WebNovels

Chapter 390 - Chapter 390

With the Finals wrapped up, the 2000 NBA season officially ended, ushering in the offseason. Team management across the league immediately went into overdrive, preparing for trades, drafts, and free agency.

The very next day, June 5th at 3 p.m., the Knicks landed in New York. The reception was insane—tens of thousands of fans lined the streets, cheering as a parade of buses escorted the team from the airport all the way downtown. The sheer number of people caused massive traffic jams across several districts.

A grand championship celebration was already set for June 6th, planned to last three full days. After all, four straight championships was historic—second only to the Celtics' legendary eight-peat.

---

That night, TNT aired its much-hyped special: "The Best God-Slaying Lineup."

The concept was simple but electrifying—how do you build a team capable of defeating Zhao Dong, the man now being hailed as the God of Efficiency?

The show featured some of the greatest names in basketball: Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, Tim Duncan, and Shaquille O'Neal, who had just been swept by Zhao Dong days earlier.

TNT had pushed the special heavily all day, and the response was massive. By the time the show went live, ratings skyrocketed past 20 million viewers, surpassing even previous Finals broadcasts.

Naturally, the host was Charles Barkley.

---

Opening Segment

Barkley grinned at the camera, then immediately turned to O'Neal.

"Shaq, you just got swept by the God of Efficiency. Be honest—what's the first thing you wanna say right now?"

O'Neal stayed silent for a moment, his face serious—gone was the usual big smile.

"…He's not unbeatable," Shaq finally said. "We still have a chance."

The answer was short, but his tone carried determination.

Barkley leaned in, his tone turning serious.

"So what do you need to beat him? How do you stop Zhao Dong?"

Shaq didn't answer right away, staring down at the desk as if deep in thought.

Barkley chuckled.

"Guess you're still figuring that out, huh? Fine, let's ask someone else."

---

Jordan's Take

Barkley turned to Jordan with a mischievous grin.

"Mike, Shaq's only been eliminated by Zhao Dong once. You? You've been taken out three times. You've gotta feel the sting more than anyone. So tell us—what's the best god-slaying lineup to beat him?"

Jordan's face darkened instantly.

"…Chuck, do you want me to punch you live on TV?"

Barkley ignored him completely, smiling wider.

"C'mon, Mike, give the fans what they want."

Jordan exhaled slowly, shaking his head before answering.

"Center's obvious—it has to be Shaq. Nobody else has his efficiency in the paint. He's the only one who can at least match Zhao Dong's production down low."

Barkley and the other panelists nodded in agreement.

Jordan continued, his tone turning analytical.

"Power forward's the real problem. You can't just throw a defensive body out there. The Lakers learned that the hard way. Ben Wallace couldn't space the floor, and because of that, the Knicks could double-team Shaq every possession."

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar nodded firmly.

"Exactly. Ben's a great defensive anchor, but his lack of shooting made it easy for the Knicks to trap Shaq. You need a power forward who can pull the defense out of the paint."

Magic Johnson chimed in as well.

"I watched all four Finals games live. Ben Wallace was great in the regular season, but against the Knicks? His presence clogged the lane and actually helped them double Shaq."

Barkley raised a hand.

"Looks like everyone agrees. Mike, go on."

Jordan gave a small shrug.

"Look, it's not Ben's fault. He's a natural center, not a power forward. But if you're gonna beat Zhao Dong, you need a two-way four—a guy who can stretch the floor, defend, run fast breaks, and get back on defense quick."

Barkley turned to Duncan, smirking.

"Timmy, you're the power forward expert here. You putting yourself in this lineup?"

Duncan gave a rare smile and shook his head.

"No, not anymore. My speed isn't what it used to be. Zhao Dong's athleticism is ridiculous—he's a cheat code for a guy his size. If you wanna slow him down, you need someone lighter than him, someone who can move faster laterally."

The other legends nodded in agreement.

"So," Barkley pushed, "who do you think fits the bill?"

Duncan thought for a moment before answering.

"Well, I can't say who's perfect, but a few guys could work."

He raised a hand, counting off names.

"Rasheed Wallace—good balance of offense, defense, and mobility.

The Sonics' rookie Ron Artest—strong defender, decent shooter, not as quick as Zhao Dong, but solid.

The Jazz rookie Andrei Kirilenko—light, versatile, plays small forward now, but he could slide to power forward."

