How’d you enjoy that Super Bowl, sports fans? Well, drink in the agonizingly enduring post-game analysis marathon. Seriously, enjoy it, because the long winter of sports-viewing discontent has officially begun.
Major conference tournaments don’t start for nearly a month. It’s still too early for bubble talk. Face it, you’re staring a cold, soulless month of sports right in the face. In a matter of days, you’ll be begging for Lions-Chiefs or the Jackass.com Who-Gives-a-F Bowl. But, for now, emptiness, longing, despair.
We collectively stand at the precipice of an interminable month. No four-week span is as dreaded as February. It is a period of time so devoid of any meaningful sports-related entertainment that we are rendered virtually defenseless against our wives, girlfriends or significant others who enthusiastically snatch back the remote with renewed vigor and turn on Grey’s Anatomy with a smug grin. My wife-to-be relishes in that moment, because she knows. She realizes I am defeated.
What can I do? Demand that we watch the Knicks-Grizzlies? Argue the entertainment merits of regular-season hockey? Hell, I wouldn’t even subject myself to Saturday afternoon Big Ten hoops. I’d rather vacuum and wash the dishes than watch Michigan St. face Indiana. Out shopping and gallivanting all over the city we shall go, as nary a pitch will be tossed in the month of February. We don’t even have the World Baseball Classic and pride for country to pull out of our bucket of tricks until March.
So, for anyone complaining about Sunday’s big game for any reason quit your bellyaching. You’ve got plenty more to really be pissed about now. Enjoy the Daytona 500, the NBA All-Star Game, the PBR semis and….Well, at least you’ve got the AFL to fill the February void…or not.
I believe it was the poignant long-haired rockers of my youth, Cindarella, who once crooned “Don’t Know What You’ve Got (Til It’s Gone). Amen, brothers. A-freakin-men.
See you all in March. We’ll be in hibernation for a few weeks.
Ed Note: Not really, but it’s for effect OK? Just go with it.
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.