Zhao Dong leaned casually against the podium, smiling at the barrage of questions.
"In the new season," he said confidently, "I'll be spending more time in the low post."
A reporter immediately shot back, "But you can't stop those inside duos by yourself. You don't have the height."
Other reporters nodded in agreement.
They had a point—Zhao's low-post technique and rebounding were world-class, but if he planted himself down low, he'd lose his greatest weapon: his explosive first step. Without that impact, he wouldn't be nearly as lethal. And if the Blazers pulled him outside to run, they'd lose rebounding, which was a massive risk against the Lakers' twin towers and the Nets' Duncan-Yao duo.
No matter how great Zhao Dong was, he couldn't single-handedly outmuscle those super frontcourts.
The reporters murmured among themselves, echoing the same conclusion:
Whoever controlled the paint would win. That was the lesson from last year's Knicks-Lakers Finals. But what did Portland have inside to battle Shaq, Robinson, Yao, and Duncan?
Zhao Dong simply smiled. "You're right—the new season will be tough. The Lakers and Nets have elite bigs. But I'm still confident I can beat them."
He scanned the crowd, his eyes sharp. "If you think the Blazers have no shot, then I guess you really are just reporters for a reason."
Laughter rippled through the room.
One bold reporter grinned. "Zhao, if I had your body, I'd be the god of basketball too!"
Zhao shot him a disdainful look. "There are plenty of guys on the streets of America with bodies like mine. Are they basketball gods? That comment just proves you're not only a reporter—but an amateur basketball reporter at that."
He straightened up, smirking. "Fine, since today's a good day, I'll give you all a basketball lesson."
The room went silent.
"Basketball isn't about throwing money at a few superstars and hoping it sticks," Zhao said. "The Lakers' so-called super frontcourt? David Robinson is old. His mobility is gone. If we push the pace, can he and Shaq keep up? No. We'll run them into the ground."
Reporters exchanged surprised looks.
"Yeah," one whispered, "if Zhao runs the break, the Lakers' bigs can't keep up. They'd get burned in transition."
Another countered, "Sure, but in a half-court game, the Lakers would crush Portland. And don't forget, Kobe's on another level now."
Opinions split quickly.
Zhao continued, "As for the Nets—same thing. Do you think Yao Ming and Tim Duncan can keep up with me? I'll run them until their legs give out."
The room fell quiet again, every reporter staring at him in disbelief.
"But what about the perimeter?" someone finally challenged. "The Lakers have Kobe. The Nets have Marbury. Who do you have? Eddie Jones? He couldn't even keep his starting job with the Lakers. Kobe forced him out."
Zhao laughed. "You're worried about Jones stopping them? You're asking the wrong question. Can Kobe or Marbury stop me?"
The room went silent again. His confidence was overwhelming, almost arrogant—but no one could deny his point.
If Zhao stretched the floor and forced switches, Shaq, Duncan, and Yao wouldn't be able to guard him. Perimeter players would have to pick him up—and none of them could defend him one-on-one.
A reporter raised his hand cautiously. "Zhao, do you agree with the theory of the God-Slaying Lineup? Spreading the floor to open driving lanes?"
Zhao snorted. "God-Slaying Lineup? That's just a fancy name for drive-and-kick. You think you can beat me with that? Don't make me laugh. There's no one who can guard me straight up. No one who can keep up with me. God-Slaying lineup? Please. I'll crush it."
---
Trail Blazers Headquarters – The Welcome Ceremony
The press conference wrapped, and Zhao headed to the Blazers' headquarters for his official team welcome. Management and players gathered in the team facility, chatting in small groups.
Shawn Marion and Fordson stood together, buzzing about their new teammate.
A little further away, Jermaine O'Neal, Steve Smith, and several veterans talked among themselves.
On the far side, a group of seasoned Blazers players gathered, including Detlef Schrempf, Brian Grant, and Eddie Jones. Except for Jones, who had just joined, they were all established locker-room leaders.
