Every year when the calendar turns to March, it happens. Brackets come out, spring training is moving right along, mock drafts are being released every hour, The Masters theme song is constantly playing in our heads, the NHL and NBA playoff races are hot as all hell. It’s paradise for a sports fan. I’m about to burn so much PTO that you’re gonna be able to see my couch from space.
Quick shoutout to the ladies, because it’s 2017, and chicks can dig sports just as hard, if not harder, than boys. Shoutout Brandi Chastain. Shoutout 1999. Shoutout Willennium. This piece is certainly gender inclusive. To all the pissbaby nerds out there who are dealing with a sports babe, you’re on notice as well.
It’s not that I’m not down to snuggle on the couch and rewatch Stranger Things and polish off a $9 bottle of chard with my bb. It’s that this is a beautiful cross section of the calendar when the stars align and I can finally groove that ass crevice into my sectional. This is really it. A month out of the year. If you can have fall and pumpkin patches, I can have Jim Nantz and Augusta.
I need to watch sweaty men bump into each other and budget at least what will amount to next month’s rent towards three brackets, a Masters Calcutta, NHL overs, horse racing and various prop bets that you don’t need to worry about. All I can say is that if just a little over 80 percent of them hit, daddy is taking us on a trip to Cabo in June. If they don’t? What do you mean “if they don’t?” Of course, they will! I can’t have this kind of negativity right now! Brian McGannon picks winners and winners only.
I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to put up with our shit right now. Bathing is optional. The things we eat will be utterly disgusting, but tell me you won’t be impressed watching a grown man with a waning metabolism eat an entire pizza plus wings over the course of 8 hours. Look, this couch is going to be occupado from 5 p.m. on Friday until you drag me off of it to get some vitamin D at 3 p.m. on Sunday.
Do I have a girlfriend right now? No, not at the moment. I recently may or may not have crashed and burned with a certain local news girl, but that’s neither here nor there. This fight is a noble one. I am standing up for my guys on the front lines of the cruelest war there is. The war of managing relationship balance. There’s Charlie everywhere, and I’m here to stand up for the boys/girls.
There very well could be a period of time where we forget that we’re in a relationship altogether. It’s not that we don’t appreciate you, it’s that our minds are occupied with far more important things than your mom’s current fight with one of your cousins about where the family reunion is going to be next year. Tell her it’s Cedar Point and that’s final.
Look, I’m sorry I went off on a tangent. It’s just the time change. We won’t mean half of the things we say. Once this is all over, there’ll only be 150 games left in the MLB season and a few boys trips we’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but that’s not important right now. We appreciate you. We do, but the real world can wait when DJ’s putting for birdie on 16, Kershaw is pitching a no-hitter or the scrappy team from the Mountain West can’t miss from long range against a 3 seed. Can’t deal with it. Too much on our plate.
I promise once this is all over that we can go to brunch with your friends, binge on some Gilmore Girls, split a bottle of Rex Goliath, use my Prime account to order face cream, whatever.
Your king must go to battle. A battle for our sanity. For all that is good about America. It’s only fair, it’s only just. Let us have this. It will be over soon and normalcy will return…until I start betting WNBA money lines in July. .
Image via TBS