He paused, then added with a slight smile:

"But honestly? The best fits are Karl Malone and Kevin Garnett. And if I had to pick one, young Garnett is perfect. His length, speed, and defensive instincts would give Zhao Dong the most trouble."

The forwards Duncan nominated were quickly acknowledged by everyone, even the two rookies. Nobody objected—at least, not seriously.

Jordan smirked and waved dismissively.

"Let's not talk about those two rookies. They're way too green to deal with Zhao Dong."

He leaned back, smiling faintly.

"Between Karl Malone and Garnett? I'm going with Garnett. The Mailman's had plenty of chances against Zhao Dong and failed every single time. No need to keep debating him."

"Ha!" Barkley let out a loud laugh.

Everyone in the room knew Jordan had beef with Karl Malone. Years ago, the Mailman had elbowed him hard enough to send him tumbling across the floor—something Zhao Dong himself had once joked about in interviews.

Meanwhile, in Salt Lake City, Karl Malone was lying on his sofa after a brutal wrestling workout. Exhausted, he had been watching the TNT broadcast—until Jordan's jab made him sit up, fuming.

"...This bastard!" Malone growled, throwing a towel at the TV.

Back in the studio, Jordan continued, his tone turning serious.

"Garnett's perfect for this. His defensive range covers the three-point line, and offensively, his turnaround step-back jumper is lethal. It's almost comparable to Yao Ming's turnaround fadeaway with the Nets."

Barkley nodded, but then shifted the discussion.

"Speaking of Yao, let's get back to the center spot. Do you guys think Yao can challenge Shaq for that position?"

The question stunned the panel for a moment. But when they considered Yao's performance this season—especially his two head-to-head battles with O'Neal—they slowly nodded.

O'Neal sighed, his big frame slumping slightly in his chair.

"To be honest, that rookie surprised me. The first time he hit a turnaround fadeaway over me, I froze. You ever seen a seven-foot-five guy do that? It's insane."

The panel burst out laughing.

Barkley grinned.

"Dream, you trained Yao. You should talk about this."

Hakeem Olajuwon—"Dream" himself—shook his head, smiling proudly.

"He was developed by Coach K at Duke. Zhao Dong's the one who set his career path. I just taught him some post moves and Dream Shake techniques.

But Charles is right—if Yao plays to his potential, he can dominate any center in the league. Of course, Shaq can still overpower him, and they can trade blows evenly.

But yeah… Yao's definitely qualified for the God-slaying lineup. He can absolutely compete with Shaq for that spot."

Shaq raised an eyebrow, not amused.

"Alright, Mike," Barkley said, rubbing his hands together, "we've got the center and power forward debated. Now give us the rest of your God-slaying lineup."

Jordan didn't hesitate.

"Small forward first. You need a guy who's elite on both ends. Zhao Dong plays all five positions, so every position in this lineup needs to be two-way.

But here's the thing—"

He paused, then shook his head.

"There isn't one."

The room fell silent.

Barkley blinked.

"Not a single small forward? You're saying there's no one in the league who can match him?"

Jordan shook his head firmly.

"No. Zhao Dong's spent entire regular seasons at small forward, and nobody's even come close to stopping him.

The two rookies Tim mentioned earlier—Artest and Kirilenko—have potential, but they're still too raw. Zhao Dong would eat them alive.

The only guy who might come close is Tracy McGrady. Offense, defense, athleticism—he checks all the boxes. But the Bulls got swept by the Knicks in the Eastern Finals. He's not ready for this level."

"Then we'll table that for now," Barkley said. "What about the guards?"

Jordan nodded.

"The outside game was minimized in this year's Finals because Zhao Dong's efficiency forced teams to pound the paint. That's why guys like Kobe and Glen Rice weren't as dominant—they didn't get the touches.

But if you're building a God-slaying lineup, you still need two-way guards. My picks? Kobe Bryant at shooting guard and Gary Payton at point guard."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Kobe, only four seasons in, had already become a complete offensive and defensive threat with a burning desire to win. Payton, averaging 24.2 points, 6.5 rebounds, 8.9 assists, and nearly two steals this season, had earned All-NBA First Team honors.

It was a backcourt that made perfect sense.

Barkley grinned.

"Okay, folks, who else wants to throw in their dream God-slaying lineup?"

Olajuwon smiled, glancing at O'Neal.

"For the center, I'd actually take Yao Ming over Shaq. His skill set fits better."

Shaq snapped his head toward him.

