The game had ended, but the heat lingered in the arena like the aftermath of a battlefield.
Charles Barkley shook his head during the postgame analysis.
"The Lakers' tactics were on point tonight. They gave Shaq the protection he needed, which not only freed him up but saved his energy for the fourth quarter. You could see it in the way he finished strong. The Blazers didn't lose this one unfairly—they got outmaneuvered."
Kenny Smith leaned back, smiling.
"Zhao Dong might be known as the God of Efficiency, but tonight exposed one of his few weaknesses—especially against two elite big men like Shaq and The Admiral."
Barkley raised an eyebrow. "And that weakness is…?"
"No height in the paint," Smith answered flatly.
Barkley nodded solemnly.
"True. Zhao's got power, speed, and finesse, but he's giving up size every time he tries to post up or drive against those two. Tonight, he had to work from the outside. That drops his efficiency. And then the Lakers fouled him relentlessly—kept him out of the restricted area completely. That's why Portland lost."
Smith added, "And on the defensive end, Kobe had him locked up just enough to force help. He couldn't contest against Shaq or Robinson with real effectiveness. It became a chess match—and the Lakers controlled the board."
Barkley folded his arms.
"Now the Blazers are heading to L.A. for back-to-back road games. Larry Bird has to make adjustments—and fast."
Smith nodded.
"Phil Jackson adjusted after Game 1. He gambled with foul tactics and it paid off. Now it's Larry's turn."
Barkley smirked.
"The Lakers have the better starting five. But Portland's bench depth is elite. Just like during the regular season—these teams are neck-and-neck. Coaching strategy's the difference-maker now."
Smith chuckled.
"If Bird doesn't adjust in Game 3, this series could be over before it even gets back to Portland."
---
Meanwhile, on CCTV, Zhang Heli summarized the Blazers' woes for Chinese audiences:
"The Lakers were smart. Most fouls on Zhao Dong came after he beat Kobe—help defenders swooped in and fouled him before he could even rise. Larry Bird didn't make offensive adjustments quickly enough. The damage was supposed to hit Shaq and Robinson—not the Lakers' wings. That's a tactical miss."
Su Qun chimed in, frustrated.
"But Zhao Dong's free throw percentage is over 90%! How did that help the Lakers?"
Zhang Heli explained,
"Yes, but unlike Zhao Dong's midrange or inside shots, free throws don't draw in defenders or shift defensive schemes. And the Lakers had a dominant interior offense—they could afford the tradeoff. Most teams couldn't. That's why it worked."
---
Backstage, the Trail Blazers left the court with bitter expressions. The Lakers, meanwhile, celebrated and spoke to the press. The stars were swarmed immediately.
A reporter from the Los Angeles Sports Daily caught up with Shaquille O'Neal.
"Shaq, you played like the God of Efficiency tonight. Any words for your critics?"
Shaq grinned, chest out.
"We're gonna destroy them. It's gonna be us, the Lakers, in the Finals."
Next up was David Robinson.
"Admiral, you had options—Trail Blazers, New Orleans, even Philly. But you picked the Lakers. Michael Jordan said it was the wrong choice. What do you say to that now?"
Robinson smirked.
"Facts don't lie. My choice was right. Tonight proved that."
Kobe Bryant was quieter, more reserved.
"Kobe, you scored just 17 tonight. Any thoughts?"
"Winning's all that matters. I held Zhao Dong in check. That's my job."
He said it with a shrug, but everyone could tell—he wasn't satisfied. He wanted more.
---
Inside the Blazers' locker room, Larry Bird wasted no time.
"That was on me. The game plan failed. Zhao should've been hammering Shaq and Robinson—not the wings. We didn't create enough screens or spacing to get him downhill."
Bird paused, voice sharp.
"If they try that again in Game 3, we're Hacking the Shark."
The room stirred.
Fordson barked, "Damn right—hack him!"
Brian Grant roared, "Let him cry at the free throw line!"
Even the quiet ones nodded. The mood was unified—righteous fury.
Bird closed the meeting.
"Hit the showers. We regroup in the morning."
