Dirk Nowitzki of the Mavericks is cheered by fans in Germany in June. European Pressphoto Agency

Who wants to talk jury selection in the Roger Clemens trial?

Me, neither. Yawnzz-o-riffic!

Instead, let's talk NBA lockout. But let's not have another exhausting dialogue over the labor impasse.

Let's focus on an inventive, 101-percent genius alternative to the NBA lockout. It's an alternative so delicious, you'll actually hope there's an NBA work stoppage. If you run into David Stern at the farmer's market wearing a floppy hat and green gardening clogs, you'll beg the commish to chuck his phone into a vat of homemade jalapeno jelly and blow off the union's calls:

Here's the idea: The Ultimate NBA Spoiled Superstar Dream Team Self-Reliance Barnstorm-tacular.

Here's what it means: a big, noisy yellow school bus of NBA All-Stars, buzzing into your town for 48 thrilling minutes this fall, playing in your gym, sleeping in your house, rummaging around your kitchen for Wheat Thins.

Sound crazy? That's because it is crazy. It's hiring-Ron-Metta-World-Peace-Artest-to-be-your-nanny crazy. But there's already been a lot of talk about elite NBA stars jetting off to Europe or Asia if the lockout drags on. According to the Los Angeles Times, Kobe Bryant could headline a barnstorming tour through China with a group of other professional players.

That's all very wise and globally-conscious and corporate sponsor-pleasing and..not very exciting-sounding.

But the Ultimate NBA Spoiled Superstar Dream Team Self-Reliance Barnstorm-tacular? It could be amazing, society-changing and alter the bratty culture of U.S. professional sports.

Imagine this: starting in November, a lineup of 15 basketball greats would motor around the U.S. playing 82 exhibition games against high schools, playground legends, intramural wanna-bes, geezer lawyer leagues, military teams, guys on unicycles, bears on unicycles and perhaps even Duke.

This idea isn't that revolutionary. Babe Ruth barnstormed. Satchel Paige barnstormed. Football players did it, and every rock band worth listening to.

Here's the rough roster: Kobe, LeBron James, Dirk Nowitzki, Kevin Garnett, Blake Griffin, Derrick Rose, Steve Nash, Maya Moore, Diana Taurasi, Kevin Durant, Dwight Howard, Dwyane Wade, Kevin Love, Jason Kidd—and Charles Barkley, just because it will be funny to watch Barkley huff around the floor.

Here's how it will be magic:

1. IT'S ALL FREE. No VIPs, brokers or scalpers. You sleep in a tent, wear a poncho in the pouring rain, eat turkey jerky and listen to AM radio. True fans only. First come, first served.

2. BAN ARENAS. Creaky high school gyms without air conditioning would be the best. Outdoor courts are perfect, too. Just no games in a joint with luxury boxes. Sell peanuts, popcorn. No valet parking or diet soft drinks.

3. NO TELEVISION. You're not there, you can't see it. ESPN doesn't get the rights. Sorry, Dickie V.

4. PHONE CHECK. Leave that smart phone at the door: you're going to actually watch the game, not take braggy "Look where I am!" photos for Twitter. No live-blogging either—we're yankin' the Wi-Fi.

5. NO SITTING. You have 15 magnificent basketball stars in your home town. Stand up! This isn't Miami.

6. NO HOTELS. Players sleep over at local houses. That's right: change the "Battlestar Galactica" sheets; LeBron's crashing in your guest room. And tomorrow morning before he gets his Pop-Tart, Dirk find a rake and clean the gutters

7. YELLOW BUS. Don't care if the pros rip out the old seats and replace them with Mies van der Rohe chairs. Just want to see pros in a yellow bus and hear them singing camp songs.

8. COACHING. Will leave this option to the players: they can either have no coach, or a 1981 Bobby Knight.

9. MEDIA POLICY. Before each game, the players will give a one-hour interview about dinosaurs to the local elementary school newspaper.

10. SCORING. Every pro basket is one point. Every non-pro basket is 10 points. That means if the pros beat you 78 to 8...you win. This will make the pros work.

Confession: this plan isn't perfect. It has holes. Agents will say it's impossible. That's what agents do—when they're not scouting Pee Wee football games. Teams will howl about the risk of injury. That's what teams do—when they're not trying to figure out ways to gouge you for another $1.50 on nachos.

But the long term benefits will be tremendous. Live professional basketball is disconnected from the average person; ticket prices are comically overpriced; too many arenas have become groggy with corporate entertaining. But the Ultimate Barnstorm-tacular could power into the country's skeptical heart. You don't think a footwear company would love to underwrite such a romantic excursion? And players? Wouldn't an unloved NBA star want to see his image rehabilitated by a barnstorming journey?

Just play along with the fantasy. Remember: a year ago, you were listening to people yammer on and on about LeBron's next destination.

Isn't this fantasy much more fun?