"Come on, Dream! You sound just like Jordan—you're all Zhao Dong fanboys. That's not fair!"

Dream turned toward Jordan, his expression calm but firm.

"That's two different things, Michael. Listen to my reasoning first."

"Go on," O'Neal muttered, arms crossed.

Dream smiled, unfazed by Shaq's tone.

"Why did the Lakers lose the Finals? Was it efficiency? No. Shaq, your efficiency in the paint even surpassed Zhao Dong at times."

O'Neal straightened, quickly agreeing.

"Exactly! That's why I keep saying—we still have a chance against him."

The others nodded in agreement.

Dream continued, his voice steady.

"Then why did the Lakers lose? Physical fitness. Shaq, your style eats up energy like crazy. By the fourth quarter, you weren't as efficient as you were in the first three. Zhao Dong, on the other hand… his strength is his consistency.

He's terrifying because even in the last seconds, when everyone else is gassed, he's still running at full power. Your efficiency drops as you fatigue, but his never does."

Kareem raised a hand, curious.

"Hakeem, you're saying Yao Ming's style can solve that problem? That he can keep his efficiency longer?"

Magic Johnson frowned, shaking his head slightly.

"Hold on. Yao's not Shaq. He doesn't have that same physical dominance in the paint. He's, what, 125 kilos? He can't just bully his way under the rim like Shaq.

And if he can't do what Shaq did in the paint, what's the point of him lasting longer? His overall efficiency won't match Shaq's Finals level."

The room went quiet, all eyes turning back to Dream.

Dream chuckled softly, clearly prepared for this question.

"True, Yao can't overpower people like Shaq. But he has something Shaq doesn't—a soft shooting touch. He can stretch the floor all the way to the three-point line.

Now imagine pairing Yao with a power forward like Garnett or Duncan. What do you think happens then?"

Jordan's eyes widened as he immediately understood.

"You pull the Knicks' bigs out of the paint, opening lanes for the guards to cut inside. That would keep offensive efficiency high."

Dream nodded, a spark of excitement in his tone.

"Exactly. The Lakers tried to fight Zhao Dong straight-up in the paint this year, and look what happened—no spacing, no penetration lanes, and the perimeter became useless.

But if you spread them out, you activate your guards and wings, reduce the interior's workload, and keep the big man fresher. That's the key—not trying to outmuscle Zhao Dong, but making him defend more space and forcing his team to adjust."

In Los Angeles, Phil Jackson sat alone in his living room, watching the broadcast. He closed his eyes and leaned back, quietly processing Dream's words.

He's right, Phil thought. Our tactics were too rigid. We need to rethink everything next season.

Across town, Lakers GM Jerry West had the same realization. His mind was already racing through possible roster adjustments.

Meanwhile, Zhao Dong himself was watching the program from his hotel room. He nodded thoughtfully at Hakeem's analysis.

Hakeem was right. Whether it was Shaq's brute force or Yao Ming's finesse, both had undeniable mismatches against him.

Shaq had overwhelming physicality; Yao had height and technical skill. Zhao Dong couldn't stop them outright.

The only way he could win against those advantages was by staying more efficient for longer—and by using his defense to drain their energy over time.

For that reason, he fully agreed with Hakeem conclusion—Yao Ming deserved a spot in the God-Slaying lineup.

Barkley's show hit a peak rating of 45 million viewers, an unprecedented number.

The effect was immediate: players mentioned in the God-Slaying lineup became the hottest commodities in the league. Every team dreaming of a championship took notice—especially of young talents like Artest, Kirilenko, and, of course, Yao Ming.

Backstage after the show, Tim Duncan had barely stepped into the hallway when his agent, Charles Banks, called him, fuming.

"Tim! How could you deny yourself like that on national TV? You're the best power forward candidate for that lineup! Do you realize what this exposure could've done for your next contract?"

Duncan, who had already decided to opt out of the last year of his Spurs contract to test free agency, sounded completely unconcerned.

"I'm just being honest, Charles. This was just a TV show. Nobody's actually putting together a lineup like that."

Banks nearly exploded.

"Tim, you've got a genius basketball mind, but zero business sense! Do you even know how much this show boosted everyone's stock?"

But Duncan didn't care.

On July 6, the Knicks kicked off their three-day championship celebration in New York. The city roared in honor of their fourth consecutive title.

On the morning of July 9, with the celebrations finally over, Zhao Dong boarded a private jet—destination: Beijing.

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