At noon on the 5th, the NBA officially dropped the bomb—announcing to the media and every team that the anti-isolation rules were back in play, with a few tweaks and additions.
As for the other three rule proposals—zone defense, defensive three seconds, and allowing double-teams on off-ball players—they didn't make the cut. Not passed. Not happening.
The media instantly went crazy, calling it the start of a brand new era.
As the last guy to ever fully benefit from the old rules, Jordan was quickly tracked down by reporters for an interview.
He said, "Congrats to Zhao Dong. I hope he can do what I did—under these rules—lead his squad to a dynasty. Then, and only then, can we be compared."
The media immediately ran with it.
NBC broke it down in their midday report: "Jordan's message is loud and clear—he ain't counting the Knicks' '96-'97 title as legit under the old setup. If Zhao Dong wants to be on MJ's level, he's gotta run it back—three more rings, three more Finals MVPs, as the main man—under the new restrictions."
NBC top analysts, Matt Goukas and Marv Albert, pulled in Hall of Fame big man Bill Walton for commentary.
Walton said, "Look, the core of this anti-isolation rule ain't changed. It still has two goals: lock up Jordan—or now, Zhao Dong—or just sag off them and clamp down their teammates.
Last season, it was like a soft version of the Jordan Rule. The help defense wasn't fast enough, so Zhao had all kinds of space to shake his man. But now? With the rule fully back? That space is gone.
And then there's Article 138. That's the game-changer. Honestly? This new version of the anti-iso rule should be called the Zhao Dong Rule.
Jordan didn't drive with the ball that much. Pippen used to run the offense. And now with Kidd? He's got an elite floor general. So this rule barely even touches him.
But Zhao? He lives off that first step, changing speeds, breaking ankles with that stop-and-go. And yeah, he can still break dudes off. But now? Help defense is quicker. It's way harder to get clean looks driving like that.
If I'm Zhao? I'm thinking low post. That's his bag anyway, and it keeps Article 138 from messing with his flow."
That afternoon, the Knicks opened up part of practice to the media, and Zhao Dong faced a few quick questions.
"Zhao," asked team reporter Thomas, "how do you think the new rule is gonna affect you?"
Zhao grinned. "I'm gonna shock everybody."
"So… you're saying it won't affect you much?"
"Nah," Zhao replied. "It's gonna hit hard. I'm gonna get blitzed faster, passing lanes will shrink, the offense will tighten up, and I'll be forced to take more tough shots under pressure. But so what? If Jordan could handle it, I can too."
"Do you agree with what Jordan said? That your first ring doesn't really count, and if you wanna match him, you gotta lead your team to a three-peat as the solo alpha?"
"No doubt," Zhao said instantly.
"Whoa…" the reporters muttered.
"Zhao," asked a New York Times reporter, "with these rules, are you moving back to the low block?"
"My game's not changing for nobody," Zhao shot back.
"Damn…" the press murmured again.
"You think zone defense is coming next?" asked a New York Sports Daily guy.
"Not yet," Zhao replied. "The timing ain't right. Maybe after I build a dynasty. The league's gotta let me eat in the same setup Jordan had. Otherwise, what's the point of comparing us?"
He laughed while throwing a little shade.
Later, at 6 p.m., Madison Square Garden hosted an official Knicks press conference with Zhao Dong present.
One of the team's legal reps stepped up: "Mr. Manley's racially charged comments caused serious harm to Mr. Zhao Dong. We are seeking $2 billion in damages—mental distress and more."
"Damn!" the media exploded.
Also seated at the table? The legal dream team—personally assembled by Mrs. Dolores, Zhao Dong, and Lindsay. They didn't spare a single dollar. Tens of millions went into this squad.
Five superstar lawyers. Twenty-seven senior attorneys. Every one of them a killer in New York courts. Two of the top five? Legislators in the New York State government.
The goal? Make an example out of Manley. Put a permanent end to any racial discrimination aimed at Zhao Dong, not just here—but across the Western world.
And this lawsuit? It's also about putting heat on the sneaker giants—Adidas, Nike—telling them to think twice before they mess with Zhao or Zhao Dong Sports again.
If Zhao wins this case? He ain't just a superstar—he becomes untouchable. A true powerhouse in the West. No one's gonna look at him the same.
"Zhao Dong don't play around. Dude's rich, and he's coming for blood," said one business insider, stunned at the legal firepower on display.
When the news broke, Sharon Stone saw the list of lawyers… and she freaked.
She had no clue if Zhao planned to come after her next, but if he did, she was finished.
"Help me, Karen!" she cried over the phone to her agent. "I'll take any deal he wants. Anything! I don't wanna be ruined!"
"Sharon, I'm sorry," Karen Sellars replied coldly. "I can't reach him. He's outside our circles now. Look at that legal team—any one of those five lawyers could bury us. We can't go up against that. We're done."
Karen had already decided: Sharon Stone was no longer worth saving.
