I imagine that when some boyfriends say, "We're going to do something special on Sunday. It's a surprise," their girlfriends later find themselves sitting in front of plates of lobster salad at fancy restaurants or aboard planes bound for Paris or Rome. But when it's Rob talking, the destination is a little different.

It's a Harlem Globetrotters game. Yeah. That's right. Those girls can keep their lobster salad.

When I was little, basketball was the only sport I enjoyed, thanks to my dad, who I believe cherished a hope one of his daughters would defy biology and grow six additional inches before going on to play basketball for UCLA. As a young one, I loved the LA Lakers, but I wanted to be a Harlem Globetrotter. I dreamed of spinning red, white and blue basketballs, "Sweet Georgia Brown," crime-solving with Scooby Doo.

Twenty years later, I've given up on that particular dream, but it was incredibly cheering to see the world is still full of kids who haven't. Equally heartening were the players themselves, who seem to be having a great time on the court. Twenty years later, adult life isn't quite what my third grade self had in mind, so it was nice to find out being a Harlem Globetrotter is as awesome as I'd always hoped.

Oh, and the Washington Generals lost. In case you were wondering.