All hail the blue and gold!

At last. Thank goodness you're here. We weren't sure how long we could wait. We're desperate. We didn't know where else to go. We won't stay long.

We know what you can do. You've done so much for other people! For our friends. We've been in their homes, seen the changes. They speak so highly of you.

Our needs? Where to start . . . ?

Our living room. It has no sconces! None. The wall behind our sofa is an embarrassing mélange of family photos unadorned by soft candlelight.

What's that? The Nostalgi wall sconce? With a powder-coated steel finish at just $4.99 each? Thank you. It's perfect. Just perfect!

I'm almost . . . embarrassed to say it. Our back issues of Forbes and Popular Science are just . . . they're just strewn everywhere! Stacked on end tables so . . . unstylishly.

The Kritsa magazine rack? A polypropylene basket and steel legs with an anti-corrosive phosphate coating? Only $9.99? It's . . . it's exactly what we need! I barely know -- -- how to thank you!

There is one other thing. As long as we're here. I . . . I'm not sure how to . . . It's rather . . . private. It's . . . our toilet brush. We bought it at . . . I can't . . . But I know I can tell you. We bought it at . . . the hardware store!

Oh, I knew you would! The Viren toilet brush! So stylish! So white! And just $0.79!

Oh, thank you! Thank you, Ikea!

We'll be back! We'll be back . . . soon.

Like other establishments across the Twin Cities, St. John's Hoops now offers convenient shuttle service between the gym and the new Ikea in Bloomington. The bus departs the gym tonight at 7:05, 7:50, and 8:35 p.m. If you can, try to slip in a few games between trips. We tip off at 6:30, as usual. Please let me know if you will be there.

Bulk

"We'll just have to take your picture," said the girl at the checkout counter.

I hesitated.

"So . . . you'll have my photograph on file down in Bentonville," I said.

"Uh-huh." She smiled.

Now this was something else. I don't mind volunteering my likeness, fingerprints, DNA samples, or what have you to my government. But to Wal-Mart Stores, Incorporated?

I should start at the beginning.

A few months back I received an invitation in the mail to visit Sam's Club, the "members-only" warehouse store. Being repelled yet fascinated by the Wal-Mart phenomenon -- Big? Last year the company was hit with a new lawsuit once every two hours! -- I hung onto the free pass until this weekend, when I said to the Missus, "Hey, let's go to Sam's Club today." Amazingly, she -- being no fan of Wal-Mart -- consented.

We didn't intend to buy anything, just to gape at the giant tubs of mayonnaise, the foot-locker-sized boxes of Ritz crackers, and other wonders of the bulk-shopping world. But when we saw the 64-oz. twin pack of Liquid Plumr and remembered the clogged bathroom drain, I went to fetch a cart. That's when it got a little weird.

The carts at Sam's Club are -- how can I describe them? They're fun-house sized. They're about half again as big in every dimension as a standard shopping cart, so as you approach one and take the handle you suddenly feel like you've shrunk, like you're Lily Tomlin standing next to that big chair.

Okay, we happened to need milk and there we were and I never look at the price of milk anyway, so It's not like we bought the milk because it was a screaming deal. And I always buy the cat litter in the 40-pound size, and Sam's Club's house brand is probably just as good as Tidy Cat and, again, there we were. But when the Missus asked if we should get some cat food and I looked at the mattress-sized bag of Cat Chow all I could say was, "I don't think the cat's going to live that long." We moved on. On to the 1000-count freezer bags and the 1000-count Swiffer refills and the 1000-count frozen buffalo wings.

In all honesty we never intended to join. What happened was this. When we reached the checkout I handed our pass to the girl and began unloading our dozen or so items. "Did you want to join Sam's Club today?" she asked helpfully. "Nope. Just here to check the place out, grab a few things," I said.

"And you know there's a ten percent service fee since you're not a member?"

I glanced at the Missus. No response. "Yep, that's fine," I said.

The girl rang up the total and I said, "Jeez, Sweetie. The membership fee isn't much more than the ten percent fee on our purchase. Maybe we should?"

She shot me the hairy eyeball. I knew I was already on shaky ground just having dragged her to Sam's Club.

"Are you sure?" said Missy.

"I'm sure," I said. "We'll just pay."

As I fished out my cash -- Sam's Club does not take credit cards -- a young but intense assistant manager materialized. In retrospect I believe Missy pushed a button under the counter to summon him. He held our fee pass in front of him as if it were evidence of a crime.

"Good morning. I understand you're using your free pass to visit us today. I understand you don't care to join Sam's Club today."

"That's right," I said. "Just came to check the place out."

