When Russell Westbrook hung on the rim and roared, the haze that had loomed over the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena finally began to lift.
The crowd erupted, chanting the names of both Westbrook and Snoopy.
At first the cheers were chaotic, a jumble of syllables and half-formed shouts, but soon the fans dropped the tongue-twisters "Russell" and "Westbrook," and instead unified around the smoothest, easiest name to yell:
"Snoopy! Snoopy! Snoopy!"
One hundred and ten thousand voices joined in unison. The Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena turned into a roaring storm of sound. After so long under pressure, the home fans finally tasted hope.
Beep!
In the middle of the thunderous noise, Kansas coach Bill Self signaled for a timeout.
UCLA's momentum was peaking; if he didn't stop the run now, the Jayhawks risked being swept away by a sudden surge.
"Why didn't that idiot Ben Howland sub Snoopy in earlier!?"
Bill Walton bellowed from the ESPN commentary booth.
His heart, dead ash moments ago, was suddenly revived by Snoopy's ferocious block.
His voice rose with excitement, energy flooding back into his tone.
"Snoopy has completely taken over the defense!
When he's on the floor, UCLA's offense runs smoother too, even that firecracker Westbrook is playing under control!"
Walton was in full praise mode now.
"Snoopy's just a miniature version of me!
I promised to teach him some post footwork last time, but I forgot. Tonight, I'm inviting him over to my house. I'll teach him my entire set of offensive and defensive moves."
On the sidelines, NBA scouts and general managers leaned toward one another, murmuring.
The defensive footwork Snoopy had just displayed shattered their preconceptions. They had pegged him as a slow-footed undersized center, but that block proved he was quicker than Darrell Arthur. His game-saving block on Derrick Rose last round hadn't been a fluke.
Mobility is a major checkbox in NBA scouting reports, especially for big men in the modern, fast-paced game.
"Hey, Steve, we should bring him to Phoenix,"
Shaquille O'Neal said, wrapping an arm around Dwyane Wade's shoulders and calling over to Steve Nash, who sat two seats down.
Nash was in mid-conversation with Kobe Bryant, they'd been discussing Snoopy's off-ball screen that freed up Westbrook for his dunk. Kobe admired the play, saying a big man should always have that kind of selfless awareness.
He told Nash, "Stoudemire would love a 'point guard' like that, not the kind he's used to."
"Absolutely," Nash nodded to Shaq.
"That kind of defensive versatility is exactly what we need."
Shaq grinned.
"Then Phoenix will have three point guards."
LeBron James, seated between them, blinked in confusion.
He wasn't one for sports gossip.
"Three point guards? What do you mean?" he asked Wade.
Wade chuckled and explained the inside joke.
The 2008 version of LeBron's humor hadn't yet caught up to his hairline. Still basking in Tim Duncan's "blessing" from the previous year, he thought deeply, then said earnestly:
"That kid really does have point guard potential. That assist earlier showed incredible floor vision."
Wade could only laugh helplessly. He turned to his old teammate and said, "Shaq, maybe you should go to Cleveland for two years, LeBron seriously needs help with his sense of humor."
Shaq's grin widened.
"No way. Phoenix needs me. Amare needs me. I'll save him after I win another championship."
The VIP seats were alive with laughter and banter. Cameras from NBC and ABC swung toward the cluster of NBA stars, hoping to capture their interactions for a ratings boost.
TNT, however, took a different route. Their cameras locked onto the UCLA bench, microphones fully open.
That gamble paid off, they got the first exclusive scoop.
Snoopy leaned toward Coach Ben Howland and said calmly:
"Within three steps, I can match the speed of most big men. So if Darrell Arthur keeps guarding me, he'll still struggle to find any consistent offensive rhythm."
Howland nodded, feeling a flicker of confidence returning.
Then he turned toward his players and realized he had no idea what to say.
Since Kevin Love exit, he had completely lost his grip on the team. When the deficit had grown to thirteen and their star left the floor, he'd mentally checked out, already thinking about next season. In his mind, finishing as runner-up this year would have been good enough.
But when he'd given up hope, Snoopy had stepped forward. He had taken command without hesitation, and every player on the court had fallen in line behind him.
Now Howland felt something strange, something absurd: Am I… being replaced by Snoopy?
That feeling was familiar to some NBA coaches. In the league, superstar players often held more authority than their head coaches. At critical moments, many coaches willingly handed over control to their "Chosen One" to decide the game.
But this was college basketball. Here, the head coach was supposed to be the authority. So why did Snoopy's words carry more weight? He wasn't even a superstar. He couldn't even shoot!
Howland couldn't understand it.
"After tonight, Snoopy's draft stock is going to skyrocket, he might even break into the lottery picks," commentator Earl Johnson declared.
"He's shown true locker-room leadership. When the game hit rock bottom, everyone chose to trust and follow him. That's genuine charisma. And his defensive footwork has clearly improved.
In today's NBA, where defensive bigs are in short supply, plenty of teams will take a chance on him."
"No, Earl, that's a bit too optimistic," said Kenny Smith, keeping his tone cool.
"What we've seen so far isn't enough for lottery range. Remember, tons of NCAA defensive standouts come into the NBA and instantly look lost, getting toyed with by elite wings."
"Maybe," Charles Barkley interjected, "But Snoopy's got a golden opportunity right in front of him. Kansas has two completely different types of bigs. If Snoopy can guard both the stretch forwards, Darrell Arthur and Darnell Jackson, and contain the traditional posts, Cole Aldrich and Sasha Kaun, he'll definitely be a lottery pick this year."
Just as Barkley finished
Beep!
The whistle blew.
Kansas made a substitution.
No. 45, Cole Aldrich, checked in.
A freshman, 6'11" tall, 256 pounds, 7'5" wingspan. He hadn't seen much playing time in the regular season, but in the Final Four matchup against North Carolina, he'd stepped up for senior Sasha Kaun, posting 9 points, 8 rebounds, and 4 blocks, the key to their victory.
As Snoopy watched Aldrich and Arthur walk onto the court together, he knew, his real test had finally begun.