.
It worked.
Kobe slithered into the paint, and Zhao Dong instinctively rotated to help. In that instant, Shaq sealed his man and took the entry pass for a two-handed jam.
"Stackhouse can't stay in front of Kobe, not with his legs gone," Barkley said. "He's played over 44 minutes a night in these playoffs. That's a grind even for a young star."
Smith nodded. "And that makes life hell for Zhao Dong. When Kobe gets past the first line, he's pulling the Knicks' defensive anchor out of position."
As the game wore on, Kobe kept attacking. The third quarter silence was gone—he was now a storm.
Each time he broke through, the defense collapsed. Each time it did, O'Neal had a free runway to the rim. One thunderous dunk followed another, and the Knicks' lead began to shrink.
On offense, Zhao Dong took over the Knicks' entire scoring load. He operated like a machine—backing down, pulling up, cutting, crashing, always pushing.
He only passed when necessary, usually during brief pauses to conserve energy.
With a minute and seven seconds left, the scoreboard read:
Knicks 105, Lakers 102.
New York called timeout.
They had the ball. They had the lead. And they had their superstar.
Zhao Dong stood by the bench, towel over his shoulders, sweat pouring—but eyes sharp.
This was his moment.
If you notice the new Fanfic are gone i'll give the new link
This is the new link for my new Fanfic because i repost it
Killing People is Kinda Scientific Right?
https://www.webnovel.com/book/killing-people-is-kinda-scientific-right_33392445700696205
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