As Snoopy's was heading home, the American basketball world had already found its next favorite meme — following the viral "Actually, I'm a Point Guard" line came a new punchline:
"The Mysterious Power of Anderson Business School — 5 years, $88.88 million."
Here's why.
At a private party, Phil Knight tried explaining the real story to the furious camps of Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, and Kevin Durant. He told them the truth: Snoopy didn't actually get that much money, and Nike had no plans to release a signature shoe for him (yet).
To calm them down, Knight even showed them the contract itself.
When the three teams saw the guaranteed amount was only $4.88 million, with harsh performance-based bonuses, their anger cooled.
And once the jealousy faded, competition kicked in — they all started fighting to have Snoopy wear their shoe line.
Originally, Nike intended for Snoopy to wear their new Hyper Dunk (HD) team model to boost sales of that series.
But now? All three star teams wanted him under their banner.
Nike's product structure was already well-defined:
LeBron James' shoes sat at the luxury tier ($200).
Kobe Bryant's shoes, though not Nike's top flagship due to his Adidas past, dominated the $180 range.
Kevin Durant's line was known for affordability and value, targeting $150.
No real conflict — but every star wanted higher sales.
And since Snoopy didn't compete directly with them, each saw him as a potential brand ambassador.
So began the tug-of-war:
LeBron's team argued Snoopy played center, so he needed their tough, powerful models.
Kobe's camp countered: Snoopy was a high-IQ scholar, a perfect fit for the tech-driven Kobe Venomenon series.
Durant's side, though less influential, made a smart pitch: Snoopy has female fans and they may not spend as much on basketball shoes — the cost-effective KD line fit the market best.
The debate dragged on until Nike executives, overwhelmed, finally decided:
"Forget it — he'll wear Zoom HyperRev, no one's signature shoe."
All three groups left disappointed.
Though Nike asked them to keep contract details confidential, just two days later, on May 1st, the Cleveland Plain Dealer dropped a bombshell:
"Snoopy's $88.88 million deal is not fully guaranteed — only about $4.88 million is secured."
The report claimed this was firsthand verified information.
Instantly, the story reignited.
Where before, critics mocked Nike for signing a "humiliating, unequal treaty," now they celebrated — the truth had freed them.
Then came the jokes.
"UCLA's Anderson Business School just overtook Berkeley's Economics Department overnight. Only their grads could turn a $5 million deal into a $90 million headline — without an agent! Good thing he's not actually working in finance, or we'd never trust a balance sheet again."
"Once again, Snoopy shows his genius. The number 8888 now feels almost mystical — a shining dream you can see but never touch."
"From now on, no NBA player will ever want an $88.88 million deal. Even something like $88.48 million will make people suspicious, like how folks always question if 99.99% gold is really pure."
Soon, the jokes spread across TV, print, and social media — turning viral.
The number 8888 became symbolic: a dream, a fantasy, a number representing unreachable ambition.
Snoopy never expected that his Nike deal would spark two waves of public frenzy. He never planned to hide its terms — Nike had deliberately created buzz with that ambiguous "$88.88 million total value" announcement.
Now, the "perfect number" had become a national punchline.
On the plane, Daphne began discussing sponsorship splits.
"Since you negotiated the Nike deal yourself, my company will only charge you $10,000 for coordination. But the Gucci fragrance and KFC Asia sponsorships were signed through me, so I'll take 10% of those — that's $120,000 total. It'll be processed as a company dividend."
"You ever notice how beautiful your profile is?" Snoopy said casually, grinning. "Good thing you don't look like Professor Nielsen."
She rolled her eyes.
"So what, my front isn't pretty enough?"
"Front, side, all angles — beauty everywhere," Snoopy replied poetically.
She raised an eyebrow playfully.
"Do you always use poetry when flirting with girls ?"
Snoopy thought seriously, then said honestly:
"Actually, I've never chased a girl. Girls usually kiss me first."
"Yeah right, liar."
She turned away, clearly done with him.
Snoopy sighed — what was there to lie about? There was video proof, after all.
After a 5-hour flight, the plane landed in JFK Airport.
As sunlight from home washed over him, Snoopy felt rejuvenated.
Stretching, he noticed something odd. He wasn't nearly as stiff as expected.
He briefly wondered if his night with Jennifer was still in "effect'.
Then chuckled to himself —
"Guess it's just like they say… the first time's awkward, the second time's smooth."