If I could be a certain athlete at a certain time, I would be Randy Johnson

so I could go to the first ever live Temple of the Dog Show.

Happy Hump Day everybody, happy Wednesday. We got a midweek pod coming at you. It's going to be like this the rest of the season. I like this a lot better. I hope you all liked the Monday morning thing.

To be honest, take you behind the curtain.

Guys are not getting to that pod by four or five in the afternoon. There's not much you haven't heard about Sunday Slated Games, but it's not quite enough time for me to responsibly break down all the film I want to break down to give you a meaty kind of football pod that's got like the details in there.

Anybody who's giving you all the details on Monday morning, like as if they've watched every team play both sides of the ball in detail where they can tell you what happened.

Either they're on crack cocaine or much better at this than than I am. And maybe both in some cases I have no idea how anybody can absorb break down and retain like everything that happens Sunday by Monday morning. But what we are doing is taking a stab at it Sunday night and kind of just reacting to stuff.

So I think as the season goes on, I'll do some Wednesday pods that are like just deep dive football. Hey, you guys suggested that you wanted to see like something on a long look.

There was a you know, a line in matchup or what happened to the Capitol is defense, which I'll only do once. Okay, I did that one time maybe once more, but definitely not twice.

They'll be pods like that, but this week is different because we happen to stumble into an amazing guest to amazing guests. Okay.

Part of the legendary band progium of which I'm a big fan like many of I suppose the other 35 year old white males that are listening to this podcast.

And I'm sure there are a few man. I love that fucking band. I'm also lucky to call Jeff A. Mint a friend somebody that I got to know through one of my dad's buddies, one of my dad's best friends played for the Lakers a long time, relatively long time.

His name is Frank Brickowski. He also played for like the books, the spur, stuff like that. I have one of those pictures I'm staring at right now in my home office. It's one of those cutouts that you know, back in the 90s, you would make you would take a picture that they took on one of those heavy ass.

You got to develop the film cameras and then they would turn it into like a diorama or some shit. I'm staring at one right now and I'm at a San Antonio Spurs game like up to my dad's knees.

He's in a fucking Canadian tuxedo probably with spitter in his hand. It's not alcohol. He doesn't drink.

And flat top looks glorious. He's standing with Frank Brickowski of the Spurs. It's power forward and about

three four inches tall in Frank is David Robinson, the admiral and to the left of my dad. And this is the disturbing part. I head shorter than my pops is a guy in a Cleveland Indians hat and a leather jacket. His name is Charlie Sheen.

What the fuck was going on in that situation and why was I hanging around Charlie Sheen? I mean, I've had this thing since I was a kid.

I'm displaying it proudly as an adult. I have never asked out loud why I wasn't hanging out with Charlie Sheen.

I got to call my dad and ask him that. But Frank Brickowski and him were cool because they met in LA, you know, dad was playing for the Raiders, Frank was playing for the Lakers.

But Frank also played in Seattle with the Sonics and got tight with a lot of the dudes in that scene. Jeff A.Mant was one of them.

Jeff, Frank, my dad actually filled Jackson even has a spot right off Flathead Lake in Montana. But I've been going to Flathead since I was a kid.

...