Even if you’re a Sportscenter loyalist and fancy yourself a devoted college basketball fan, there’s a good chance you’ve never actually seen this Jimmer Fredette guy play. Sure, you’ve seen a few highlight reels of the BYU guard tossing in shots from three rows deep in the stands, but you’ve never actually seen an entire BYU game, have you?

Outside of a few fragments of that top-ten matchup with San Diego State a few weeks back and some of last year’s NCAA tournament, I don’t think I’ve seen that much actual game footage of Jimmer and BYU in action, either. And that’s weird, because not only is their point guard dropping a nation-leading 27.9 points per game, but his team was shockingly close to nailing down a number one seed in the tournament.

Everything is OK. Just fine. Sit still, smile and, when appropriate, cheer when Oregon scores. Then repeat. We’re going to get through this, brain. We’ve weathered far worse storms. Remember when we sat through that Two and a Half Men marathon with my parents? I promise we’ll come out just fine, unlike Charlie Sheen. When we make it through this, I promise to treat you to a crossword puzzle every morning and discontinue my habit of drowning you in gin every Fourth of July.

If you’ve found yourself watching a televised University of Oregon basketball game played at Matthew Knight Arena, the above line of thinking may have raced across the teleprompter of your mind. If not, you’re a genius. Congratulations. There’s coffee in the lobby, go out there and congratulate yourself.

A bunch of other stuff happened at the NBA All-Star game, like a dozen or so missed layups and Rihanna treating and/or subjecting basketball fans to her robotic warbling at half-time, but most importantly, the two teams combined for 291 points with the West all-stars taking down the squad from the Eastern Conference by a tally of 148-143. Here’s the really crazy thing about this game; they could have scored a hell of a lot more points if either team would have run up and down the court or shot competently from behind the arc. And if you’ve read this column before, you know that I love high-scoring sporting events more than I love excessive amounts of kittens.

So, yeah. My prediction that the Steelers would win the Super Bowl by way of a vast, mind-boggling conspiracy didn’t exactly pan out. Whatever, who cares? I’m onto more important things now – like going out and purchasing all the items the Super Bowl advertisements told me I, as a football fan, should want. People, if you don’t support the companies that pay in unicorn blood (the most valuable of all blood) for a 30-second spot during the Super Bowl, there won’t be a Super Bowl next year. Seriously.

So, here’s what I learned about myself – as a football fan – by the products that were sold to me on Sunday.