Wells immediately informed Zhao Dong about the shocking news. Zhao Dong was taken aback. Could the Mailman really be forming a superteam this early?
A prime Shaquille O'Neal paired with Karl Malone, still in his prime—such an interior duo would dominate both offensively and defensively. Add to that a young Kobe Bryant, just beginning to rise, and before Malone ages, a three-peat dynasty seems inevitable.
This isn't like the Jordan and the diminished Ewing duo, nor the 1998-99 championship Spurs with an aging Admiral. If such a Lakers team comes together, no matter how well Zhao Dong plays, he can't defeat them single-handedly.
Not just the Knicks—even the Bulls during their dynasty, with Jordan in his prime, couldn't overcome such a Lakers team.
The key point: their interior is unbeatable. With such high efficiency inside, they can overpower any team. No matter how strong the perimeter is, it can't match up.
In an interview with the media in Spain, Zhao Dong remarked,
"Last year, Ewing joining the Bulls wasn't considered forming a superteam, but now, the Mailman teaming up with O'Neal definitely is.
See, I said it. I wanted other stars to band together. This is my era. If they don't unite for strength, how can they survive?
So, I think we shouldn't be too harsh on them because they have no choice. Who wants to be someone else's sidekick?
I believe the league should approve this trade, let them win ten consecutive championships, and then the league will enter the era of teamwork. At that point, there will be no more superstars because superstars who team up aren't worthy of the title."
Beyond the players, many coaches and general managers also voiced opposition to the trade, including Pat Riley, Gregg Popovich, Don Nelson Sr., and Larry Bird.
Their statements exerted immense pressure on both the Jazz and the Lakers.
Karl Malone went into hiding for two days but eventually couldn't withstand the criticism. He gave an interview, expressing his frustration:
"I'm already 35, and so is Barkley. Why can he go to the Knicks, but I can't go to the Lakers?"
"He had nothing to say and could only bring up my age. But he didn't even consider my condition. He played 81 games last season. What did Michael say he averaged? Including the playoffs, there were 100 games. And what about me? Whether it's the number of games played or the average stats, I'm only half of him. Am I in my prime?"
Barkley immediately responded, questioning:
"Only when you're in your prime can you be considered part of a superteam. Am I, a veteran with injuries, qualified to be in a superteam? I'm only a substitute in the Knicks. Have you ever seen a superteam player be a substitute? If you, the Mailman, go to the Lakers, will you be a starter or a substitute? If you only play a dozen minutes per game, I'll accept it."
In Chicago, Phil Jackson was feeling uneasy.
The Lakers making such a deal—it was impossible for him not to be upset.
Also concerned were Jordan and Nike, which backed Jordan.
The Bulls now only had Rasheed Wallace in the interior. Could he hold off O'Neal and the Mailman? Even a three-year-old wouldn't believe it.
Such an interior combination is invincible. Not to mention one Jordan—even if you bring in another Jordan, they wouldn't be able to beat them.
"Why not just sign Ewing back with the veteran minimum salary? He can still play as a substitute."
With no other options, he came up with this idea, and after thinking about it, he felt it was a good idea to increase the bench depth.
Thinking of Ewing, he suddenly remembered someone. He slapped his head in annoyance, quickly started flipping through his personal phone book, found the person's number, and immediately dialed it.
"Hey, I'm Oakley."
"Charles, this is Phil Jackson. Good to hear your voice."
"Coach Jackson, do you have something to discuss with me?" Oakley asked, puzzled.
He was in New York now; his home was there. He had lived there for many years and didn't want to move. Even if he joined other teams in the next few seasons, he didn't want to sell his house there and planned to return in the future.
"Charles, do you want to continue working with Michael?" Phil Jackson asked.
"What?"
Oakley was a bit surprised.
But on second thought, the Bulls' interior lineup was too weak. They lost the Eastern Conference Finals again. It could be said that their interior was dominated by Zhao Dong. It wasn't surprising that Jackson was inviting him now.
"Sorry, Coach Jackson, I can't play for many more years. I want to join a more relaxed team."
