You can't sweat out . . .

Archive for March, 2009|Monthly archive page

Bob Barker, come back to me

In Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood on March 29, 2009 at 5:59 pm

I recently realized that while I talked a big game about pledging to never again watch The Price is Right due to Drew Carey, I relapsed back to the show at one of the first opportunities since that writing.  Flipping through the channels last week, I fell upon the Showcase Showdown, and in accordance with one of my personal rules, I could not change the channel.  Final Jeopardy.  Fast Money on the Family Feud.  The final puzzle on Wheel of Fortune.  These are four segments of television I will not intentionally miss.  So, with my dislike for Carey as a host in the back of my mind, I gave him another shot.

After the first contestant blatantly overbid, all the second guy had to do was bid a dollar and walk away with a new boat, ATV, and dining room set.  But no.  He bid $24,000.  Great move.  Especially when the showcase was worth just over $22,oo0.  Just like that, both contestants lost out.

How did Drew handle this unfortunate ending?  Awakwardly.  Like a dejected kid who just had his lunch stolen, he said, “A double over bid.  You guys just bummed me out (pauses 3 seconds, then tries to recover). You each won $1,000 in the spin-off . . . that was cool.  And we gave away a camcorder, a car.”

I don’t know what I was expecting overall- maybe no one will be able to live up to the lofty status that Bob achieved as host.  Maybe I’m being too hard on Drew.   Maybe I should realize that The Price is Right is made for people three times my age.

Maybe this picture should never have been taken.

Remember to have your pets spayed or neutered . . .

Please remember to have your pets spayed or neutered . . .


Johnny Utah: 1, Johnny Montana: 0

In Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood on March 25, 2009 at 7:25 pm

Saved by the Bell was, and is, awesome.  Granted, it is also awesomely bad.  Never before or since have characters been so typecast, stereotypes so liberally exaggerated, or plots so ludicrous.  With the Tori Paradox fresh on my mind, I couldn’t help but start to think about some of the other absurdities the show presented.  Screech’s talking robot, Kevin, who not only had the ability to speak, but also had human emotions.  The fact that Slater wore a jersey and/or something acid washed 78% of time time.  Zack’s ability to pause time in order to address the camera or, in one case, avoid a punch.  He could also smooth talk his way out of most any situation, and I suppose if he could escape his way out of detention by getting Mr.  Belding to voluntarily eat chocolate covered grasshoppers, he could charm his way into Yale.  But he could not score a 1502 on his SATs.  It’s mathematically impossible.

Hey hey hey hey WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? - Mr. Belding

"Hey hey hey hey WHAT is going on here?" - Mr. Belding

A recent comment by the Los Man piqued my interest about the order of events in the world of Bayside (though I disagree with him that Zack was interested in Tori for sex.  She presented a challenge.  Also, there was no sex in Bayside.  Only kissing, during which an invisible audience would invariably “whooooooooooooooooo!”).  I was floored to see that in 1991, the show aired back to back on Saturdays.  The first episode of the day would be set at Bayside, leading into the second which would center around the gang’s activities at Malibu Sands, the club owned by Mr. Carosi.

Also, by finally looking into the original airdate of the each show, I was able to end, once and for all, the age old “Johnny State Name” debate.  Who came first: Johnny Utah, the ex Ohio State QB turned F-Beee-Eyeee AGENT, played by Keanu Reeves in Point Break?  Or the teen star Johnny Dakota, who burst onto the Bayside scene in order to film an anti-drug commercial, only for Zack and the gang to discover that he puffed the magic dragon himself?

As I always expected, Saved by the Bell appears to have taken a page from the Ohio State Buckeye playbook, as that episode aired on November 30, 1991, some 5 months after July 12 premiere of Point Break. Was Saved by the Bell taped before the movie’s premiere?  We may never know (I can’t find it on the internet), but one thing is for sure: Johnny Utah was one radical son of a gun.  Johnny Montana was not.

They only live life to get radical.

They only live life to get radical.

Update: 3,333rd viewer is anonymous presumed awesome (APA), and MaineCoast12 looks to Chuck Klosterman for answers about Bayside

In Come on!, Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood on March 22, 2009 at 11:24 pm

If you happened to be reading JSF on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, between 4:45 and 5 pm, there is a chance that you may have unknowingly hit the jackpot of luck.  Around that time, the 3,333rd viewer visited the site, earning the right to all the good luck that will surely follow this person like a tail, the massive shout-out, my undying adoration, etc, etc.