In New York, if you ever gotta choose between dealing with a gangster or a lawyer, most New Yorkers would rather square up with the gangster—'cause lawyers? They're way harder to shake off.
And this legal squad? Man, facing them would feel like stepping into hell.
Meanwhile, all the way in Salt Lake City, Utah, Karl Malone's agent was losing his damn mind.
He was pacing like a madman, yelling at Malone who just got home.
"Are they outta their minds? Two billion dollars?! Hell, even if they chopped me up and sold me by the pound, I ain't worth two million! Adidas should be helping me out! This is all stuff they told me to say!"
"Manley, calm down," Malone said, trying to chill him out. "We'll figure something out. We can't just roll over and pay whatever they demand."
"Did you see that lawyer squad? Do you even know how much it costs to put together a team like that?! We're talking tens of millions, not just some spare change."
Manley turned red in the face, yelling again: "I said all that for YOU! You better talk to Adidas and put some pressure on 'em—or I'll air everything out!"
"I got you, I promise."
Sweat started rolling down Malone's face. If Manley really exposed everything, he was cooked too. And now, he was already feeling the heat.
He hit up his sponsor Adidas right away, and they assured him they'd talk to some Nike execs to find a way outta this mess.
7 PM, Madison Square Garden was already buzzing—packed to the rafters inside and out.
Zhao Dong pulled up with Lindsay, coming up from the underground parking garage. Just as they stepped out, they ran into James Dolan, Ernie Grunfeld, and a few of the Knicks' top brass.
"Zhao Dong, Miss Lindsay," Dolan greeted with a respectful nod.
As of today, Dolan knew everything had changed.
Before, even though Zhao Dong had buy the New York Jets and had money, in America, having money don't always mean power. To guys like Dolan, money without connections just makes you a juicy target. The real players are the ones with wealth and influence. That's why he never really took Zhao Dong seriously.
But after seeing that legal team yesterday? Those five big-name lawyers? That kind of crew ain't something you can just buy with a blank check. Even Dolan's family would struggle to assemble a squad like that.
His guess? Zhao Dong called in some favors through Lindsay. That's why now, Dolan showed her even more respect than Zhao Dong himself.
As Zhao Dong and Lindsay made their way through the Garden, they passed by a ton of big shots from New York's high society. The vibe was different now—people weren't just nodding; they were acknowledging him.
Respect. That's the word Zhao Dong felt.
By 7:30 PM, the starting lineups for both teams were locked in.
Miami Heat:
Luc Longley
Alonzo Mourning
Jamal Mashburn
Voshon Leonard
Tim Hardaway
New York Knicks:
Ben Wallace
Charles Oakley
Zhao Dong
Allan Houston
Chauncey Billups
NBC was running the broadcast nationwide, and over in China, CCTV was airing the game live too.
Up in the booth, Marv Albert took the mic.
"These two hard-nosed squads built by Pat Riley are going head-to-head again. When they meet in the playoffs, it's not just basketball—it's a straight-up brawl. Tonight should be no different."
Matt Goukas jumped in. "The anti-isolation rule is back, and they've added Article 138—which specifically targets Zhao Dong. The media's already calling it the Zhao Dong Rule. So the biggest question tonight? How much will it affect his game?"
"Exactly," Marv said with a smirk. "If Zhao Dong really wants to be mentioned in the same breath as MJ, this is the kind of adversity he's gotta beat."
Over on CCTV, Zhang Heli was breaking it down for Chinese viewers:
"Oakley is back in the starting five. That's definitely because of the new Zhao Dong Rule. On offense, Oakley will pull out to the perimeter and leave Big Ben holding down the low post. That way, Zhao Dong can handle the ball up top and use his cut-in strategy.
"If both Fordson and Ben were stuck in the paint, the new rules would lock 'em up. Once the ball handler is above the free throw line, only two defenders are allowed to sink into the paint, and no off-ball cuts from the perimeter are allowed."
Back in the Knicks' locker room, Zhao Dong opened up the system.
A new mission dropped: same setup as the last series—dominate to earn a system fragment. But this one was heavier.
It was a full system playoff series—best-of-seven. Meaning Zhao Dong needed at least four dominant games to secure the reward.
The Heat? They weren't pushovers.
He remembered how in his past life, the Knicks had copied Miami's tactic in the playoffs.
Back in the '96-'97 season, when the Knicks were down big, Pat Riley pulled the ultimate move—he had P.J. Brown goon it up, forcing all five Knicks starters to get ejected. That stunt got the Heat past the first round.
But the next season, the Knicks turned the tables. In the first round, Larry Johnson swung on Alonzo Mourning. Both got ejected. With Zo out of the picture, the Knicks eliminated the Heat 3-2.
But in this timeline? Zhao Dong had already rewritten history and knocked the Heat out last year.
So now what?
He had a feeling Pat Riley wouldn't hesitate to try that same exchange tactic again if the Heat fell behind by too much.