But he already had two rings and had no intention of joining the Bulls. He knew too well how demanding Jordan was with his teammates, so he simply refused.
"Charles, come to the Bulls. I promise the contract will satisfy you, and you'll be a starter," said Phil Jackson.
"Is that so?"
Oakley pondered.
Although he was 35, he refused to admit his age. The reason he chose to leave the Knicks was to find more opportunities with other teams. Being a starter with the Bulls would certainly be good.
As for the pressure, would Jordan still dare to yell at him? If he dared to show displeasure, he'd call Zhao Dong to deal with him.
But he had just left the Knicks and joined the Bulls. Wasn't this the same as Ewing? He couldn't explain it to Zhao Dong.
"Michael, I want to bring in Oakley. We're in the process of discussing it. He still has some doubts. Please give him a call and talk to him."
At this time, Jackson called Jordan on his cell phone.
"OK."
Jordan agreed immediately.
In fact, he was a bit annoyed, like Jackson, searching everywhere for an interior player. Why hadn't he thought of Oakley? This was his first protector, and his strength was still there.
"Hey, Michael."
"Hey, Charles, you've been helping Zhao Dong for two years. Come and help me now. It's my turn anyway."
"Haha... But, Michael, I need to ask Zhao Dong for his opinion on this matter."
"Charles? Okay, okay, you call that guy."
"Zhao Dong is traveling around the world. I'll call you back when I get in touch with him."
"OK."
Oakley and Jordan ended the call.
Then, he sent an email to Zhao Dong, but he didn't receive a call from Zhao Dong until 9 o'clock in the evening.
"Zhao Dong, the Bulls reached out. Jordan himself called me. What do you think?" Oakley asked over the phone.
"The Bulls? No problem, as long as there's a contract," Zhao Dong replied calmly.
"You don't mind?"
"Haha, Charles, we're professionals. Why would I mind? Besides, Jordan and I have settled our differences."
"Alright, I'll get back to the Bulls then."
Oakley was thrilled to return to Chicago. Zhao Dong was also pleased; Oakley's presence would help mentor Dazhi. With Oakley around, Dazhi would be well-protected, and even Jordan would have to respect that.
Phil Jackson was delighted to receive Oakley's affirmative response. He offered Oakley a three-year, $27 million contract, surpassing the Raptors' $25 million offer.
At Nike headquarters, President Phil Knight pondered over Tim Duncan, the Spurs' rising star who had made an immediate impact since his debut. Duncan was under contract with Nike, but his understated playing style and position as a big man didn't translate into significant shoe sales, resulting in a modest endorsement deal.
Knight was concerned that the low-profile contract wouldn't provide enough influence over Duncan.
"Tim, there's an opportunity for you to join the Bulls. The exposure there is unparalleled. What do you think?" Duncan's agent relayed Nike's proposal.
"Joining forces?" Duncan mused. He immediately thought of the backlash Karl Malone was facing for attempting to join the Lakers. As an emerging superstar, he feared similar criticism.
"No, I don't want to be vilified," he declined promptly.
Undeterred, Nike approached the Spurs to discuss a potential trade for Duncan.
"If you even think about trading Tim Duncan, I'll file a complaint with the league," Popovich fumed upon receiving the call.
"Mr. Popovich, Nike ensures you and the Spurs won't suffer any losses. You'll receive ample compensation..." Knight tried to placate him.
"I want Zhao Dong or O'Neal," Popovich stated coldly.
"We can't make that happen," Knight admitted.
"Then take your compensation and shove it!" Popovich shouted, slamming the phone down.
"That stubborn old man!" Knight cursed, throwing the phone in frustration.
Subsequently, Popovich filed a formal complaint with the league against Nike's interference.
The Lakers' proposed trade had already stirred discontent. In the Western Conference, the Spurs were among the first to feel the impact. Now, with Nike attempting to poach Duncan, Popovich's anger boiled over.
"Mr. Knight, don't overstep. The league isn't your playground," Stern warned after receiving the Spurs' complaint.
"Mr. President, if we can't proceed, what about the Lakers' deal? If such trades are allowed, the NBA will descend into chaos," Knight retorted.
