Jerryd Bayless brought the ball across half court and passed it to O.J. Mayo again.
But this time, Mayo didn't follow through on what he had promised. Instead of keeping the ball, he swung it to Brandon Rush beyond the three-point line. Rush used nimble footwork to shake off Donte Greene's defense, but stopped short of entering the paint, pulling up for a mid-range jumper.
Even though Brook Lopez's massive frame was screening for him inside, Rush still didn't want to directly challenge Snoopy. Who knew where that mad dog would suddenly come flying out from, blotting out the sky? He'd seen it enough times in the NCAA championship.
On the other end, Derrick Rose easily shredded Jerryd Bayless's defense, sliced into the paint, and kicked the ball back out to Kevin Love who buried the jumper.
Time kept ticking away as the two sides went back and forth, locked in a tight contest.
O.J. Mayo kept fulfilling every promise he'd made in the locker room, which allowed the White Team's offense to run remarkably smooth, with their scoring spread evenly across the board.
The Red Team, by contrast, was starting to look disjointed. Rose and Westbrook's chemistry wasn't quite there yet, and both tended to attack on their own.
Still, thanks to the two guards' overwhelming ability to break down defenses and Kevin Love's reliable mid-range game, the Red Team stayed close. The score climbed in alternating bursts, neither side gaining real separation.
As the 20-minute scrimmage window shrank, Snoopy grew increasingly anxious.
He was just about to settle down Rose and Westbrook when. swish! O.J. Mayo drilled a deep three.
38–34.
The lead increased ballooned to four.
The GMs on the sideline applauded. Judging from this scrimmage alone, Mayo was playing an excellent game not only unselfish, but repeatedly stepping up with killer instinct in key moments.
"He's a solid combo guard," Dwyane Wade commented, offering a casual recommendation to Pat Riley. The two had been training together in Florida and developed a close relationship. Wade wanted to play with Mayo.
Pat Riley, however, said nothing.
Seeing Mayo lift his arms in celebration, Russell Westbrook immediately demanded the ball from Donte Greene. He couldn't wait to push the fast break.
The current draft outlook had Michael Beasley and Derrick Rose locked into the first two spots.
But the battle for No. 3 was crowded, Westbrook and Mayo both had strong cases, and even Kevin Love had a shot.
Westbrook had discussed things with his agent team. Sure, the Seattle Sonics were a promising young squad, but Kevin Durant had already cemented himself as the franchise star, Westbrook going there would mean becoming his sidekick.
Minnesota, though… That was different. A team in total rebuild, no established pecking order. Competition was thin. Small market, true, but as the No. 3 pick, he'd get unlimited shot attempts.
Play out the rookie deal, sign a max, return to L.A., very possible.
So when he saw Mayo drawing cheers, a wave of urgency surged up inside him. He attacked the front court at full speed, then without hesitation cut hard into the paint, exploding upward for a violent dunk.
But he misjudged Anthony Randolph's speed. Randolph rocketed up behind him and smacked the ball out of bounds with a thunderous block.
Finally getting his revenge, Randolph let out a loud, cathartic roar, pounding his chest.
Snoopy walked over and grabbed Westbrook by the head.
"Don't get reckless. Stay calm. Next play, give the ball to me. Watch the baseline, I'll set you up for a dunk."
Westbrook, born wild and fearless, nonetheless listened.
Tweet! Tweet!
Timeout.
Both teams made substitutions, after all, this was a showcase. Everyone deserved minutes.
The White Team subbed out Brook Lopez and Anthony Randolph, putting in J.J. Hickson and Robin Lopez.
The Red Team swapped out Kevin Love and Donte Greene for Joe Crawford and Serge Ibaka.
"With that substitution, the Red Team's shooting just got worse," Lakers GM Mitch Kupchak murmured.
"They're probably going to lose."
Grizzlies GM Chris Wallace nodded, agreeing completely.
"Yeah. Their two point guards both need the ball to shine, and they overlap stylistically. Neither has consistent outside shooting, they're both heavily dependent on slashing. And neither big man can create his own offense. Their scoring options are about to get extremely limited."
"We should start focusing on Hickson and Robin Lopez's defensive performance," Kupchak added.
"Yeah," Wallace agreed.
Most of the other GMs held the same view.
But Mavs GM Donnie Nelson leaned toward Mark Cuban and whispered:
"Snoopy can facilitate. I think he's about to take over the ball."
Take over the ball?
Cuban frowned. Would Derrick Rose and Westbrook even listen to him?
He had always been skeptical of Snoopy. Nelson had begged him multiple times to trade cash for a late-lottery pick, insisting that UCLA's Snoopy was a hidden gem worth investing in.
But Cuban remained doubtful. He was one of the most China-friendly owners in the league but he simply didn't believe a sub-6'4" player could survive as an interior big man.
Sure, Snoopy had two spectacular blocks today, and he had successfully held ground against Brook Lopez a couple of times. But Lopez had also hit two shots right in his face.
Overall? Decent. NBA-capable. But not lottery-worthy.
That was Cuban's perspective.
Back on the court, the Red Team inbounded the ball. Ibaka passed it in from the baseline straight to his "boss."
Snoopy caught the ball at the free-throw line. Robin Lopez quickly stepped up to guard him.
"We meet again."
He tried to talk some trash. But Snoopy didn't give him the chance. He unleashed a lightning-quick front-cut move, his right hand slicing across the ball in a blur as it slipped past Lopez's reach, while his left knee and lower leg coordinated in perfect harmony to shred the defense.
Robin Lopez barely had time to blink before Snoopy was already gone. He was still stuck in the mindset of their previous matchup, assuming Snoopy was slow like before. He was wrong.
By the time he clumsily turned around, Snoopy had already stormed into the paint. As he rose into a shooting motion, J.J. Hickson leapt at him like a startled deer but then came the thunder.
Westbrook blasted in from the baseline corner like a bolt of lightning. O.J. Mayo, trailing behind, had zero chance of catching him, he could only stop at the low block and look up helplessly as Westbrook took flight, received Snoopy's perfect pass…
BOOM!
A ferocious hammer dunk.
Hickson turned around just in time to see his own rim still shaking violently.
"Beautiful!"
Westbrook slapped hands with Snoopy.
36–38.
"Get the stop!"
Snoopy clapped, shouting commands like a true captain.
"So he is actually a point guard?"
Celtics GM Danny Ainge blurted the same question every GM had been thinking since the dunk.
"His drives are weird."
Dwyane Wade pointed out from a technical standpoint.
"It's like he uses only his lower legs and his long arms. His hands cover huge distances, but his footwork is short, still incredibly fast. Bigs can't stay in front of him."
Only bigs?
Pat Riley raised an eyebrow.
He had been the first GM to believe Snoopy was a point guard.
And he thought Snoopy perfectly fit the basketball model he predicted a decade earlier, a league dominated by five interchangeable forwards, with less rigid positions, lower height, and higher speed.
Everyone else saw Snoopy as someone who could play neither inside nor outside. Riley saw infinite potential.
Just like the drive and pass they'd witnessed minutes ago.
Meanwhile, O.J. Mayo clearly didn't possess "eyes that appreciate Snoopy." Receiving Bayless's pass, he immediately called Robin Lopez up for a screen.
He'd already shown off the deep three last possession.
Now it was time to show everyone his explosive vertical.