Zhang Heli glanced at the stat sheet and reported, "Zhao Dong has dropped 31 in the first half. He was quiet in the third, scoring only 8, but in the fourth quarter, he's erupted for another 18. That brings him to a total of 57 points."
He paused, then added with concern, "But his shooting percentage has slipped to 58.2%. That's lower than what we saw in the first three playoff rounds—and even lower than Game 1. Defending O'Neal and being swarmed by double-teams is draining him fast."
Su Qun nodded. "In the fourth quarter alone, he's shooting just 53%. That's nearly a 10% drop. A big dip in efficiency at a critical moment."
"Right," Zhang agreed. "Even an iron man would be exhausted by now. I just hope he can push through. O'Neal has five fouls, and Ben Wallace is in the same boat. If Zhao Dong still has gas in the tank, he should drive straight at them. He might just draw a sixth."
Su Qun sighed. "He looks out of energy now. For the past few minutes, he's settled for perimeter jumpers—he hasn't driven in once. He's running on fumes."
Meanwhile, on the TNT broadcast, Barkley's voice boomed: "O'Neal has 41 points. That's 15 just in the fourth quarter alone. He's 6-for-7 from the field, though just 3-for-8 on free throws. But overall—super efficient. That's the main reason the Lakers climbed back."
Kenny Smith added, "If Shaq can hold onto some strength for the final minute, the Lakers could complete the comeback."
On the Lakers bench, O'Neal was gasping, drenched in sweat, not even bothering to towel off. Despite Kobe pulling Zhao Dong's attention away during the fourth, the Knicks still collapsed on Shaq. Willis and Trent took turns pounding him in the paint, and Zhao Dong never let up on the defensive end.
To make it worse, he had to handle Zhao Dong's aggressive drives on defense. It wasn't just exhausting—it was soul-sapping.
On the other bench, Zhao Dong was chugging water while a team doctor massaged his cramping calves. His legs were tightening up, but he didn't complain.
Coach Nelson didn't even ask for a status update.
Finals or not, Zhao Dong was going back in. Limp or not, he'd finish the fight.
The timeout ended.
Knicks ball.
Zhao Dong returned to the court, still running point. Stackhouse slotted into the two-guard, John Wallace stayed at the three, while Willis and Trent held down the interior.
On the Lakers' side, Big Ben was replaced by Robert Horry—Phil Jackson's secret weapon.
Big Ben had been inserted earlier to slow down Zhao Dong's attacks. But now? Zhao Dong looked too gassed to drive. His last few field goal attempts were all jumpers, and his legs were clearly shot.
It was the perfect moment for Phil to swap out Wallace and bring in Horry for more perimeter flexibility.
At the top of the arc, Zhao Dong dribbled patiently, keeping his dribble alive. Kobe, just as exhausted, crouched low and locked in defensively.
"He's too tired to drive," Kobe told himself. "It'll be a jumper."
Eighteen seconds. Nineteen. Twenty.
Suddenly, Zhao Dong took one hard step forward.
"Fake drive. He won't go through with it." Kobe's instincts told him to recover, and he held back.
But just as he froze, Zhao Dong stepped back and then exploded past him, slicing through the left side of the arc.
"Oh no—he had gas left after all!" Kobe's eyes widened. All that jump-shooting before… it was a setup!
"Boss, don't blame me!" Big Ben rushed in from the weak side, trying to hold the line.
Zhao Dong crossed over behind his back, switched the ball to his left hand, and beat Ben off the dribble. He took one stride and rose up with fury, launching toward the rim—Shaq in his sights.
"Bang!"
O'Neal reacted late and grabbed Zhao Dong mid-air. Zhao slammed to the ground hard.
"Beep!"
The whistle blew. The ref pointed directly at O'Neal.
Sixth foul. He was out.
Phil Jackson froze, heart dropping.