In heartbreaking fashion, two of the more serious cases of the Fever came close- Uncle Mike logged in at 3,229, while Joe Sarge was moments too late at 3,334.  Both deserve shout-outs, but the rules were the rules.  Only for 3,333.  So, sadly enough, we will have to wait around for 33,333.  I will be praying that THAT person will actually realize it.  FYI: We’re now at 3,585, so only 29,748 more readers necessary.  Also FYI: that could be a while.  At the current rate at which the Fever is spreading, the number will be reached on approximately August 4, 2011.

More importantly, mentioning Tori replacing Kelly on Saved by the Bell aroused the interest of one MaineCoast12, and I’m happy to report that this issue has been studied and reported on by one of the great minds of our generation, Chuck Klosterman.  In his fantastic book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto, Klosterman expounds upon MaineCoast12’s very question, terming the replacement as “The Tori Paradox.”

The Tori Paradox refers to the show’s last season in 1993.  NBC, the network airing Saved by the Bell, ordered a 13 show final season, with the final show consisting of the six main character’s graduation.  After the season had been shot, NBC ordered more episodes, but the Elizabeth Berkeley (Jessie Spano) and Tiffani-Amber Thiessen (Kelly) refused to sign new contracts (stardom as a flashdancer in Vegas and a switch of zip codes to 90210 beckoned).

Instead of just moving on with Lisa, Screech, Zack and Slater, the show’s writers introduced a new character, Tori, to fill the void left by two of the three female characters.  The Tori Paradox, of course, refers to the fact that Jessie and Kelly’s disappearances are never explained, nor is it made clear by Tori shows up.  To make matters more complicated, the show’s final episode was the graduation episode, in which Jessie and Kelly are back.

The lack of commitment to the story from Jessie and Kelly is shocking.  You’re telling me that they could have witnessed heroic performances like Samuel “Screech” Powers inventing a new dance fad, “The Crutch,” to compensate for Lisa’s injury during a dance competition at The Max, and you can’t even finish out the final season?  Come on!

Head Cheerleader + Grade Grubber = Biker Chick (Bayside Class of '93)

Head Cheerleader + Grade Grubber = Biker Chick (Bayside Class of '93)

March MADNESS: VCU men lose game, VCU women lose dignity on national TV

In People are so weird, The Sporting Life on March 20, 2009 at 1:13 am

Today marked the first of the four consecutive days that mark, for my money, the best of the year.  From Thursday through Sunday, 48 high quality, intense, extremely interesting basketball games are played.  It is perfectly acceptable to have streaming video of the games open on your computer at work, and you’re looked at as having a problem if you don’t gamble (seriously, who wouldn’t want to be in at least one pool?).  A note about the streaming video: kudos to all around for their fantastic work.  Thanks also for eliminating the wait time that was necessary to endure last year, and again giving us the option to watch any game in play.  You rule.

So far, like most people (chalk , for the most part, won out today.  For you non-fans, that means the higher seeds won their match-ups), I did well in my bracket.  I finished the day with 13/16 picks correct- my crowning achievement was 12 seed Western Kentucky defeating 5 seed Illinois in the South bracket.  You always have to pick at least one of the four 12 seeds to  win in the first round (I also have Wisconsin winning tomorrow), and this year I decided to step it up and pick 13 seed North Dakota St. to defeat 4 seed and perennial power Kansas.  It could come back to haunt me, but if it actually happens, oh what a pick up line I will have to use tomorrow night.  Seriously, girls go nuts over the fact that you picked upsets in the tournament.  Especially when you have a computer print out of your bracket in your back pocket for proof.

The last game of the night was the entertaining battle between VCU (11) and UCLA (6).  The game went down to the wire, and generally the free advertising that a university receives from having a team in the tournament is good for the school.  Applications at VCU may have gone down for next year, however.  It had nothing to do with the men on the court; no, they performed admirably.  The student section, on the other hand, hit RB (Rock Bottom).  With 1:57 left in the game, tension was high, nerves were rattled, shirts were off.  On girls.  This is a great thing, right?  Not quite.  I was enjoying a delicious orange popsicle when all of a sudden, my heavenly 46” TV suddenly, and without warning, displayed this image:



Seriously, those girls look 13.  The broadcast suddenly went from PG to PG-13, and that was a change I was not ready for.  The girl on the left actually ends up looking pretty cute, but after pausing the game and looking at her in various frames for about 5 minutes, Mosher and I definitely finished the debate.  Compared to her friend (who, by the way, is borderline heinous.  How did the producers of the game let this image slip into the broadcast?), she is hot, and she seems to have a lovely body- but if you put clothes on her, she would be average to quite average.  Kind of like me.  When I can’t use my 6-pack to get girls, it’s back to square one (aka relying on the bracket flashing).

