Two professionals sat down, and with almost no wasted words, they struck a deal.
Snoopy would partner with Daphne to launch a sports management agency.
The company's structure was unconventional. When managing the "Snoopy" brand, profits would be split 90–10, with Snoopy taking 90% and Daphne 10%. For future athletes they signed, profits would flip to 70–30, with Daphne taking 70% and Snoopy 30%. As for NBA contracts, they'd take the industry-standard agent commission—except for Snoopy's own deals, which would be exempt. It was essentially a partnership model.
Put simply, in the short term, Snoopy saw Daphne as his professional assistant. Daphne, on the other hand, had her eyes on the long game—she wasn't trying to make money from Snoopy. She wanted to use him as a launchpad to build a major sports agency that could one day rival CAA, Rich Sports, or WMG.
Both were very satisfied with the arrangement.
That evening, Daphne helped Snoopy host his first-ever press conference.
At the event, Snoopy officially announced he would enter the 2008 NBA Draft.
Once again, he emphasized:
"The Orange County Chronicle report was correct. I am a point guard!"
That line made the American reporters burst out laughing.
They had never seen a so-called point guard who spent games wrestling centers in the paint.
Snoopy didn't bother defending himself.
Daphne had already explained from both a media and business perspective: the more he insisted he was a point guard, the stronger the marketing hook. Plus, guards tend to attract more sponsorships, especially from shoe brands.
That very night, Daphne told Snoopy she had already received endorsement offers from Jordan Brand, Nike, and Reebok.
Jordan Brand: $300,000 per year
Nike: $500,000 per year
Reebok: $700,000 per year
But Daphne immediately ruled out Reebok—it was practically bankrupt, and rumors said Adidas was already finalizing an acquisition.
Jordan Brand was also crossed off—"too cheap, no sincerity."
That left only Nike.
"Five hundred thousand dollars is too low," Snoopy frowned. "I heard Derrick Rose's Adidas deal is worth over ten million a year, and Nike's paying Westbrook over four million annually."
Daphne paused, then explained,
"I'm not sure about Westbrook's exact terms, but Rose's deal includes performance triggers—like number of starts, All-Rookie selection, All-Star appearance, leading his team to the playoffs, and so on."
"So it's basically a guaranteed minimum contract?" Snoopy asked.
"Exactly," Daphne nodded. "A base deal with performance bonuses."
"Then that's what I want too," Snoopy said firmly. "The higher the bonus triggers, the better."
"Alright," Daphne smiled. "I'll negotiate that. But before we do, we need to set up our company—registered in the Virgin Islands. We'll minimize taxes as much as possible."
"You handle it," Snoopy nodded. "And make sure to line up plenty of endorsement deals quickly. I'll need them as collateral for a bank loan."
"Collateral loan? What for?" Daphne asked.
Snoopy didn't answer directly. "Personal reasons," he said.
The next morning, Snoopy received a call from his father. He'd seen the news and was beaming with pride.
Hearing his father's cheerful tone, Snoopy felt a pang of sadness.
If Dad's being this supportive about basketball, he thought, something must be wrong.
After all, hadn't he always wanted me to become a Wall Street executive?
"Dad," Snoopy said, "I'm about to be an NBA player. I'll be earning millions of dollars a year — maybe more. Tell me, how big is your funding gap? I'll find a way to help."
His father laughed heartily over the phone.
"Hahaha! That's my boy! When I was your age, I was still hauling bricks on a construction site! Don't worry about me, it's just a few tens of millions — I can sort that out with a couple of calls. Don't listen to the rumors. The land I bought in NYC a few years ago is skyrocketing now! You just focus on becoming the next Michael Jordan!"
Snoopy listened quietly, mentally noting the "few tens of millions."
He's pretending everything's fine, Snoopy thought. Otherwise, why would Mom go back into show business? And why isn't he scolding me for playing basketball? That's not like him at all.
I need at least 100 million ready, he decided, clenching his fists.
After a bit more small talk, they hung up.
Later that morning, Snoopy got a call from Edward, the independent NBA scout handling his athletic career.
Edward informed him that the Orlando training camp had officially invited him for mid-May — where numerous team scouts would be watching. Top prospects would then receive individual team tryout invitations, leading up to the NBA Draft itself.
He also added,
"The Golden State Warriors' GM called me. Apparently, Coach Don Nelson really likes you. Expect an official workout invitation once their season ends."
Snoopy nodded.
Edward would handle all NBA-related negotiations — he had extensive contacts in the scouting world.
All commercial affairs were left to Daphne.
With both of them being top professionals, Snoopy's new team was now fully equipped — and dangerously competitive.