"NO, Zhao Dong, don't fight!" Coach Van Gundy yelled, anxious to prevent any trouble.
Garnett, looking fierce, caught Zhao Dong's expression and quickly turned, sprinting toward the tunnel, not daring to stay on the court.
"Don't run!" Zhao Dong shouted, chasing after him.
"NO, Zhao Dong, don't hit him, just treat him like a fart," Van Gundy pleaded, rushing up and hugging Zhao Dong from behind, refusing to let go.
"Haha..." Zhao Dong found the coach's words amusing and burst into laughter.
"Look, that wimp got away!"
"What's his name, the big guy from the Timberwolves? How dare he elbow Zhao Dong? Zhao Dong's a tough guy who dared to dunk over Shaq!"
Seeing Garnett run away, Knicks fans found it hilarious and started laughing.
"Shit!" Larry Johnson, who had taken off his warm-up jacket on the bench, ready to fight, cursed in disappointment when he saw the scuffle didn't escalate.
Zhao Dong glanced at Larry Johnson and said with a smile, "Larry, next time we get into it, just enjoy the show. We can't all get ejected together."
Larry Johnson was stunned, then shook his head and laughed.
"Still thinking about fighting? Get back on the court," Van Gundy said angrily, giving Zhao Dong a light kick.
The referee made the call. Since Zhao Dong had been elbowed and it was a flagrant foul, he wasn't called for a foul this time.
Garnett was still hiding at the entrance of the tunnel, peeking onto the court. When the referee waved him over, he walked out with his head held high, trying to look tough.
"Boo!" Madison Square Garden wasn't polite, booing loudly.
The referee then assessed Garnett with a flagrant foul, awarding Zhao Dong free throws.
After Zhao Dong sank both free throws, the Knicks inbounded the ball to resume play.
"You bastard, you dare elbow my head? I'll make you pay," Zhao Dong muttered to Garnett, who was defending him.
"Who told you to throw me? You almost crippled me," Garnett retorted, his bravado waning.
"If you dare to dunk on me next time, you won't have a chance to stand up again," Zhao Dong said coldly.
Those words were harsh. Garnett's eyes narrowed, and his courage faltered.
At that moment, none of the other Knicks wanted the ball, so Zhao Dong took charge. Charlie Ward passed it to him.
After receiving the ball, Zhao Dong pivoted, dribbled with his left hand, and shoved his right elbow backward, hitting Garnett between the chest and abdomen.
"Asshole!" Garnett groaned from the elbow, his body stiffening.
"Bang!" Zhao Dong seized the opportunity, broke into the paint, and delivered a tomahawk slam dunk, rocking the Timberwolves' basket amid the crowd's cheers.
"Number 21, I'm going to dominate you on both ends today!" Zhao Dong declared boldly to Garnett after scoring.
At that moment, he felt his strength matched Garnett's. The opponent's morale had been severely hit, and his performance had dropped sharply. Zhao Dong had already gained the upper hand and intended to capitalize on it.
"Bring it on," Garnett replied angrily.
"Bang!" On the return play, Garnett tried to drive past Zhao Dong, but before he could enter the paint, Ewing came over to help and swatted the ball away.
"Patrick, I ain't lost my position yet!"
Zhao Dong was jumping up and down, frustrated. "I'm still three blocks away from a steal, and you over here messing up my stat line. What the hell you doing?"
Ewing shot him a glare. "Zhao Dong, dude's slipping away. You gotta fall back and stay tight on him. Don't let him get off a jumper."
"I got it."
Zhao Dong knew he was half a step slow just now and quickly nodded.
The Timberwolves came back down, and Tom Gugliotta pulled up for a jumper—cash.
After a couple of possessions, at the six-minute mark in the first quarter, the Knicks were up 14-10.
On the left wing, Zhao Dong caught the rock, faked left, faked right, then dropped to the baseline.
Garnett knew the drive was coming—Zhao Dong had been attacking the rim all night—so he stepped back, bracing for impact.
But this time, Zhao Dong stopped just outside the paint, shifted his weight, and rose up for a short-range two.
Garnett, a step behind, had no chance to contest. He could only jump in place, waving his arms, but Zhao Dong's release point was already level with the rim. Way too late.
"Swish!"
The net barely moved as the ball splashed through.
With no hand in his face, a clean mid-range shot like that? With his mental game and 88-rated shooting skills, Zhao Dong was making that eight or nine times out of ten.
"Pa-pa-pa!" The Garden erupted in applause.
Van Gundy clapped from the sidelines, nodding in approval. That was smart basketball.
He knew Zhao Dong didn't need to force everything at the rim—it was more exhausting, plus the defense tightened up in the paint. As a key player, he had to manage his stamina. Otherwise, by the fourth quarter, he'd be gassed when they needed him most. Developing that mid-range was a must.
On the other end, Garnett, clearly heated, demanded the ball. He backed down, spun, and let off a turnaround jumper.
This wasn't a step-back—he wasn't polished on that yet—so he went with his bread-and-butter spin move.
Zhao Dong jumped alongside him, contesting hard, and the shot barely got off before—
"Smack!"
Blocked.
The rock hit the floor, and the two scrambled for it. After a quick tussle, Zhao Dong came out with possession and instantly pushed the break.
"Ohh! Zhao Dong with the block! He's off to the races… not looking to pass… Garnett's chasing him down!" The commentator's voice boomed across the arena.
Marbury, faster than Charlie Ward, got back into the paint. Seeing Zhao Dong barreling down like a runaway freight train, he wanted no part of that. He bailed out, sprinting past the baseline.
Zhao Dong blew into the lane, took one massive step inside, then launched—gliding forward at high speed. One arm cocked back, ready to detonate.
"Bang!"
The rim rattled as the crowd exploded.
"YEAH! A tomahawk jam! That's power, that's force, that's straight-up violence from Zhao Dong!" The commentator was going wild.
Garnett, out of breath, stopped under the hoop, hands on his knees. Zhao Dong strolled past him, smirking.
"Softie, I'm putting you in a body bag tonight!"
Garnett's face turned red. He clenched his fists so hard, his nails dug into his palms. But he didn't dare swing.
By the end of the first quarter, the Knicks had blown the game open—28-18, up by ten.
That was just a preview of what was coming.
When the final buzzer sounded, it was a straight-up beatdown—102-74. The Knicks clowned the Timberwolves by 28.
Garnett got locked up all night. Under Zhao Dong's suffocating defense, he struggled hard—4-for-17 from the field, 3-for-4 at the stripe, just 11 points, 4 boards, 2 dimes, 1 steal, 1 block, 2 turnovers, and 4 fouls. That was a rough stat line.
On offense, he was bricking left and right, getting swatted four times by Zhao Dong and once by Ewing. On defense, he got worked—Zhao Dong even took him off the dribble.
Zhao Dong logged 35 minutes—his longest run so far—and left everything on the floor. By the end, he was cooked, sitting on the hardwood, too tired to even move a finger.
He finished with 25 points, 11 boards, 1 assist, 1 steal, 5 blocks, 2 turnovers, and 5 fouls. Efficiency wasn't as clean as his last couple of games, but he worked in more jumpers, sticking to the game plan.
Defensively, with Ewing anchoring the paint, Zhao Dong had Garnett in a straitjacket all night. That earned him the reward.
Marbury, though? Different story. He kept his drives in check, barely giving Zhao Dong a chance to rack up steals or blocks. That mission would have to wait.
Player of the Game? Patrick Ewing—26 points, 15 boards, and 4 swats.
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