Trapped in the monotony of April sports

The month of April is tough on many a sports fan. The memory of playoff football begins to fade, and after surviving the delirium of March Madness, we find ourselves at a crossroads where the sports world loses some of its steam. Some of us tend to get a little philosophical and existential about our obsessions. We reevaluate exactly why so much time is spent watching so many games in what is essentially a never-ending cycle. The finality of the Super Bowl and the Final Four is an illusion — there are no true ends. Each end is but another beginning.

Every April, there is a gap in that cycle. The NBA is gearing up for playoff time, but the race is inconsequential, as only three or four teams have a realistic chance to win it all. Major League Baseball's six division races started a little over a week ago, but the season's extended infancy period is never much more than a distraction — in April, each game, each at-bat, each hit, each pitch, is so meaningless that it is impossible to get too worked up over the national pastime just yet. Other minor events, from the start of Major League Soccer season to the NFL Draft, likewise fail to invigorate.

So what is the sports fan to do? In a philosophical and existential moment, he may come to renounce sports altogether. Imagine that! We are all taught, from the moment we can understand our parents, that there are overarching goals in life — go to school, get into college, graduate, get a job, marry, have kids, retire. But the sports fan's outlook is very different.

Take, for example, the college football fan. It is only after the season's final bowl game that everything comes into perspective. New Year's Eve is Dec. 31, but the last college football competition for eight months is usually a couple of days later. The college football fan, then, makes his resolutions when the rest of humanity is already forgetting its promises for the New Year. Maybe after one season, in a quiet moment following the final bowl game, he realizes the errors of his ways and renounces college football once and for all.

"What a waste of time it all is! There's always another season! I would be better served if I focused on graduating and finding a job."

Renunciation and conversion to a more normal form of life is not a real possibility, though. In reality, what happens is that the sports fan remains a fervent fan, but he is generally a little less happy in the off-season. Some of us may try to turn the season into a year-round event; for the college football fan, there is always the scouting combine, Signing Day for the new recruits and the Draft. But there is nevertheless a hole in his life; he harbors a sense of loss that cannot be understood by those who have not experienced the same feeling.

In April, there is an amplification of loss in the sports fan's world. Significant NBA playoff games are a month-and-a-half away; the meaningful time in baseball's divisional races is a long way off. Even the weather stinks — every year, we're yearning for warmth but instead God bestows upon us wind and rain and only a glimpse of the summer sun. There is no way out. There is nowhere for the sports fan to turn.

"Yeah, I had some fun in the past," the sports fan might murmur to himself over a half-empty pint of beer. "And yeah, the future looks bright, but what is there to do now?"

Imagine an Ohio State fan, who has undergone national championship losses in football and basketball in the past year — both at the hands of the Florida Gators. Should he drown his sorrows in all-night binges at crummy bars? Where, for that matter, can the victorious Florida fan turn to reclaim that initial championship joy? That Moss, he sure can get to the quarterback, he tells his friends four months after Florida defensive end Jarvis Moss got to the Ohio State quarterback. That Horford, he sure can rebound the basketball, he tells his same, weary friends in the next breath, referring to Gator basketball star Al Horford.

So in April, if you see a guy walking around with his head down or you notice your neighbor sitting out on the roof and gazing into the setting sun night after night, be sure to give him a pat on the back and an "I'm with you buddy" — even if you're not.