My wife's due date is the 30th.

That's not what I wanted to talk about--just kind of throwing it out there so you know why I might be disappearing for a while. I have a senseless anecdote for you to remember me by, but hit Play on the video after the jump to get in the mood.

One summer when I was in Youth Group, we were all tasked with coming up with a new game for everyone to play, using only a pile of objects given to us. The game that was voted as the "best" would be played that Wednesday night, and possibly even the rest of the summer. The group of fellows I ran with in those days (we called ourselves "The Collective", how pretentious is that?) was widely seen as hilarious, creative, and all-around awesome, which really speaks to our charisma because only one of the six of us could really be classified as a "jock" (hint: not me.)

Anyway, everyone knew that whatever game we came up with would automatically be the best, so the other kids largely got out of our way as we had our pick of the items. This was right up my alley, and the rest of the Collective was soon looking to me for a brainwave. You had your usual assortments of bats and balls, fruit, racquets, books, other pieces of sporting equipment. But it wasn't these items that caught my attention.

I quickly detailed my idea: players would blind each other using a can of shaving cream, move to opposite corners of the room, then, still blinded, locate one of four pool noodles lying about with which to beat the others senselessly. To win, you must be the last one standing (well, kneeling--that's how it was played), and, with your eyes still shut, you must grab the framed, signed photo of Bob Saget in the center of the room:

via www.movieeye.com

This one, in fact.

And thus, Bob Saget Battle Arena was born.

To make a long story short, the game was an absolute smash, and I'm told they're STILL playing it, years later. They've had to print out another copy of the photo, and change the shaving cream to whipped cream (of course), but the basic principles are the same.

Why? Probably a couple reasons: kids love to beat the crap out of each other, and, just maybe, respect given for my team's ability to create something TOTALLY EPIC not just out of spare parts, but the pieces that everyone else would have rejected.

The moral of this story (wait, there's a moral?) Don't panic about the Spurs. With the same brains behind the operation, the Post-Duncan Era (P.D.) is bright, once the spare parts and journeymen coalesce into something special, and completely unexpected. No one's as good as working with the pieces given to them as Pop and Buford.

That was really roundabout, and probably a huge stretch... I'm sorry. I think I just wanted to tell that story.

ANYWAY, there are a few games tonight, and a whopping THIRTEEN tomorrow, but you obviously don't have to discuss them. You know I don't want to.

What would you like to discuss?

Perhaps the Bronx Zoo Cobra?

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