A picture is worth a thousand words, or in this case three: not enough clothes

A picture is worth a thousand words, or in this case three: not enough clothes

Important announcement: The 3,333rd person will soon be infected with JSF

In Winner Winner Chicken Dinner! on March 17, 2009 at 10:59 am

That’s right, today will be the day when the 3,333rd viewer of John Stamos Fever will be unveiled.  Will it be you?  Look down to the bottom right of this page to see if you are this incredibly lucky person.  If so, please let it be known by way of comment and you will win the ultimate JSF prize (aka a massive shout out).


I don’t think it is any coincidence that this milestone will occur on St. Patrick’s Day.  33 was Larry Bird’s number when he played for the Celtics.  33 was my basketball number in high school.  33 was Yak, M.D’s basketball number in college (which he stole from me.  But it was for the best, as our warm-up shirts were not translucent, so pretty much nobody in the stands would have been able to see the number 33 until the last few minutes of the game, and then only if it was lopsided.  Oh college basketball, how I miss you).  JSF has also had exactly 33 views today at the point of this writing.  Stars are aligning.

So, until 33,333, this is your best chance to secure the amazing amount of luck that will come from a string of 3’s.  Good luck, godspeed, and happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Oh, and if the blog doesn’t get 12 more readers today, it will mark the biggest backfire since the Saved by the Bell producers replaced Kelly with Tori as Zack’s love interest.

In Dr. Yak’s office building, there will be no Braille on elevators. Unless, you know, that’s discriminatory

In Just absolutely dominating people on March 16, 2009 at 11:49 pm

Feeling the need to amuse the loyal readers of JSF on a Tuesday, I logged on around 10:30 p.m. Monday night, lacking inspiration.  Without intervention, I may have written some forced, half-assed diatribe about how ridiculous I find it how how there is Braille writing on places such as floor numbers in elevators and bathroom signs, or how badass Pete Maravich was, or wondering why there have been three Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movies, three Transformer movies and only one He-Man movie made.  Actually, I’ll probably write about the latter two at some point, so hold your breath.  As for the Braille, that’s pretty much all I’ve got.  On the whole I am just confused, and have no answer for why there is Braille in these places and not on,  oh, virtually anything else in day to day life.

Pictures of Braille on the internet.  The ultimate irony.

Pictures of Braille on the internet. The ultimate irony.

Then like a bolt of lightning, in the form of a comment on this very blog, my inspiration arrived.  My muse, if you will.  Like Quentin Tarantino’s muse (Uma Thurman), mine in this case has blonde hair, blue eyes, and striking bone structure.  Unlike Tarantino’s, however, mine can dunk.  And sing the words of Dispatch’s “The General,” Billy Joel’s “Piano Man,” and Cake’s “Let Me Go” with enthusiasm that makes this wedding DJ look comatose.  He is Mr. Yakavonis aka the Yak, aka the future Dr. Yak, or as I will refer to him, Yak, M.D.  With his 6’6” stature, intense Lithuanian (definitely not Russian) looks, and ability to scowl, he will make an intimidating doctor.  It’s great to want to help people through medicine, but I’m at least 64% sure that he is only doing it so he can live out the following scene  in the future:

It is a warm summer day.  Yak, M.D, his son Arturus (7), and his son‘s best friend, Jake, have been playing in the park.  And by playing, I mean Yak, M.D. has been running the boys through conditioning drills because they looked slow rounding the bases in their recent coaches-pitch baseball league.  Yak, M.D. has on a navy blue and white striped Adidas sweatsuedo, while he has the boys decked out in full Providence College Friars basketball camp regalia.  Arturus and Jake both have their hands on their knees, and it appears the training has broken poor Jake’s spirit.

Yak, M.D: (Lowering his sunglasses) “Come on guys, whaddya have, cement in your shoes?”

