NFL playoff time is always filled with mixed emotions for me. It's the exponentially steep slope at which the excitement of the season climaxes, which is nice, but I can't help but think about will happen come February 4. What follows the end of the football season is pretty much a month of meaningless basketball (during which time I will attempt to feign interest by gambling on the games and inevitably depleting a large portion of my bank account), then MARCH MADNESS (over-aggressively fervent gambling that, most likely, will yield the same damage to my net worth), another month of meaningless NBA action (no gambling because of Lent. Just kidding, I have no idea when Lent is, I'm Jewish), then NBA playoffs (excuse to grow facial hair and claim "playoff beard.").
This is my long-winded way of saying I want to hold onto the next month as tightly as possible. Like Will Smith when he love-suffocated his dog in I Am Legend.
See that? Are you crying yet? If not, you're about to...
This is what my day has been like. The MLB Hall of Fame vote has been at the forefront of every sportscast, and now I have to look forward to hockey highlights getting interspersed into what would otherwise be PERFECTLY GOOD EPISODES OF SPORTSCENTER.
Seriously, fuck off. I hope someone invents a cure for aging and/or death and gives it only to Gary Bettman and Bud Selig so they run their sports into nonexistence.