The final group included Damon "Flying Squirrel" Stoudamire, Bonzi Wells, and the newly acquired Shawn Kemp.
---
Locker Room Politics
Schrempf nudged Brian Grant, lowering his voice. "Listen, Brian—don't pick a fight with Zhao. It won't end well for you."
Grant smirked. "You think I'm stupid enough to clash with him? I stayed here for a reason."
Indeed, after last season, Grant's contract had expired, and the Miami Heat had already made him an offer. But once Zhao Dong signed with Portland, Grant changed his mind.
He wanted a ring—and Zhao might be his best chance to get it.
Brian Grant had originally planned to reclaim his role as the Trail Blazers' starting power forward this season. Portland's interior was thin, and Detlef Schrempf was already past his prime. But after signing his contract, the management blindsided him—they wanted him coming off the bench.
Worse, they made it clear that the team was focusing on developing Jermaine O'Neal, someone Zhao Dong had vouched for personally.
And as if that wasn't enough, the front office went out and signed Shawn Kemp and Danny Fortson—one a once-dominant, beastly power forward, and the other a relentless glass-eater. Both were clearly brought in to eat into Grant's minutes.
Grant wasn't happy. And his annoyance with Zhao Dong, the team's new superstar, wasn't exactly a secret.
Schrempf, a veteran leader and locker-room diplomat, noticed Grant's mood right away and tried to talk him down before Zhao Dong arrived.
Grant let out a bitter smile, nodding slightly. "Relax, Detlef. I'm not here to pick a fight. I just want fair competition."
Schrempf gave him a reassuring pat on the back before gesturing for him to follow. Together, they walked toward Shawn Marion's group, joining the players who had already chosen to side with Zhao Dong.
---
The Other Side of the Room
Not everyone was so willing to accept Zhao Dong's authority.
"They're selling out," Damon Stoudamire sneered when he saw Grant and Schrempf join Marion. "Just trying to curry favor."
Bonzi Wells scoffed. "I'm not impressed by that Chinese guy. Fans love him, sure, but to me? He's nothing."
Shawn Kemp yawned lazily, his irritation clear. "Management's acting like we're welcoming a damn king. Why drag us into this circus?"
Stoudamire's eyes narrowed. "We need to stand our ground. No bowing to Zhao Dong. We stick together, we push back."
"Agreed."
"Count me in," Wells muttered.
And just like that, the three of them—Stoudamire, Wells, and Kemp—formed a quiet pact. They'd test Zhao Dong, maybe provoke him a little, just to send a message.
Zhao Dong already knew his new teammates well before landing in Portland.
The current roster was solid:
Starters: Zhao Dong, Jermaine O'Neal, Shawn Marion, Eddie Jones, Damon Stoudamire
Key Bench Players: Steve Smith, Greg Anthony, Rod Strickland, Bonzi Wells, Detlef Schrempf, Dale Davis, Brian Grant, Danny Fortson, Shawn Kemp
Schrempf, at 37, was playing his final NBA season. He had no real on-court impact left but remained valuable as a locker-room presence.
Dale Davis, 31, wasn't much of a scorer but was still a dependable rebounder and shot-blocker, averaging 1.2 blocks last season. He'd be a steady part of the second unit.
Brian Grant, at 28, was still tough and physical, but last year's injuries had slowed him down. He, Fortson, and Davis would rotate as the primary backup bigs.
The big gamble, however, was Shawn Kemp. Portland's front office envisioned Kemp pairing with Jermaine O'Neal in the starting frontcourt, with Zhao Dong sliding to small forward. On paper, it looked solid—if Kemp could find his old form.
The backcourt rotation remained steady with Steve Smith, Bonzi Wells, and Greg Anthony filling in.
Portland wasn't stacked with superstars, but they were deep and talented enough to reach the Western Conference Finals last year.