Shaq stood in disbelief, sweat dripping. His foul had been instinctive—reaction, not strategy. He'd been conditioned to challenge every shot. But Zhao Dong wasn't like anyone else.
Flat on the floor, Zhao Dong let out two short chuckles between gasps.
That last burst was everything he had. He'd played possum, saved just enough juice for one final explosion—and it worked.
"Boss!" Stackhouse and Wallace rushed over and pulled him up.
O'Neal gave him one final look before walking off the court.
Zhao Dong limped to the line, took a few breaths, and sank the first free throw.
102–106. Knicks by four.
He bounced the ball, locked in again.
Swish.
"Clutch! Zhao Dong still nails it when it counts! 102–107!" Zhang Heli was on his feet. "Forty-five seconds left. Lakers ball!"
Su Qun leaned forward. "With Shaq out, they've lost their inside anchor. Horry is no low-post threat. The Lakers are gonna have to rely on perimeter plays now."
Ron Harper brought it up. Zhao Dong met him high. Horry floated to the corner, dragging Trent with him. In the post, Willis and Big Ben jockeyed for position. On the wings, Kobe and Stackhouse danced. Glen Rice matched up with John Wallace.
All eyes were on Kobe now.
He curled through a series of screens and finally shook Stackhouse. Harper hit him on the wing.
Kobe drove hard, then pulled up at the elbow.
Mid-range jumper.
Splash.
"104–107. Twenty-eight seconds left." Barkley called it. "Still a one-possession game."
Knicks possession.
Zhao Dong brought the ball up slowly, scanning the floor while Kobe retreated on defense.
"He's got 59," Barkley said, hyped. "Just three shy of breaking Kim Bell's 61-point record from Game 1. Let's see if he's got one more bucket left in him."
As he crossed halfcourt, Zhao Dong raised a hand—pull-away signal.
Clear the paint.
"Dribble or shoot?" Kobe's mind raced, but the last time Zhao Dong surprised him, he lost the ability to make a confident read.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Zhao Dong continued dribbling at the top of the arc, calm and patient.
Twenty seconds. Twenty-one...
"He has no time. It's gotta be a shot," Kobe finally decided. He stepped up, not too far, just enough to contest if Zhao Dong pulled up.
And that's when it happened.
Zhao Dong exploded forward, launching into a drive straight at Kobe.
"I've been fooled again!"
Kobe instinctively backed up in panic.
Then—screech!
Zhao Dong stopped on a dime, one step inside the three-point line. Kobe slid back just enough to leave a gap of over a meter.
And in the next breath, Zhao Dong stepped back behind the arc.
Jump shot.
In Kobe's line of sight, the ball rose.
Swish!
"Bang!" Madison Square Garden erupted.
"Beautiful! Zhao Dong just broke the Finals single-game scoring record! He passes Kim Bell's 61 from the 1962 Finals and stands alone with 62!" Barkley shouted from the TNT booth.
"104–110! And just 5.4 seconds left! The Knicks are up by 6! This game is over!" Smith yelled in excitement.
"This record stood for 38 years, and Zhao Dong shattered it tonight!"
On the sideline, Michael Jordan leaned toward Magic Johnson and murmured, "The Tyrant was too composed. Kobe looked young out there."
Magic nodded. "He guessed right—Kobe read the jumper—but still got beat. He hesitated."
Jordan smirked. "Who'd dare ignore Zhao Dong's drive? Even if his legs are shot, you still gotta respect it."
Magic chuckled and nodded again.
The Lakers quickly resorted to intentional fouls, but it was no use. Without O'Neal, the "Hack-a" tactic was off the table. The Knicks closed the game at the line.
Final score: Knicks 113, Lakers 104.
New York took a commanding 2–0 lead in the series as they headed to Los Angeles.
---
Postgame: Locker Room Echoes
"It wasn't easy," Zhang Heli said on the national broadcast. "The Lakers are elite. This series is far from over."
