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The whistle blew!
As Snoopy stepped onto the court, a wave of cheers and screams swept through Staples Center.
Clearly, everyone wanted to see him take the floor and give the arrogant Joey Dorsey a taste of his own medicine , just like Greg Oden had done the year before.
Of course, that was just wishful thinking.
Anyone who actually understood basketball knew there was a big gap between the two.
But Miley Cyrus didn't watch basketball. She had no idea how much shorter Snoopy's wingspan was, or how much lighter he was compared to Joey Dorsey.
All she knew was: her man, even if only "technically" her man, couldn't back down from a challenge.
"Snoopy, go! Teach that stupid number 3 a lesson!"
She stood up and shouted at the top of her lungs.
Her radiant presence courtside instantly drew the cameras.
Within seconds, her face appeared on the jumbotron , and the arena erupted. It seemed the rumors about Snoopy and the Disney princess were now officially confirmed.
"Kid, you know what I hate most?" "People copying my game, and guys who bring their girlfriends courtside to show off."
Joey Dorsey glared at Snoopy, his tone dripping with arrogance.
"I don't care if your girlfriend's some kind of pop star. I'm gonna beat you down so bad you'll be picking up your teeth off the floor. I'll make sure she sees what a real man looks like."
Snoopy lifted his head and met Dorsey's stare.
"You have really pissed me off. I'll completely destroy you."
Just as he was about to bark back, Snoopy was already on the move.
He cut to the left elbow, and Westbrook fed him the ball.
Dorsey hesitated for half a second, then lunged forward to steal, BANG!
Snoopy's dribble was lightning-fast. The moment Dorsey reached out, Snoopy hit a brutal crossover, slicing past him cleanly. One long stride later, he'd broken through the defense.
Dorsey spun around, but his footwork wasn't quick enough. Small forward Chris Douglas-Roberts scrambled over to help.
He thought he was fast, but before he could even set his feet, Snoopy lofted the ball high into the paint.
And then, BOOM!
Luc Mbah a Moute exploded upward and slammed it home! The timing was perfect, Snoopy's pass and Mbah a Moute's leap aligned like choreography.
With Memphis's defense collapsed, the alley-oop detonated the crowd. The fans at Staples went wild, and Mbah a Moute fanned his arms toward the stands, hyping them up.
Meanwhile, Snoopy calmly walked over to Joey Dorsey. He pointed at his temple and said,
"The strength of a man comes from here. The brain's a wonderful thing. I hope you grow one someday."
Dorsey just stood there, his muscles flexing as he tried to think. How could brains have anything to do with strength?
In the TNT booth, Earl Johnson raised an eyebrow.
"Wait a second, this kid's actually a point guard?"
"A pretty advanced one," Kenny Smith added in surprise.
"If that pass wasn't a fluke, then he really does deserve to be called a point guard."
"Even Derrick Rose," he continued, "still relies mostly on collapsing defenses with his drives before dishing out. But that assist just now, that was initiating the offense through vision. He wasn't reacting, he was directing the play, leading Mbah a Moute's route. That's elite-level command."
"So what position is he playing now?" Barkley scoffed.
Snoopy answered with his actions: center.
He followed Joey Dorsey into the paint. Dorsey was a pure dunker, completely reliant on others to feed him the ball.
So Snoopy didn't wrestle with him for position. He shadowed him instead.
At the top of the key, Derrick Rose and Roberts executed a pick-and-roll. Roberts took the handoff and attacked the paint. Snoopy stepped away from Dorsey, anticipating the play.
The 6'7" Roberts drove hard to the rim, hesitated with a crossover mid-air, but Snoopy didn't bite.
He turned slightly, predicting the pass , and sure enough, Roberts dropped it off to Dorsey under the basket.
Dorsey caught the ball and sprang up like a loaded cannon, muscles coiled to destroy the rim.
He wanted to tear it down, to show the crowd that he, not Snoopy, was the real man.
But just as he reached the apex of his jump,
A massive hand came out of nowhere.
SMACK!
It pressed straight down on the ball from above.
Dorsey felt a shocking force slam through his arms. He tried to muscle through, veins bulging, desperate to overpower it, but his body began to sink instead.
"AHHH!"
He roared, ripping the ball free , but both feet had already hit the floor.
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The referee blew the whistle: jump ball!
Staples Center exploded:
"Snoopy! Snoopy! Snoopy!"
It wasn't a full block, but it didn't matter, Snoopy had won the possession battle. He'd stopped a guaranteed dunk without committing a foul.
The once-cocky Joey Dorsey had been literally forced back to the ground. His pre-rehearsed taunt died in his throat.
In the stands, Miley looked puzzled.
"Why's everyone cheering? Snoopy didn't even score."
She really didn't get basketball.
Five seats away, Kobe Bryant watched with sharp eyes.
"Dorsey's stronger," he murmured, "but Snoopy's quicker off the ground, better burst, better lift."
He smiled faintly.
"Memphis is gonna lose this jump ball."