To be honest, Leon Bob's "scientific training" wasn't all that scientific, but his massage skills were top-notch.
After practice, he worked on Doug for nearly an hour and a half.
Doug's body was like iron rebar—hard, unyielding, and exhausting to treat. By the end, Leon Bob was drenched in sweat. He complained under his breath, but his hands never stopped moving.
When it was over, Doug felt his muscles loosen, his bones lighter, his whole body relieved.
As Doug was leaving the therapy room, Leon Bob half-joked, half-serious: "Snoopy, you know what? I've never worked this hard on my own wife. So you better make it to the NBA. That's the only way my so-called scientific training will have the advertisement value it deserves."
NBA?
On the way back to the dorms, Doug couldn't stop thinking about it.
Sure, he watched the NBA sometimes, but he had never once imagined himself actually playing there. Yet after Leon Bob's words, something inside him itched.
Especially after those two monster blocks that afternoon—the thrill of ripping someone out of the sky was unforgettable. He loved that sensation of pulling a man down from the clouds.
Then he shook his head. "Forget it. If my dad finds out I want to play pro basketball, he'll break my legs."
Still thinking, he walked past Powell Library—when a familiar voice called out:
"Hey, Doug, is that you?"
Turning, Jaylen, waving. Doug grinned and hurried over.
"Haven't seen you in two months—you've shot up, and… you even look better now," Jaylen said in surprise. Then he teased, "Must be dating a girl, huh? Improved diet?"
Doug quickly shook his head. "No, no. You know me, I'm not that forward with girls."
"Ha! Then you need to be," Jaylen laughed. "Girls love funny, easygoing guys. Me? I've already got a body count in the triple digits."
Doug just smiled.
Then Jaylen asked, "Are you free Wednesday night?"
"Wednesday?" Doug frowned.
"Yeah. We're throwing an early Feb. 14 party—lots of big names coming. It's all being hosted by the rich guy, Hector—you know who that is."
Doug usually avoided the student social scene. In his eyes, too many were there for anything but studying. They chased clout, circled endlessly in little social games, and treated academics like an afterthought. That attitude annoyed him.
But this time he nodded. "I'll call you Wednesday. If I'm free, I'll come celebrate."
"Deal. And I'll introduce you to some white girls," Jaylen winked before walking off.
Doug could only shake his head, smiling.
Back at the dorm, he found Darren Collison had already moved out.
"Thank God, finally some peace," Kevin Love said, high-fiving Doug. "Now it's just us. We can be the Three Musketeers of UCLA."
"Hey, Musketeers! What are you waiting for? Get in World of Warcraft!"
That was Westbrook yelling from his computer.
Doug and Love jumped online, teaming up for a dungeon run.
"Snoopy, your two blocks this afternoon were insane," Love said as he fought a boss. "I've never seen Collison look so rattled. Honestly, I can't wait for Tuesday."
"Last season, USC's forward Taj Gibson blocked me three times in two games. On Tuesday, you've gotta help me get those back. Otherwise, no filet mignon deliveries from home for you."
Love's athleticism was decent, but nowhere near Gibson's explosive power. If he wanted revenge, Doug was his only hope.
Doug, cautious as always, wouldn't make promises without knowing his opponent.
So after the raid, he opened Google and searched Gibson's highlights.
For nearly an hour he studied. Taj Gibson was USC's star forward: explosive, mobile, strong on both ends.
Finally, Doug leaned back, face serious. "If I get enough playing time, I can block him twice. But a third time? Almost impossible."
Doug never bragged.
So when Love and Westbrook heard that, they were stunned.
Taj Gibson—the heart of USC's frontcourt, a surefire future NBA player despite being 23 already. Any team would take him in the first round.
And here was Snoopy, calmly saying: Give me time, I'll stuff him twice in one game.
What kind of confidence was that?