"The league will handle the matter. There's no need for your interference," Stern replied coldly, ending the call.
"Damn it!" Knight exclaimed, his face contorted with rage.
The potential combination of Shaquille O'Neal and Karl Malone on the Lakers threatened to overshadow the Bulls, posing significant losses for Nike. However, Stern's attitude suggested dissatisfaction with both Adidas and the Lakers, indicating the deal might not be approved.
Relieved, Knight still decided to apply media pressure on the league, just in case.
At 10 a.m. on September 10, the league issued a statement: the trade would not be permitted.
The Lakers were disheartened. Adidas, Reebok, and Postmates were equally disappointed.
"This damn deal has ruined our team. Sponsors should stay out of league affairs; they're destroying the NBA," Jazz head coach Jerry Sloan declared at a press conference, directly criticizing Adidas.
Despite the deal's collapse, as Sloan noted, the Jazz couldn't turn back. Malone was now seen as a traitor by Utah fans and had been officially placed on the trading block by management.
The release of the "Black and White Devils" sparked a frenzy among teams across the league.
Allen Iverson had demonstrated his prowess since his rookie season. After two years of development and rigorous offseason training, his performance had significantly improved. His scoring efficiency surpassed previous seasons, solidifying his role as the 76ers' cornerstone.
Last season, the management traded Jerry Stackhouse, who competed with Iverson for ball control, to the Pistons in exchange for defensive stalwart Theo Ratliff, enhancing the team's strength.
However, the overall performance still fell short, and the team missed the playoffs, leaving Iverson disheartened.
This season, under immense pressure from Zhao Dong's dominance, he intensified his training regimen.
Upon hearing the league's decision to block Malone's move to the Lakers, Iverson saw a glimmer of hope.
With Malone and Ratliff anchoring the interior, the team's strength would elevate significantly, potentially transforming them into championship contenders.
Moreover, Malone didn't demand the ball and possessed superior pick-and-roll capabilities compared to John Stockton. Their partnership could thrive on either penetration or pick-and-roll strategies.
Eager, he immediately called his uncle and agent, Gary Moore, to share his idea.
"You want the team to trade for Malone?" Gary was initially surprised but soon nodded in agreement.
The duo promptly arranged a meeting with General Manager Ed Wade.
"Allen, the team is already considering this trade. Acquiring Malone would undoubtedly elevate us to playoff or even championship contention," Ed Wade said with a smile.
"That's fantastic!" Iverson exclaimed.
He then inquired, "Ed, what are the chances of this deal happening?"
Ed Wade responded seriously, "Allen, the Jazz are seeking at least two lottery first-round picks..."
"What can we do then?" Iverson asked anxiously.
He was convinced that acquiring Malone would secure a playoff spot in the upcoming season. However, without lottery picks to offer, the trade seemed unattainable—a vicious cycle.
"If we get Karl Malone, there's no way we're keeping even one lottery pick, let alone two," Ed Wade muttered, rubbing his temples. "This trade's gonna take some serious maneuvering—probably a multi-team deal or we'll have to scoop up two lottery picks first, then flip 'em to Utah."
"Let's do it then," Iverson said, eyes gleaming. "I'm hyped already."
Ed gave a tired smile. "You realize that means our current squad's gettin' blown up, right? We'll have to tear this whole thing down just to get those picks."
"But the Mailman's worth it, ain't he?" Iverson fired back without hesitation.
After AI left his office, Ed Wade sat down and got to work. If he wanted those picks, he had to move fast—and smart.
Right now, their most valuable trade chip was Derrick Coleman. Former No. 1 pick back in '90, the dude once dunked over the O'Neal himself. But ever since that brutal injury in '95, his game had slid. Bad attitude, zero discipline—he'd already asked out.
The timing was perfect. The Lakers-Jazz trade talks had already leaked, and word on the street was the Lakers were also dealing with the Hornets. Ed figured: if Charlotte's shopping their picks, maybe Philly can bite too.
He dialed them up fast—offering Coleman for the Hornets' unprotected 1999 and 2000 first-round picks.
But the Hornets shot him down.