---
Zhao Dong stood silently under the stream, letting the hot water pound his shoulders.
Tonight had been frustrating. He hadn't played poorly—54 points on 10-of-18 shooting and 34-of-35 from the line—but he had played constrained. Foul after foul, body after body—it was like trying to drive through a wall of quicksand.
Worse, the Badge—his new go-to in physical games—was never activated. The Lakers never let him get into rhythm.
---
Later, Zhao Dong walked into the postgame press conference with Eddie Jones and Coach Bird.
But first, a hallway encounter.
Shaq, still amped, called out.
"Zhao Dong! You're done, man!"
Zhao turned slowly. His voice was calm—but deadly.
"I'll drop 100 on you at Staples if I feel like it. Can you stop me?"
Shaq sneered. "You think you're a god?"
Zhao Dong walked past, muttering:
"I'll either beat you up—or hack you down."
Shaq froze.
"hack?"
Phil Jackson flinched. If the Blazers started hacking Shaq, this series could flip in an instant.
---
Inside the media room, the questions came fast.
"Zhao Dong, what do you think of the Lakers' foul tactics?"
"They made the game ugly. But every tactic has a weakness. We'll find theirs."
"Will the Blazers start hacking Shaq?"
"If they keep fouling me for no reason, why not? Fair's fair."
Another reporter jumped in.
"Do you still think David Robinson made the wrong choice joining the Lakers?"
Zhao Dong laughed.
"Absolutely."
"Why?"
He stared into the cameras.
"Because I'm the one who decides if his choice was right. Not him. Not the Lakers. Me."
The room fell into stunned silence. That confidence—it wasn't arrogance. It was conviction.
---
On July 22nd, the media storm broke loose.
Most analysts agreed: the Lakers had won, but barely. The bigger headline?
Zhao Dong's warning.
If the Lakers kept fouling, the Blazers would start hacking Shaq.
And that—was something the Lakers couldn't survive.
Before the Lakers departed Portland, they caught wind through the media that the Trail Blazers were likely to use the Hack-a-Shaq tactic in the next game. The news immediately sparked concern within the team.
Although intentional fouls weren't allowed in the final two minutes of each quarter, if Portland employed the strategy from the outset, the Lakers might find themselves helpless.
Phil Jackson knew adjustments were inevitable. He had to ditch the foul tactic altogether.
Game 3 was set for the 25th, giving both teams a few days to rest. The Trail Blazers, in no rush, stayed behind in Portland before flying out to Los Angeles on the 24th—accompanied by two thousand diehard fans.
That same night, the Eastern Conference Finals kicked off. The Nets relied on dominant interior play to overpower the young Bulls and take Game 1. Yao Ming logged 40 minutes, shooting 12-of-20 from the field and a perfect 10-of-10 from the line, finishing with 34 points and 9 rebounds.
The Bulls' frontcourt was clearly outmatched. Oakley, past his prime, struggled to keep up. Big Bus came off the bench for 24 minutes and went 3-of-10 from the field, 2-of-3 from the line, tallying just 8 points and 4 rebounds against Yao.
The Nets kept their foot on the gas in Game 2, cruising to another win at home with unstoppable momentum heading toward the Finals.
Meanwhile, on the morning of the 25th, Dazhi and Hu Weidong arrived in Los Angeles, accompanied by Hu's wife and Dazhi's parents. They were preparing to return to China after catching Game 3 of the Western Conference Finals.
Zhao Dong called Kobe to request five tickets.
In under two hours, Kobe personally delivered them—front-row seats.
"That's a serious favor," Zhao Dong said, eyeing the premium tickets.
"Only the best for you," Kobe replied with a smirk. "Now how about dinner?"
Zhao Dong, Hu Weidong, and Dazhi joined him at a high-end Western restaurant.
"Kobe, planning to go at me again tonight?" Zhao Dong asked as they sat down.
Kobe scoffed. "We don't need to hack you to win."
"You're still as stubborn as ever," Zhao Dong chuckled.
"Who's stubborn?" Kobe raised his chin defiantly.