"If they hadn't used the Hack-a-Shaq tactic in the third, maybe the outcome's different," Su Qun commented with a grin.
"True," Zhang replied, chuckling.
Su Qun flipped through the stats. "Zhao Dong shot 23-of-39 tonight—58.9%. He hit 2-of-4 from deep, 14-of-16 from the line. He finished with 62 points, 17 boards, 6 assists, 3 steals, 6 blocks, 2 turnovers, and 5 fouls. That's insane."
"Unreal. Highest Finals scoring game in league history," Zhang Heli laughed in awe.
On TNT, Barkley followed up, "Across Game 1 and Game 2, Zhao Dong is averaging 61.5 points per game. That's not just Finals legend stuff—that's NBA mythology. Two straight 60+ games? That's history."
Smith added, "I wanna see him chase down Jordan's 69-point playoff record, or even Thomas' 25-point quarter in the Finals."
Barkley raised an eyebrow. "That won't be easy against the Lakers. He's doing this while guarding O'Neal and being blitzed every possession. His energy usage is off the charts."
Smith scrolled through the defensive stats. "The Lakers double-teamed Zhao Dong 26 times, triple-teamed 8 times, four-man blitzed him 5 times, and even had 9 five-man collapses. That's 48 total traps."
"40 of those were with the ball," he continued. "And Zhao took 32 shots out of them, only passed 8 times."
Barkley nodded. "That kind of pressure? It's Jordan-Pistons level. Only thing missing is the elbows."
Smith added, "Now the Lakers are down 0–2. They've got three straight at home, but the Knicks only need to steal one to regain home-court control."
---
In the Knicks Locker Room
Zhao Dong briefly gave a post-game interview, but his body begged for rest. He quickly retreated to the locker room.
Inside, Gary Trent and Willis were sprawled on massage chairs, getting treated.
"Kevin, Gary—how you guys holding up?" Zhao Dong asked, voice hoarse.
"My bones feel like they got chewed up by a shark," Willis groaned.
Trent just waved his hand—too tired to speak.
Old Nelson walked up, arms crossed. "We've got to limit their minutes in Game 3. That's final."
"I'll go, Coach!" Fordson shouted. The young forward stood, suited up in the Knicks' signature black gentleman's suit, practically bouncing with energy.
Nelson sighed and nodded. "Alright, you're in."
"Let's go!" Fordson pumped his fist. His knees weren't what they used to be, but Zhao Dong's fire reignited something in him.
---
In the Lakers Locker Room
Barkley wasn't exaggerating. The pressure wasn't "quite" big—it was monumental.
Back in the visitor's locker room, silence smothered the air. Even O'Neal, usually joking around postgame, sat still and soaked in sweat.
Phil Jackson stood before them. "You all fought hard tonight. I saw the unity. The effort. I respect that."
"But we still lost," Shaq muttered, not raising his head.
Phil nodded. "That's the game. You win or lose. But now we're going home. We have three straight in L.A. We must take all three. It's not over."
Once the locker room loosened up a bit, Phil got serious.
"Our extreme defense against Zhao Dong—it cost us. We need to evaluate if that's sustainable. We couldn't keep enough energy for offense, especially Shaq."
He looked around.
"O'Neal was part of every double. He lost juice under the rim. Everyone did. That's why we couldn't keep up with Zhao's final push."
He paused. "Back in the day, the Pistons played dirty to stop Jordan. We're not doing that. But we still don't have the legs to keep it up for four quarters."
Finally, he turned back to Shaq.
"The biggest problem wasn't just stamina—it was the hacking tactic."
Shaq winced.
---
Postgame Press Conference
One hour later, both teams spoke to the media.
At the Knicks' podium, a L.A. Sports Daily reporter snapped: "Coach Nelson, are you making the Hack-a-Shaq a regular thing now?"
Old Nelson gave a smug smile. "If necessary… absolutely."
"You—!"
The reporter almost popped a vein.
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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