Have you ever noticed that every non-Christmas song that involves lyrics about snow is depressing? Of course, the simple reason for this is, well, snow is depressing. It's cold. It's wet. It's dreary. Quite frankly, snow blows.
Oh sure, snow around Christmas-time is all cute and cuddly, but come late-January and early-February, I think we are all about fed up with the whole winter thing. White Christmas be damned.
There is no place where the doldrums of late winter are more evident than the sports world.
Now, I think it is fairly obvious that I am primarily a baseball fan; so, naturally, I am biased. But I defy anyone to lay claim to a bleaker time of the sports calendar than late winter.
For me, surviving on football is merely a necessity in my sports-obsessed brain. If I could watch the Twins play year-round, and completely forgo the Vikings season entirely, I would gladly make that trade.
(Granted, having said that, I went on one of the most ridiculously long and loud profanity laced tirades I can remember when Brett Favre threw his interception. I believe it was a sequence that involved approximately 324 "fucks" 373 "shits" (the words, not the actions) 312 "goddamnits," and 1 very confused and frightened brother's girlfriend -- who just happened to be on the phone with him at the time and heard me yelling. But I digress.)
The fact is, while I love following the Twins offseason, (especially when they actually make moves) nothing can possibly compare to the actual season itself. Basically, as I sit here on February 9th, staring out my window at a cold, wet, dreary, snow-soaked tundra, I have to convince myself that there is a light at the end of the proverbial winter tunnel.
I guess the only thing to do now is look forward to the fact that pitchers and catchers report in 12 days, and in just over two months, the Twins will be playing meaningful baseball. And, better yet, meaningful outdoor baseball.
It can't come soon enough.