It all started the day I posted that personal ad:

You're a six foot two rookie professional basketball player with freakishly long arms and a winsome way with the media.

I'm a San Antonio Spurs fan with a serious case of the seven-year-itch where my team's starting point guard is concerned.

You're a recent graduate from an unknown university in middle America.

I'm a thirty-something father of four with one more on the way, and a sports blog habit to support.

You have a penchant for driving to the bucket and grabbing important rebounds.

I have a preference to cheer for a PG who loves to pass instead of a scorer who plays the point.

Please average ten, three and one through your first twenty-some-odd games and I'll reward you with year's worth of undeserved loyalty, including (but not limited to) cheering your great plays while chalking up any boneheaded mistakes to your being a rookie, all while convincing myself that you'll be able to be everything I've ever wanted in a point guard.

All I ask is that you keep this arrangement quiet. I hear the French can be jealous, and I don't want to cause a scene.