Arturus: (Panting) “Dad, can we play Legos instead?  We’re tired!”

Jake: “Yeah Mr. Yak, can we please stop running?”

Yak, M.D: (sounding like Royal Tenenbaum) “Jake, I didn’t go to 7 years of school to be called Mr.  Get on the line boys!”

It will be inspirational.

But I digress.  The good doctor inspired me to write when he commented on a previous post with some quality advice for anyone who logs onto this site in search of cures for fever.  It’s simply to take aspirin.  Also, not reading the blog would probably be advisable, as plebian fever and John Stamos Fever don’t mix well.  Nor do Yak, M.D. and weakness.

Mouse War 2009 is trumped by a 6 overtime THRILLER

In The Sporting Life, Uncle Jesse's Favorites, Winner Winner Chicken Dinner! on March 13, 2009 at 12:24 am
Mano a mouso

Mano a mouso

I came face to face with the enemy of 2009 last night.  No, not Bernie Madoff (though somewhat similar in appearance).  Fievel.   The leader of the kind of army who stages surprise attacks under the cover of the night, steals the opposition’s rations and takes shits at their headquarters.  The kind of army who must be destroyed (or at least removed).

It all started when I was just trying to be responsible and pick up after myself.  Gathering some loose papers and popsicle wrappers from the coffee table, I walked into the kitchen having absolutely no idea what was about to go down.

Leaning over the garbage can to make my deposit, a flash of brown on the white plastic lining at the bottom of the receptacle alerted me that I was not alone in the kitchen.  Fievel!  Oftentimes wars are won not by a great maneuver, but rather as the result of a tactical error.  Maybe he could have climbed out if he had more time, and if he had not been up against a much larger foe.  Who was smarter.  And more of a ninja.

I dropped him off in the garbage can on the corner a couple blocks away, still in the tied garbage bag.  It may seem cruel, but I am not worried- I think Fievel can chew his way out of a garbage bag.  I mean, we’re talking about a mouse who ate through plastic to get to a caramel cream (who wouldn’t?).

Are we mouse free?  For the time being, it seems to.  But only time will tell.

Speaking of more evenly matched wars, Syracuse and UConn are in the third overtime of an epic Big East tournament quarterfinal on ESPN.  I was at MSG last night to see the Orange take down the Pirates of Seton Hall.  Seton Hall, by the way, has to be one of the most bogus Division I program in the counry.  Their uniforms are as ugly as their games, their mascot is a goofy pirate (below), and their cheerleaders look like they are cast members of MTV True Life: I live at the Jersey Shore (“cheez bawls.  Steak sandwiches.  We pretty much own this joint!”).  The male cheerleaders had my new haircut, and the females had thick thighs and surely thicker accents.   That was mean.

Killer boots man

Killer boots man

But Seton Hall is not the story here, dude!  The Orange and the Huskies are putting on a ridiculous show.  It’s now 12:35 a.m, and UConn just missed a shot at the buzzer to send us to the 4th overtime.  This is the first 4 overtime game in Big East Tournament history, according to Bill Raftery, who managed to spit out this fact between seizures and yelling “The kiss!”  He also happened to be Seton Hall’s coach from 1970-82.

12:48- We’re heading for overtime number 5!  Unbelievable.  I’m getting tired just watching them.  When the clock reads 0.0 (for the 7th time this game), 65 minutes of play will have been completed.  Can we go to 6 overtimes?  Is that even possible?  Regulation ended an hour and twenty minutes ago when Eric Devendorf hit a three at the buzzer that was waved off upon review.

Devendorf has fouled out, as has UConn’s front line.  It’s 108-108 with 58.4 seconds left.  Wow.  36 seconds left, a recent sub for UConn just hit a jumper.  110-108.  Johnny Flynn from Syracuse just hit two free throws.  110-110.  15.1 seconds left, timeout UConn.  My palms are sweating.  Worse than when I executed Fievel’s capture.

We’re going to 6 overtimes!  I have no words left.  I want to stop writing.  I want to go to bed.  We’re heading towards 70 minutes of basketball, or for you math majors, 7/4 of a game.  According to Raftery, the longest college basketball game was 7 overtimes, between Cincinnatti and Bradley in 1991.  So now you know, and knowing’s half the battle.

Syracuse just hit a 3 pointer to open the 6th overtime, and amazingly, that is their first lead of any overtime, which is baffling.  UConn looks exhausted, and the Orange have seemingly caught their second wind, and now lead 115-110 with 2:40 left.

