Good morning and prepare yourself for one of the stupidest things you'll see all morning. A fan fight, involving children, or girlfriends, or child girlfriends in Anaheim:

Maybe if you're the spotlight guy you move the spotlight off of that situation. Ya know, maybe.

But obviously it's not his fault. I was trying to explain to a co-worker earlier this week that I don't understand people's obsessions with things like foul balls and pucks that leave the rink. If it's to give it to kid then I totally understand it - kids cherish things like that. They're able to look at a stupid puck with total awe and admiration. In Anaheim, when I was a kid, I got hit with a baseball during batting practice (laugh it up), almost corraled it, but ultimately dropped it on the field. Detroit Tigers pitcher Mike Henneman came over and picked it up and handed it to me. No shit you've never heard of him, he probably works at a Sonic now. But I still remember it so clearly and followed him for years - those mementos are huge to kids.

But as an adult, I do not currently have a place in my apartment that is going to look great when I get that professional hockey players stick. If I did wouldn't I just go out and buy one? If I somehow came upon a piece of sports memorabilia like that it would just be a burden because I'd feel like I have to so something with it.

Picture this: many years from now I'm living in Illinois and I have a new neighborhood friend over for dinner (not gay). After dinner we're indulging in some Shirley Temples and candy cigarettes in my Man Zone and he walks up to a baseball I have in that little plastic holder with the gold painted plastic base and wonders what the importance of this baseball is that I have displayed so prominently.

"Uh, it was a Shane Victorino foul ball. But it went all the way to the second deck man, you should have seen it. I had to dive down three rows and got in a wrestling match with this big fat white dude. That son of a bitch almost had it too. But I bit the fucker!"