On Monday afternoon, Coach Ben Holland informed Doug that the NCAA had officially approved his player registration. He was now, at last, a full-fledged member of the UCLA Bruins.
Kevin Love and Russell Westbrook erupted with cheers at the news.
Collison's clique looked far less enthusiastic, but under Holland's stare they gave a halfhearted clap or two.
Now that his registration was official, Doug had to choose a jersey number quickly—or he wouldn't be eligible for Tuesday's game.
He first picked No. 8.
But Holland shook his head. "In the NCAA, 6, 7, 8, and 9 are reserved for referees. You can choose from 0–5, 10–15, 20–25, 30–35, 40–45, and 50–55. Plus 0 and 00."
"Then 10," Doug decided.
Holland checked the roster, confirmed it was available, and rushed the request through. The sponsor whipped up the uniform in record time—less than ninety minutes later, Doug was holding a No. 10 jersey with his name stitched on the back.
Slipping it on, he felt an unexpected surge of belonging: from now on, he would fight for UCLA's honor.
USC and UCLA both played in the Pac-10, and the rivalry was fierce—crosstown enemies, in fact.
Historically, UCLA's pedigree was far greater.
But in recent years USC had risen sharply. Just last season, they had swept the Bruins 2–0. Everyone in Westwood had been holding their breath since, waiting for Tuesday to unleash it all.
…
"Coach, are you insane?"
That night, during the closed-door staff meeting, assistant coach Cole nearly shouted at Holland's lineup decision. "Starting Russell at point guard, fine. But making Snoopy the starting power forward? That's reckless. He can't even dunk. Offensively he's a black hole—we'll basically be playing 4-on-5."
"That's why I'm starting him with Kevin Love and Russell Westbrook, plus shooter Vincent and Jrue Holiday. Offense won't be a problem," Holland said confidently.
"But Snoopy doesn't even know our system," Cole pressed.
"His feel for positioning is excellent. A guy who gets into Anderson Business School on a full ride will pick up our schemes fast. And what he needs most now is playing time."
Holland cut him off: "Enough. My decision is final."
As head coach, he had to assert authority, or the debate would never end.
"What about Darren and Luc? They've both been starters. Benching them suddenly—how do you think they'll take it?" Cole argued.
"I'll talk to them. They need to understand that every good team thrives on competition. Without it, we won't improve."
With that, Holland steered the meeting back to tactics.
Against USC, both sides knew each other inside and out—they met twice a year in conference play.
This time, though, UCLA had a new wildcard. Doug wasn't just on the roster; Holland was handing him a starting spot. That kind of debut was normally reserved for five-star recruits.
In Holland's game plan, Doug's role was massive: sole anchor of the paint, no help defenders assigned. The entire rim protection responsibility was his.
Even Nolan, who liked Doug, had doubts.
After the meeting, he pulled Holland aside. "I know you want Snoopy to gain experience. Pressure can accelerate growth. But don't you think this burden is too heavy? It's his very first official game. Yes, his defensive talent is obvious, but if he fails? What if his confidence shatters? He might lose his love for basketball entirely."
Nolan's concern was genuine. He wasn't against starting Doug—but against throwing the rookie straight into the fire as defensive cornerstone.
Holland, however, was resolute. "Listen, Nolan. If we want to win the NCAA championship this year, we need to stockpile chips now, before March. Memphis, Kentucky, North Carolina, Duke, Kansas… the heavyweights won't give us time to grow. And remember, Kevin and Darren are gone after this season. Jrue, Russell, even Luc might declare too. We have to prepare immediately.
"Snoopy is rare. I've read his file—his family's wealthy, he has no reason to jump to the NBA early. So for this year and the next two, we must give him responsibility. Even if he struggles, even if he never becomes a five-star, as long as he grows into a defensive anchor, we succeed."
The reasoning was solid.
Still, Nolan couldn't shake the feeling: this was forcing the seedling to grow, and unfair to Snoopy who had just stepped onto the court.
Wasn't it too much to ask a newcomer to hold the entire paint alone?