Hahahaha Paul Harris from Syracuse just got absolutely Sprited trying to dunk, but recovered and put in an And 1.  On that note, this entry is over.  I will give you the final score, when and if the game ends, but I am tapped.  Right now it’s 118-112 Syracuse with 2:12 left.  If I had to work as hard as either of these teams in Mouse War 2009, I would have surrendered the apartment.

It’s over.

Start time: 9:36 p.m

End time: 1:22 a.m

Final scores:

Syracuse 127, UConn 117

My apartment 5, Team Mouse 0

Randy Moller: The follow up

In Uncle Jesse's Favorites, Winner Winner Chicken Dinner! on March 11, 2009 at 8:39 pm

Randy Moller is such a golden god that he deserves another post, including a link to his greatest hits.

The above link is to the Panthers’ site that is updated each time he spouts out a fantastic goal call, so you will never have to miss a Randy Moller gem again.  Bookmark it.  Right after you bookmark John Stamos Fever.  Wait, you surely have already done that.  Unless you are the person who recently found the blog by typing “how to reduce a fever” into a search engine.  I doubt they bookmarked it.  This is not the place to come for that information.  Sorry to that random peruser if his or her fever was exacerbated in any way from this site.

And if it wasn’t, they should check their pulse.  Because if Randy Moller’s goal calls don’t get your blood flowing, not much can.

Oh, and one final note:  MaineCoast12 will surely shed a tear when he sees one of Moller’s greatest goal calls: “He shoots he scores!  Take me down to the paradise city!”  I rest my case that Moller is the greatest hockey announcer ever.

He shoots!  He scores!  Mmmm that IS a TASTY burger!”

He shoots, he scores! Laces out, Dan!

In Just absolutely dominating people, The Sporting Life, Uncle Jesse's Favorites on March 10, 2009 at 10:43 pm

Want to pick up a girl?  Use a movie quote.  (This may be slightly to moderately successful)

Want to make your friends laugh?  Use a movie quote. (This may be very to extremely successful)

Want to create the best signature goal call in the history of the NHL on radio*? Use a movie quote.

(* This statement is, of course, absolute assumption, as I had previously never heard another NHL goal call)

Thanks to my uncle Mike (and the Dan Le Batard show), I am now aware of a genius at work near the southernmost point of our great country.  The play by play announcer of the Florida Panthers, Randy Moller, is making goals by the Florida Panthers among my favorite plays in sports.  If he announced Red Sox homeruns like he does Panthers tallies, I don’t think I would ever miss another Sox game on the radio.

You see, with help from the suggestions of listeners to the Dan Le Batard radio show, Moller, a former 13 year NHL vet, peppers goal calls with references from some of the most quotable movies ever.   Examples of his work:

“He shoots, he scores!  Make me a bicycle clown!”  (Kid yelling at Vince Vaughn in Wedding Crashers),

“He shoots, he scores!  Pay dat man his money.”  (John Malkovich as Teddy KGB in Rounders), and my personal favorite

“He shoots, he scores!  Who is your daddy, and what does he do?” (Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop).

Not to be lost in the shuffle is the fact that the picture at the beginning of this glorious youtube compilation of some of his best calls makes him look like a confused gym teacher with sex offender facial hair. . . or a former hockey player.  But it only adds to his aura when that flashes on the screen before he launches into his goal calls of glory.

As Randy Moller is surely a reader of John Stamos Fever, I’d like to suggest the following gems for him:

“He shoots, he scores!  I invented the paino key necktie.  I invented it!” (Will Ferrell as Mugatu in Zoolander)

“He shoots, he scores!  You play ball like a girl!” (The Great Hambino in The Sandlot)

“He shoots, he scores!  Get busy living, or get busy dying!” (Morgan Freeman as Red in Shawshank Redemption)

“He shoots, he scores!  I’m going to murderball you!” (Jonah Hill in Knocked Up)

“He shoots, he scores!  SWEEP THE LEG” (Cobra Kai dude in Karate Kid)

“He shoots, he scores!  Sloth love Chunk!  (Sloth in The Goonies)

“He shoots, he scores!  You’re out of your element Donnie!”  (John Goodman as Walter in The Big Lebowski)

“He shoots, he scores!  Dorothy Mantooth is a saint!”  (Vince Vaughn as Wes Mantooth in Anchorman)

