Spring is here, and it's not warm enough.
March Madness is here, and all I can think about is the NBA Playoffs.
The NHL is here and nearing the end of its regular season, but I can't stand watching it because of the rule changes.
Still, certain sports have come together to create the perfect time of year when following them is a full-time fantasy job. And yet, I'm terribly unhappy and dissatisfied with my watching experience.
For starters, I haven't gotten up off the couch in about 72 hours. I make the occasional fridge trip, but every time I open it, it's just a reminder that I need to order another pizza.
I have to admit, it hadn't hit me how pathetic I was until the fourth day commenced, and the deadline of this column crept in. I decided it was in my interest to get moving again.
So I went to Ruby Tuesday's for a burger, and the well-laid out salad bar. This took care of my hunger, but not my sports cynicism.
It all starts with this year's NCAA tournament. I've watched a number of great games, but they all seem meaningless because none of them are my teams. To make matters worse, the largest story - George Mason's Cinderella run - has been agonizing to watch because the Patriots beat my alma mater, Michigan State, and because I watched them pounce AU by 40 points at the BB&T Classic earlier this season. And being that I covered the AU men's basketball beat this season, I have illusions of AU making the tournament next year. This is a dangerous illusion, even though the rest of the Patriot League is losing key starters, and AU returns everyone but team cheerleader Craig Weinstein.
Then there's a girlfriend problem: I have one. Which is normally great, but terribly confusing when she's trying to ask why I don't talk to her anymore just as Tiger Woods putts for another championship. And the situation gets worse when even she notices that hockey is the only sport I'll willingly mute to listen to her.
Luckily for her though, I'm not much interested in hockey these days. What once was a powerful game that demanded precision and toughness is now a game decided by referees and speed. Spring nights spent alternating NBA and NHL games are long over, and all that's left is an expensive cable bill and a trip downtown for the cherry blossom festival - not my choice.
When I do manage to snuggle into my cushy couch, I still have my NBA - the spring season's saving grace. It's a professional game requiring strong individual defenders for a strong defensive team, and of course, players with play-making ability incomprehensible to a 5-foot-9 person like myself.
So even though spring is here and the trees are blossoming, it's still too cold to go outside. At least that's what I'm telling my girlfriend until the end of the playoffs. Wish me luck.
