Kevin Ding was clearly in high spirits. Last Saturday's sports special had sold far beyond the editor-in-chief's expectations, over 18,000 copies, nearly doubling previous sales, and the trend was still upward.
The main reason for this surge? Snoopy.
UCLA had recently defeated Kansas State University and Arizona State University, with Snoopy standing out in both games. For readers who had followed him from the start, it was like seeing a sapling suddenly grow into a towering tree.
Now, Snoopy's reputation in California even surpassed some of the most hyped rookies.
Kevin Ding entered the arena, grinning. "Hey, Snoopy, today, your opponent is the Stanford twins. Ready? I don't want to see you flattened out there.?"
Snoopy widened his eyes. "Kevin, aren't your expectations a bit high? Both of them are projected first-round lottery picks, each over seven feet. You don't really expect me to crush them like I did Pandgrath, do you?"
"Why not, Snoopy? If you dominate them, you'll earn unparalleled attention! This could be your breakout game. Don't you want your name on draft boards? Don't you want to become a millionaire, or even a multi-millionaire?"
Kevin Ding's enthusiasm was almost coaching-like, reminiscent of Holland's approach.
"In these games, I've noticed a serious issue, you've never shown desire to exceed your limits. You do your job: smart positioning, jumps, blocks, rebounds. Good. But I know you can do better."
"Forget your rich-kid identity. Forget your inner sense of superiority. Forget you're an Anderson College top student. When you step on the court, you are just a player. You should fight like a starving beast, clawing and biting for survival. Learn from Russell Westbrook. He's your model!"
His tone was intense, the first time he spoke to Snoopy like this. It was well beyond a journalist's usual role.
Snoopy seemed slightly taken aback, staring at Kevin in surprise.
Gradually calming down, Kevin added softly, "Sorry. I just see you as a friend. I want my friend to be better."
Snoopy smiled, patting his shoulder. "Thanks, Kevin. Thanks for treating me as a friend, and for saying all this."
Snoopy bid farewell to Kevin, who handed him a USB drive. "Here are videos of my three favorite players. I've wanted to give them to you."
Snoopy accepted it and thanked him again.
On the way to the conference room, Snoopy reflected on Kevin's words. He was right: Snoopy had been playing within his comfort zone. Basketball had been more of a game, but a game and a competition were two different things.
Entering the conference room, Snoopy greeted every journalist with a poised smile. Even first-time meetings felt warm, not distant.
From the sidelines, Holland told Kevin, "He has excellent upbringing, broad knowledge, a witty personality, and a smart mind. But he's still a child, pampered by privilege, always carefree, never hungry. That's why it's hard for him to show true aggression on the court… sigh."
Kevin nodded helplessly.
"Wrong. Snoopy is not a spoiled rich kid," came a voice from behind.
Westbrook stepped forward. "I've lived with him for a year. I know him better than anyone. His competitive spirit isn't weaker than mine; his courage exceeds mine. Back when Darren Collison caused trouble in the dorm, only he dared to stand up, even at 1.7 meters tall."
"Snoopy just hasn't met the person to ignite his fury. When that moment comes, you'll see his aggression. He's always been a stealthy warrior, unafraid to tussle with tanks!"