“He shoots, he scores!   I caught you a delicious bass!”  (Jon Heder in Napoleon Dynamite)

“He shoots, he scores!   Throw another shrimp on the barbie!”  (Jim Carrey as Lloyd in Dumb and Dumber)

“He shoots, he scores! Rocky loves Emily.  Rocky loves Emily!”  (Colt and Tum Tum in 3 Ninjas)

“He shoots, he scores!  This is your wake up call, Bohdi!  I am an F, B, I, AGENT!” (Keanu Reeves as Johnny Utah in Point Break)

There are, of course, thousands of these.  I’d go on but I’d love to hear some of your favorites, oh loyal readers.

And I need to keep my next pick up line a secret.

The NBA is FANtastic: Men, women and children make a mockery of themselves on TV

In The Sporting Life on March 8, 2009 at 4:03 pm

As American Idol clearly shows, people will do just about anything to get on television.  So entranced are we by the idea of thousands, if not millions of people having the opportunity to see us on the small screen that we will hold up signs all game for the chance of being shown on TV for a mere few seconds.  And don’t even get me started on the fans who sit behind home plate at baseball games on their cell phones the whole game, waving to their friends watching back home.

On Friday night while waiting for Joe Sarge to arrive from Boston on the Fung Wah bus in order to partake in Hoboken St. Patrick’s Day on Saturday (utter and complete decimation of numerous livers, by the way), I was enjoying the Celtics outscoring LeBron and the Cavs on ESPN when I witnessed a display of ridiculousness from the fans sitting directly behind the announcers during a timeout.  With the Celtics leading 40-33 with 2:02 remaining in the first half, the cameras zeroed in Hubie Brown looking dead and Mike Tirico looking constipated.  Realizing that they were on TV, what appeared to be a father/daughter combination who appear from the chest up between the two used their six seconds of fame to the fullest extent.  Luckily, by the marvel of DVR and a digital camera, I will recreate the scene below:

Hey everyone!  Come and see how good we look!

Hey everyone! Come and see how good we look!

A classic move- both man and woman pretend that not only are they having an extremely humorous conversation, but also looking at something much more interesting to their right.  They are so cool and nonchalant, it appears that they might not even know the camera is on them.  But they do.  Oh yes, they do.

(**sidenote** In addition to Tirico, there are at two African-American fans visible in the stands.  This image of nominal diversity at the TD Banknorth Garden in 2009 is in stark contrast to the makeup of the crowd at the old Boston Garden back in the 80s.  A co-worker used to have a panoramic view of the Garden from 1986, and we once spent upwards of 15 minutes searching through thousands of fans trying to find all the African-Americans in picture who were not part of the game itself.  The number we were able to find matches the number of the above picture.  In fact, that picture of the Garden looks a lot like a sheet.)

I knew I should have worn contacts today.  What was I thinking?!

I knew I should have worn contacts today. What was I thinking?!

After a few seconds the man suddenly decides that he wants the ESPN audience to see how sexy he looks without glasses.  Note, there is no explanation for this maneuver except to be seen without glasses.  Which is absurdly awesome.  I rewound and watched this action numerous times, each time enjoying it more.  Also, we have a Celtics superfan who is copying Turtle’s look from Entourage throwing up gang signs over Hubie Brown’s right shoulder.  God, I wish this wasn’t my favorite team’s crowd.

Check me out, I'm awesome.

Check me out, I'm awesome.

Hubie Brown looks ghastly.  Do I really even need to say much about the father/daughter combo?  They thought they were only getting a few seconds of fame, but little did they know John Stamos Fever would chronicle their exploits for the world to see.  There was no way to confirm it, but it appears that everyone immediately seated behind the announcers is involved in a mass joke.  The NBA.  It’s FANtastic!

While these two added more enjoyment to the game for me than they will ever know, they didn’t even represent my favorite fan appearance during the game.  No, this award goes to a kid sitting courtside who gets completely shot down by Paul Pierce in an attempt for a high five.  Some notes for the kids:

– Don’t go to a Celtics game and sit courtside in the jersey of that night’s opponent

– While wearing said jersey, do not try to get a high five from Paul Pierce.  You will get dominated.

– Don’t be a dumbass

Where's your Pierce jersey, kid?  You just got pwned!

Where's your Pierce jersey, kid? You just got pwned!