Five years. $88.88 million.
The number shook the entire basketball world—and even the global sports scene.
On average, it made this rookie's endorsement deal the largest in basketball history outside of Michael Jordan's.
For reference—LeBron James' Nike deal was $90 million over seven years. Last year's second overall pick, Kevin Durant, got $60 million over seven years. Even Kobe Bryant, Nike's flagship star, made only around $14–16 million annually including shoe royalties.
But this rookie? He somehow landed nearly $18 million a year.
At the press conference, reporters immediately pounced on Nike's CEO, Phil Knight:
"On what basis did you offer Snoopy the highest endorsement deal in basketball history? He's an inside player—he wasn't even projected in the lottery!"
Knight didn't clarify that it was a non-guaranteed contract. He just calmly replied:
"First, Snoopy is a point guard. Second, his market potential is the most expansive in today's league. Finally, we firmly believe our partnership with him will be mutually beneficial."
ESPN roasted him for it, calling him senile and delusional—
"Since when is Snoopy a point guard? Have you ever seen a point guard shove opposing centers under the rim? Can he even dribble coast-to-coast? Being short doesn't automatically make you a floor general. Charles Barkley never claimed to be a point guard either!"
Their attack was relentless. ESPN accused Nike of "destabilizing the endorsement market":
"While lottery rookies can barely get a million-dollar deal, Nike just threw a king's ransom at a center projected in the 20s. This insults every other rookie's pride and undermines Nike's credibility with its existing stars."
They went further:
"Nike is wildly overestimating Snoopy's influence. Just because his single charted in Billboard's Top 10 doesn't mean he has a sports audience. Those listeners don't even play basketball! That hit was mainly because of Miley Cyrus."
When ESPN, the biggest sports media voice in North America, attacks, others follow.
NBC, ABC, Time Warner, every outlet—from television to print to online—all echoed the same verdict:
"Stupid."
But from a marketing standpoint, Nike's plan was brilliant.
They spent almost zero on advertising and made the entire planet talk about their brand's wealth and confidence.
At the same time, Snoopy's name spread worldwide:
"That lucky kid who got $88.88 million from Nike."
"An amazing deal," Knight said three days later at a private gala in Portland.
He told investors and board members:
"In truth, we only spent $4.88 million. And if Snoopy ever triggers the performance bonuses, it means he's truly special—and we'll still profit."
Snoopy saw it similarly.
The day after signing, he met with Citibank executives—arranged by Professor Nielsen.
Using his Nike deal plus his Gucci fragrance and KFC sponsorships as collateral, Snoopy secured a $20 million loan, to be repaid over seven years.
It meant annual payments near $5 million, at steep interest.
But Citibank never doubted his ability to repay.
They'd done their homework on his background but never brought it up. To them, he was another wealthy heir trying to make it on his own—a type they knew well.
Usually, those rich kids burned through the cash fast—then one call to Daddy, and the bank got its money back.
Frank Bluto, the banker, had seen it countless times.
So after signing, they joked about each other's names and agreed that dogs are man's best friend.
When the $20 million hit his domestic account, Snoopy's mind turned homeward.
Before leaving, though, he had a very passionate reunion with Jennifer, freshly back from filming.
She complained Disney had gone too far, fuming about Miley Cyrus' "territory-stealing" on-screen kiss—and vowed to reclaim her status as the real girlfriend in a more public setting.
After Snoopy swore three times that nothing ever happened with Miley, they… reconciled.
From April 29th evening until April 30th morning.
Then slept the whole day.
Later, during a quiet moment, Snoopy invited her to meet his parents back home.
Jennifer hesitated—even with seven days off ahead, she wanted two for rest and the rest for auditions.
Snoopy only smiled helplessly and said he understood.
So, on May 1st, Snoopy boarded a flight home with Daphne.
Throughout the long journey, excitement kept him wide awake. He pictured his parents' faces—imagining the joy when he handed them the $20 million that would save the family business.
They'd be overjoyed. Maybe even cry.