Still, Zhao Dong knew the darker side of this franchise.
In another life, Portland would soon earn the nickname "The Jail Blazers." Scandals, arrests, drug problems—this team would become infamous.
The warning signs were already there. Damon Stoudamire's off-court issues, Shawn Kemp's rumored drug use, and other players with questionable reputations could easily drag the team into chaos.
But not this time.
With Larry Bird replacing Mike Dunleavy as head coach, Zhao Dong believed he could steer the team in a different direction. He'd turned the Knicks into a disciplined, respectable team—he'd do the same here.
Players who couldn't be trusted? He'd push management to trade them.
After finishing his press conference at the airport, Zhao Dong headed straight to the Blazers' headquarters for the team's internal welcome event.
The large conference room buzzed with conversation as players grouped together in small circles.
The moment Zhao walked in, all chatter paused.
---
The Entrance
"He's here," Stoudamire whispered, his eyes narrowing with anticipation. Today, he planned to make a statement.
But the sight that greeted him stopped him cold.
Zhao Dong entered the room flanked by a dozen bodyguards, all in black suits, sunglasses, and—most shockingly—bulletproof vests.
Stoudamire's confidence evaporated instantly. "The hell? It's just basketball. Why the hell does he need an army?"
Instinctively, he stepped back, slipping behind Kemp and Wells.
Kemp glanced sideways at the imposing security detail. The suits, the vests—hell, they might even be armed. "Yeah… maybe today's not the day to start anything," he muttered under his breath, lowering his head.
Even Bonzi Wells, who had just been badmouthing Zhao minutes earlier, said nothing, silently taking a step back.
"Boss!"
The first to greet Zhao were Danny Fortson and Shawn Marion, rushing over with genuine enthusiasm.
"Did you waste the off-season?" Zhao asked with a grin.
"No, sir!" they answered in unison.
Zhao turned to Marion. "Sean, how's that three-point shot coming along?"
Marion chuckled sheepishly. "It's… serviceable."
"Not good enough," Zhao replied firmly. "This season, I want you taking at least five threes a game."
"Five?" Marion's eyes widened.
Marion's jaw dropped as he stared at Zhao Dong.
Five threes a game? he thought to himself. If I start chucking that many, my shooting percentage is going to tank. Coach is going to lose it.
Before Marion could respond, several teammates walked over, curious about what Zhao was saying. Zhao glanced at them and smiled.
"Alright, let's do this properly," Zhao said, raising his voice. "Is there anyone here who still doesn't know me?"
The room froze for a beat before bursting into laughter.
"Ha ha…"
Zhao grinned and stepped forward, shaking hands with the veterans first.
"Detlef," Zhao greeted warmly, giving Schrempf a firm handshake.
Then he turned to Eddie Jones.
"Zhao Dong, it's great to finally play with you," Eddie said with a smile.
"Same here," Zhao replied. "Let's take down the Lakers together."
"That's exactly what I want to hear!" Eddie said, practically beaming.
"The first game of the regular season is against the Lakers," Zhao added. "So, be ready."
"I've been ready since the moment I signed," Eddie laughed.
Brian Grant came forward next, extending his hand. "Hey, Zhao."
"Brian," Zhao said with an easy smile, shaking his hand.
At that moment, Zhao glanced around at the teammates who had already lined up behind him—Marion, Fortson, Schrempf, Grant, and Eddie Jones. Between these guys and the quiet respect from others like Steve Smith, Zhao knew he already had control of the locker room.
Even Jermaine O'Neal—"O'Neal Jr." as the media called him—looked like he'd been waiting for Zhao his whole career. The young forward's voice practically boomed across the room when he yelled, "Boss!"
Management had told him straight out that Zhao Dong personally believed in his potential and that he'd be a key part of the new season. That was all O'Neal needed to hear.
After greeting the majority of the team, Zhao turned his gaze toward the far corner of the room.
