Wednesday, January 12, 2011

A Midwinter Night's Discontent

Forgive me if I am the only person outside of the Fort Worth, Texas zip code who finds this funny but I cannot help but look at this and smile. Or if I am the only person outside of the Columbus, Ohio zip code who thinks that at some point during this off-season the consummate gentleman who runs the football program for the Buckeyes (and just to and try to find someone who says a bad thing about the principled manner in which Coach Tressel does his job) is not going to want a do-over on his decision to win a battle but possibly lose a war in the process.

At this point in time - with its flame finally extinguished after flickering on for at least nine days beyond its natural expiration date - I care not if you forgive me for saying that I am ecstatic that the college football season is finally over. I love college football. I pay for the Fox Regional Sports Network package on my DirectTV simply so I can watch college football from all around the nation on Saturday afternoons when I get home from work. Yet, I cannot shake the fact that I have grown to detest each season by its end for the fact that each seems to drag on more interminably than the one before. Thus, in spite of no new episode of "House" on Fox and no new episodes of the CBS Monday Night Comedies to hold my attention, I watched scant little of the BCS Championship Game between Auburn and Oregon. While it was nice to have the nation's attention centered on Arizona for something as benign as college sports, I could not drag myself to the television to watch. Maybe next year.

Perhaps it is not entirely the fault of the gods of college football for my feeling of exquisite boredom (and a continent away from California no less!). Thus far this winter here in the State of Concrete Gardens they have gotten precious little assistance from the weather gods. Whether it has been every week - or it simply feels as if it has - I do not know but I know that we all drove home from work in my neck of the woods under some sort of "DANGER! DANGER!" weather alert, which remains in effect as we make the great migration to our various and sundry places of business this morning. By my admittedly inexact calculation, this is the 1187th such warning that has been in effect since Thanksgiving. Enough already. I am already exhausted from dealing with winter. I suppose that in my one size fits all anger I have tossed college football into the pot of things that have f***ing worn me out, right along with inclement weather, Brett Favre and the perpetually-teary eyed new Speaker of the House. Enough already, all of you.

I find myself watching the daily countdown of days until pitchers and catchers report to spring training? I am a Yankees fan. You can gauge the depth of my wintry discontent by the fact that I am actually looking forward to seeing Captain Underachiever and the rest of the battery's component parts make their initial appearance in Tampa. Of course, by mid-June I shall be sick of looking at him, especially if I am only seeing him 4+ innings at a time as it seemed I did last season. Here in winter's dog days (does that make them chilly dogs I wonder), beggars cannot be choosers.


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