The collective moan you hear this morning is the sound of girlfriends, wives and significant others of all we merry band of sports-crazy brothers. It’s been 25 days since the clock hit :00 on Super XLII. 25 days of general malaise as we entered into the abyss of sports fandom that is the month of February.
But, alas, ladies our time has come again. Our joy is your sorrow. The confluence of forces is coming together, unfortunately, none in your favor.
The early warning signs appeared late last night. Baseball highlights on SportsCenter. On Saturday, the calendar flips to March…and hither comes the madness. And, as we move further into spring, the NBA and NHL playoffs wait in the wings, biding time to form — the perfect storm.
Yes, men, we have served our time. We’ve collectively suffered through regular season NBA and NHL tilts, unwatchable Saturday afternoon Big Ten regular season matchups and the off-season sagas of Clemens, Pettite and others. Finally, our time has come. The time for re-engagement is here.
Over the next eight weeks, talk of conference tournaments, the proverbial bubble, opening day starters and playoff match-ups will serve to rekindle the flame of our sports psychosis. The weeks of every evening featuring a wondrous potpourri of sports-viewing pleasures is tantalizingly within reach.
The dreary emptiness of late winter is about to give way. We can’t wait. The women in our lives will soon hold on to only mere dreams of turning back the clock, grasping to the visions of taking their men out on dinner dates, romantic weekend trips and spontaneous shopping excursions that could only take place during the month of February. It is time. Things now change.
For my lovely fiancee, she can at least relish in the notion that her man has recently stepped up to a full Mets season ticket package. And, of course, there is solace in the notion that I continue to have this blog. What’s that? Yes, the collective groan is getting louder…ahhh, the sounds of spring.
PS: Yes, we are making broad generalizations. I know there are certainly women out there who have also been suffering just as much as the fellas. I just don’t know any of them…
Filed Under: Uncategorized
About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.