"That's perfectly fine, Mr. Yaeger." I hadn't told him my name. "Are you aware of the many benefits of membership?" He recited a memorized sales pitch, concluding with "?and the membership fee of $35 is completely refundable any time in the next year if you decide to discontinue your membership."

I looked at the Missus. "Completely refundable," I mumbled.

"Fine," she said.

"Fine," I said to Jeremy.

"Fine!" said Missy. "I'll just put a code on your receipt and you take it to the service counter and they'll take your picture and get you your card."

By this point I felt we were in too far to back out. I felt certain people were watching us on the cameras mounted overhead. The exit was a good 100 yards away, and I could never reach a dead sprint what with the boy and the baby and those three-pound bags of M&Ms in tow. And that's how I came to be a card-carrying member of Sam's Club.

On the way home the Missus, brushing aside my counter-arguments about quality merchandise and helpful clerks and the clean, well-lit atmosphere, spoke quietly of betrayal and vowed to join the co-op this very week.

"And we're giving that card back," she said. "Oh, yes. I want to see what they say when we march in there and tell them we want our 35 bucks back."

So do I. And we will. But not until I stock up on maple syrup and highlighters and 100% merino wool socks -- nine for a dollar! -- and a couple of those giant, giant boxes of Frosted Mini-Wheats.

---

Talk about a mom-and-pop operation. St. John's hoops has been offering quality basketball with a personal touch for more than 10 years. Won't you come out tonight and play? Let me know if you will or will not be there. No membership required.

P.S. Due to floor refinishing at the school, please take an alternate route to the gym tonight. Enter the same doors, but immediately turn right into the fellowship hall, and go upstairs through the school hall to the balcony of the gymnasium. Please also use the upstairs bathrooms and take note: the water fountain will be off limits, so bring your own water or Gatorade!

Come again?

Under the category of You Can't Make This Stuff Up comes today's headline:

Toys R Us May Sell Toy Business

Wouldn't you have liked to have been in the meeting where the new VP suggested that strategy?

"Uh, Jenkins? I'm not sure you're clear on our vision. We want to be the world's leading retailer of children's play solutions. That means toys, Jenkins."

"I understand perfectly well, McMinn. But what I'm suggesting is the complete creative destruction of our core competence. By freeing ourselves from that which we know and do best, we'll actually expand our opportunities. We'll be able to develop more integrated solutions."

[Executive chorus] "Jenkins is right! We need more integrated solutions to compete!"

"It's all right here in this PowerPoint, Ladwig. By actually closing our toy stores we'll double foot traffic."

"Hmm. I see. Go on."

"Well, the McKinsey team collected significant data about customer buying habits. Let me jump ahead to slide 68. Their data proves that operating a friendly retail environment in which people give us cash in exchange for goods they desire is, well, frankly it's old-economy, Ladwig."

"Yes . . . Yes . . ."

And so on. I've been in that meeting a few times. I was even once interviewed at my desk by a McKinsey brat who wanted to know exactly what it is I do do. (In a true "Office Space" moment, I later saw a McKinsey presentation featuring an illustration in which all work carefully flowed around rather than through my soon-to-be-downsized area, like polite society ladies sidestepping a sidewalk drunk.)

At St. John's our fundamental value proposition has remained unchanged for ten years: Good hoops in a jerk-free environment. Please let me know if you will or will not be participating tonight. We tip off at 6:30, as usual.

Gotta run -- 'nother meeting!

Sun’s up!

At 5:30 a.m. I climbed into bed with Junior, who'd been shaken up by some bump in the night. We snoozed together and after a time he opened his eyes and said, "Wanna play!"

And what were YOUR first words this morning?

"Perhaps basketball and poetry have just a few things in common, but the most important is the possibility of transcendence," wrote essayist Stephen Dunn. "In writing, every writer knows when he or she is laboring to achieve an effect. You want to get from here to there, but find yourself willing it, forcing it. The equivalent in basketball is aiming your shot, a kind of strained and usually ineffective purposefulness. What you want is to be in some kind of flow, each next moment a discovery."

A two-year-old is incapabile of forcing it. Junior's words were immediately followed by his falling backwards out of bed and then popping up to exclaim, "Time to make coffee!" Now that's flow.

Are you prepared for what comes next today? If so, that's too bad. Too bad you know what's coming next, that is. Here's hoping we're all thrown wildly, happily off course by something utterly unexpected, like a Dan Haase behind-the-back-over-your-head-are-those-your-shorts-on-the-floor spin move.

The one certainty this day holds is hoops at St. John's tonight. We tip off at 6:30 -- or whenever -- as usual. Please let me know if you will or will not be playing tonight.