With the Malone deal going public and the league weighing in, Charlotte's front office started thinking bigger: Why let the Lakers get Malone? Why not us?
So they called the Jazz directly, hoping to pull the rug out from under LA.
"Hey Karl, you've been here over a decade now," Jazz GM Tim said into the phone. "We just got a call from the Hornets. They want to trade for you. It's your call, man. You down?"
Honestly, Tim wasn't crazy about the idea. The Hornets weren't a lock for the playoffs. If they made it, that lottery pick they'd use as trade bait loses its value—screwing up their whole angle. What Tim really wanted was what the Lakers were offering: a third team that wouldn't make the playoffs supplying the lottery pick, with Malone headed to a contender.
But that was wishful thinking now that everyone knew the play.
Still, he had to ask.
"No thanks," Malone said bluntly. "I ain't goin' to Charlotte. I want a ring, Tim. I'm only leaving for a real shot at the title. Otherwise, I'm stayin'."
Tim exhaled in relief. That made things easier.
"Alright then," he replied, hanging up and calling back the Hornets to shut it down.
Denied by Utah, the Hornets quickly pivoted. They still needed a reliable big man, and Coleman—despite his flaws—had put up 17.6 points and 9.9 boards last season. That was enough to push them into playoff territory in the East.
Plus, scouting reports said the next two draft classes were weak. So they figured: screw it. Use the same picks the Lakers were gonna use—'99 unprotected, '00 top-5 protected—and swing a deal with the Philly Team.
The trade got done fast.
Now, Ed Wade had what he needed.
He called up the Jazz and laid out the exact same package the Lakers had offered. No frills, no tweaks.
The Jazz agreed immediately.
Deal locked.
Ed then called up the Mailman to give him the heads-up. It wasn't about respect. It was just business.
"You're headin' to Philly next season."
Back in Salt Lake City, Karl Malone picked up his cell.
"Philly?" he repeated, eyebrows raised.
His mind flashed to Allen Iverson—the flashy second-year guard who'd been the face of the hip-hop wave sweeping through the league. While Zhao Dong and the Knicks had stolen the spotlight, AI had carved his own lane, turning heads with his fearless style.
"My salary's only six mil next year," Malone thought. "I'm not eating up cap space. Coleman's gone, so they've got room to add more. Philly's a big market, way bigger than Salt Lake. That squad could be stronger than the Jazz... better odds at knocking out Zhao Dong."
He cracked a rare smile.
"Not bad at all."
In Philadelphia, Iverson was bouncing with excitement.
"Yo! We got him! The Mailman's coming to town!" he shouted, fists clenched.
His uncle—also his agent—tugged him back to Earth.
"Allen, Malone's a superstar. But this team? It's your team. Don't forget that. And don't let him forget it either."
Iverson nodded, already pulling out his phone. He called up Ed Wade.
"Hook me up with Malone's number."
He got it, then hit dial without wasting time.
"Hello, this is Karl Malone."
"Hey Mailman, it's Allen Iverson. Just wanna say—welcome to my team."
Back in Utah, Malone nearly laughed.
A sophomore rookie welcoming me like he's the king of the court?
He scoffed silently. He wasn't Derrick Coleman. He was Karl damn Malone, one of the 50 greatest players ever.
Still, if he wanted to beat Zhao Dong and the Knicks, he needed AI. No time to mess this up.
So he swallowed the annoyance and put on a calm voice.
"Appreciate it, Allen. I'm lookin' forward to teaming up. Here's to a hopeful season."
"Hell yeah," Iverson said, fired up.
They exchanged a few more words and hung up.
Malone tossed his phone on the couch and sighed.
"Damn... how'd I end up as a sidekick to a kid?" he muttered. "The league's gonna roast me for this."
But in Philly, Iverson was grinning from ear to ear.
"Finally, man," he said to himself. "We're makin' the playoffs this year for sure. And Zhao Dong? Yo, I'm comin' for you."
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Check my Pâtreon for advanced chapters
Pâtreon .com/Fanficlord03
Change (â) to (a)
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Discord Link Here:
https://discord.gg/VvcakSux