And over in the visitor locker room, Pat Riley was thinking about it.
Cold-blooded and calculating as ever, the only thing on Riley's mind was this:
If I push Zhao Dong too far... what kind of monster will I unleash?
He couldn't help but think about it—after all, Zhao Dong did catch a body.
After weighing his options, he made a quick decision: if the Knicks snatch match point, he'd take a shot.
With the new anti-isolation rule in play, he figured Zhao Dong would be affected. But still, he was hyped for the series.
Both teams lined up for introductions. In the past, a few dudes would try to talk smack to Zhao Dong, but now? Ain't nobody bold enough to poke that bear.
Just imagine it: piss Zhao Dong off, you either get stomped out in front of thousands, or you end up getting sued for two billion. Who can afford that? Even Jordan would have to think twice.
Nowadays, if you throw a punch at Zhao Dong, you better ask yourself—do you want hands or bankruptcy?
So Mourning just led his squad out quietly, and the boos poured in.
The Heat, much like the Bulls, always got the full MSG welcome treatment as sworn enemies.
"Ahhh!"
Zhao Dong was the last to hit the court. As the spotlight locked on him, the Garden exploded.
"Iron Man! Iron Man!"
"Zhao Dong! Zhao Dong!"
The crowd went wild, fans waving, losing their minds.
Zhao Dong gave them a wave and walked to center court.
He motioned to the host, who quickly handed him the mic.
The arena fell dead silent, waiting on his pre-game speech.
Zhao Dong looked around, then shouted:
"With this new anti-iso rule dropping, we're stepping into something new.
But I'm telling y'all, a new era starts tonight.
You ready for it?"
"AHHH!"
As he held out the mic, nearly 20,000 fans answered with thunderous roars.
Ten minutes later, the game tipped off. Big Ben and Luke Longley jumped for it—Heat ball.
Tim Hardaway brought it down the right wing, took two dribbles, beat Billups slightly but stopped short. He rose up from mid-range and cashed it in—Heat on the board first.
When Zhao Dong's playing the perimeter, the Knicks go into a small-ball set.
This ain't about listed positions—it's about where they're playing.
If Zhao Dong drops into the paint on defense, it's halfcourt ball.
If he stays outside, it's small-ball action.
After a full season of grinding, Big Ben's D had leveled up heavy. With him and Oakley holding it down inside, Zhao Dong didn't need to collapse. So tonight, he was parked outside.
As the play flipped, Zhao Dong saw the shot go in and instantly turned and sprinted downcourt.
Big Ben grabbed the ball and stepped to the baseline fast. Billups rushed over, caught the inbound.
As soon as he had it, before the Tim could even press, Billups launched a deep lead pass.
Zhao Dong was already past halfcourt. The rock flew over his head, dropped down, and he caught it clean.
Nobody in front.
Hardaway was stuck back with Billups, couldn't recover.
Jamal Mashburn was trailing, but a step too slow. No chance.
Leonard came crashing from the other side, trying to meet him in the middle—too late.
Zhao Dong entered the paint and took off—
"BANG!"
Zhao Dong detonated on the rim, shaking the whole goal.
The backboard rattled, the rim screamed.
The Garden ERUPTED.
"Ohhh! A monster jam! That's violent beauty right there, folks. Tonight is Golden Tyrant's show!"
The in-arena commentator, hyped outta his mind, was going off.
Zhao Dong landed and charged straight to the baseline media booth.
Soon as he got there, every reporter scrambled toward him.
He looked straight into a camera and yelled:
"Yo, get the crew ready—I'm smashing the Heat's backboard tonight!"
"YEAHHH!!"
The fans behind him heard that and lost it again.
"Forget one—better have two ready!" Oakley ran up and bear-hugged Zhao Dong from behind.
"Then have two on standby!" Zhao Dong shouted at the camera again.
"Jamal, match his energy! The Knicks push the tempo! I've told you a hundred times!"
Pat Riley was heated, screaming at Mashburn from the sideline.
Heat brought it back up.
"Chauncey, lock him down!"
On the left wing, Zhao Dong shouted to Billups, who was on the right wing.
"Bang!"
Hardaway tried another quick drive—two steps—and BOOM, Billups bodied him to the ground.
Whistle blew. Heat ball again.
"Wooo…"
Billups climbed up, catching his breath, and leaned down to bark at Hardaway:
"You better bring insurance before you try crossing me, 'cause I'll break your legs."
He was labeled a bust in Boston, and even in New York, the boss didn't vibe with him. But now? He didn't care.
"Chauncey, that's how you do it!"
Zhao Dong's voice boomed from across the court.
Billups blinked—what?!
The boss didn't praise him when he dropped 20 before…
But knocking down Hardaway? That got love?
He was fired up now. He turned back to Zhao Dong and shouted:
"Boss! Watch this—I still got five fouls left!"
Hardaway's face turned dark real quick.
Was this dude really planning to foul him to death?
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