As they joked and exchanged barbs, Zhao Dong suddenly turned to Dazhi, something crossing his mind.
Back in his previous life, Dazhi had already married his first wife by now. But this time, things were different.
"You got a girlfriend yet?" Zhao Dong asked, curious.
Dazhi froze for a second, then scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. "Not yet."
Zhao Dong grinned. "Bro, it's time. I've already got four sons."
Pfft—
Hu Weidong nearly spat out his drink, and the whole table erupted in laughter.
"I'd love to have a few sons too," Kobe said, suddenly serious. "Raise them to hoop like me."
"You?" Zhao Dong looked skeptical but didn't say more.
Kobe leaned forward. "What's that look for? You think I can't have sons?"
"Heh." Zhao Dong smirked.
"What do you mean, 'heh'? Spit it out!" Kobe snapped.
Zhao Dong leaned back smugly. "Whether you have sons or daughters—it's all fate. And I don't think you've got the 'son' fate."
Kobe's eyes narrowed. "I swear, I'll have more sons than you. Just wait."
"I can pop out four in one go. Eight if we go two rounds. Can you beat that?" Zhao Dong teased.
Kobe jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair. "You're ridiculous!"
The whole table burst into laughter again, drawing looks from nearby guests.
---
That night, Staples Center glittered with celebrities as a galaxy of stars packed the arena.
The tip-off was set for 8:30 PM. At 8 o'clock sharp, the starting lineups were announced:
Trail Blazers: Jermaine O'Neal, Brian Grant, Shawn Marion, Eddie Jones, Zhao Dong
Lakers: Shaquille O'Neal, David Robinson, Rick Fox, Kobe Bryant, Ron Harper
Over on the TNT broadcast table, Charles Barkley grinned ear to ear. "The Golden Tyrant said if the Lakers foul him again, the Blazers will return the favor and hack Shaq all night long. Kenny, you think the Lakers dare to try it tonight?"
Kenny Smith chuckled. "No way."
"Why not?"
"Because if they do, they'll be the first to get buried."
CCTV's commentary booth was just as lively.
Su Qun said, "The Lakers won't use foul tactics tonight. Larry Bird went easy on them last game."
Zhang Heli laughed. "Bird's a true superstar—more gracious than Nelson. Jackson only went to the foul tactic because he had no other answer."
"Exactly," Su Qun added. "Since his Bulls days to now with the Lakers, Jackson's never beaten the Golden Tyrant. His pride's long gone."
---
At 8:15 PM, both teams emerged to roaring applause.
Tip-off at 8:30.
O'Neal won the jump for Portland. Blazers ball.
The Lakers came out in a mixed defense—Kobe guarding Zhao Dong.
Zhao Dong brought the ball past half court to the left wing. The Lakers' zone shifted accordingly. The Blazers spread out, pulling both big men out of the paint and leaving the lane open.
Zhao Dong feinted, spun past Kobe, and drove into the open wing.
Fox rotated over fast, while Robinson—pulled out earlier by O'Neal—slid back in for help defense. Kobe chased hard, forming a triple-team around Zhao Dong.
But Zhao Dong didn't hesitate. He stopped on a dime, rose, and fired.
Three defenders collapsed—but they were too late. The Badge activated, boosting his confidence to the max. The fluidity of his movement was picture-perfect.
In the previous game, this move would've been interrupted by an intentional foul. But not tonight.
Swish!
Two points on the board.
"Let's see how you plan to stop me now," Zhao Dong muttered, ice-cold as he jogged back on defense.
He had only one goal tonight—break 100 again.
---
On the Lakers' next possession, O'Neal and Robinson pushed into the post. O'Neal powered straight toward the rim, with Robinson hovering at mid-range.
Kobe received the ball from Harper and attacked the right wing, drawing the defense. He swung it to Robinson, who baited the help defenders, then lobbed it over the top to Shaq.
Boom!
O'Neal caught it mid-air and slammed it home over Brian Grant.
Fortunately, Grant timed his jump well and didn't commit a foul—no and-one.
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