Bonzi Wells. Damon Stoudamire. Shawn Kemp.
The three troublemakers were standing together, whispering among themselves, too proud—or too stubborn—to come over.
Zhao didn't bother walking to them.
If they want to stay over there, let them, Zhao thought. I'll deal with them later.
He looked away and raised his voice.
"Hey, at the airport, the media asked me about my goal for this season. Anyone know what I told them?"
"Championship!" Marion shouted without hesitation.
Everyone laughed again. Zhao had become famous for always giving the same answer to that question, no matter the team or the situation.
"That's right," Zhao said with a grin. "And that's our only goal this season."
He looked at Fortson and Marion.
The two instantly caught on, clenching their fists and yelling in unison, "Championship!"
Zhao stepped to the center of the room, raising his right hand. "Come on, everybody."
One by one, players stepped forward, stacking their hands on top of Zhao's. Grant hesitated for only a second before placing his hand on top too.
Across the room, Stoudamire, Wells, and Kemp froze, exchanging awkward glances.
Assistant GM Mark spotted them instantly, his expression darkening. "You three, get over here!" he barked, waving his hand.
But Zhao didn't wait. He looked around at the players who had joined him and shouted, "No matter how strong our opponents are, we have only one goal!"
"CHAMPIONSHIP!"
The room roared as fists shot into the air.
Stoudamire, Wells, and Kemp stayed where they were, silent and sullen.
---
The Office Meeting
After the welcome party, team owner Paul Allen left early, leaving Zhao and Whitsitt to talk privately in the latter's office.
Once they sat down, Zhao didn't waste any time.
"Has Shawn Kemp passed the drug test?" he asked directly.
Whitsitt shifted uncomfortably. "Honestly, Zhao, I didn't expect…"
Zhao nodded slowly. "He looks heavier than he should. Is his weight anywhere near O'Neal's right now?"
Wittest sighed. "Close. I thought he still had something left in the tank, but… yeah, we might have just swallowed a bad contract."
"In that case," Zhao said bluntly, "we need to move that contract as soon as possible."
Wittest blinked. "We?"
Zhao leaned forward, his tone cold. "I need a united locker room. No troublemakers. No distractions. If Kemp—or anyone else—can't fall in line, I want them gone."
Whitsitt rubbed his temples, already knowing exactly who Zhao meant. Stoudamire. Wells. Kemp.
Zhao continued, "I was willing to give them a chance, but it's obvious they don't respect me. So, Mr. Whitsitt, I normally don't interfere with management decisions, but I'm making this clear: trade them."
Whitsitt hesitated, then nodded. "Alright, Zhao. I'll get it done as soon as possible."
He didn't have much of a choice. Paul Allen had signed Zhao Dong to bring a championship to Portland, and if Zhao wanted something, the front office would move mountains to make it happen.
---
The next day, the Trail Blazers planned to officially introduce Zhao to the city at the Rose Garden Arena.
Fans would be allowed in for free, and the team expected the stadium to be packed to its 21,000-seat capacity.
The Rose Garden itself was an impressive venue, with 14,000 fixed seats, over 1,500 premium seats in private boxes, and thousands of movable bleachers.
Tomorrow would also double as the official media day for the Blazers' new season.
---
The New Villa
After leaving the Blazers' headquarters, Zhao returned to the villa his wife Lindsay had purchased for him in Portland.
The estate was massive, far larger than their home in New York. A private nursery had been built for their four sons, and the backyard included a full playground and an outdoor training court.
The housekeeper, Ms. Abel, had already moved the family staff from New York, including security personnel.
The renovation and furnishing alone had cost over $20 million, and it showed—everything from the marble floors to the custom kitchen screamed luxury.
Zhao spent the evening at home, relaxing with his family for the first time since arriving in Portland.
The next morning, he boarded a car with Ringo Wells and headed for the Rose Garden Arena, ready to officially begin his new journey with the Trail Blazers.
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