Welcome to February: The Deserted Wasteland for Sports Fans

There are a few times in a year where depression sets in, despite anything said or done. It happens to all of us. Times where hope feels miles away. The wind blows colder. You get more irritable with others. Work days seem to last 15 hours. Traffic is worse. People honk their horns on narrow streets more often, deafening pedestrians, causing dogs to bark incessantly and children to scream bloody murder. Terrible things seem to pile up. I have already imagined what will take place:

1) Justin Bieber comes out with a new album, covering the Allman Brothers in falsetto with Taylor Swift and other modern "artists." Ladies and gentlemen, on the stage to perform Midnight Rider......Lady Gaga and Nickelback. I could see Gregg just set his Hammond organ on fire and light a cigarette on the burning ashes.

2) American Idol signs on for 17 more seasons and the new judges are Kim Kardashian, Diane Feinstein and Jesse Jackson.

Jesse Jackson: "Contextually, that performance was perfunctory and prognostificacious." (Feinstein nods, Kim is still trying to figure out how to write a "K" in cursive)

Contestant: "What? You people make no sense."

Jesse Jackson: "What do you mean, YOU PEOPLE?"

3) MTV comes out with MTV3, a network solely dedicated to Jersey Shore reruns, Bjork music videos and eternal Kurt Cobain worship.

4) Wal-Mart, McDonald's and Apple merge into one giant company, thereby decreasing the per capita IQ of this country by 43 points and increasing the sale of sweatpants, houseshoes, Monster Energy drinks and Mountain Dew.

5) The NFL and NCAA, under immense pressure, decides that football will be two-hand touch in 2013. The UGA Administration bans tailgating altogether, moves all our games to Tuesday nights and gives half of the athletic budget to the rowing team.

Your steak is overcooked, your coffee is lukewarm and one of your headphones stops working while you are going for a run. Just inexplicable horrors run rampant in your life. Yes, y'all, I am talking about the month of February for sports fans.

I have lived through 31 Februarys in my life, each one worse than the last. Nothing happens in February. Football is gone. Baseball is a non-entity until March. Basketball is still in the midseason doldrums before their playoff runs. I think 37 people attended the last Hawks home game and that was a bunch of youth recreation teams who got in free. NASCAR has yet to begin, but quite frankly, it is no longer interesting to me. I did attempt to watch soccer last week at a bar in Manhattan but I instantly went into a boredom coma, fell out of my stool and landed in somebody's guacamole dip. When I was in Ireland last Fall, I watched soccer in a pub there, amongst the "hooligans" along the River Liffey in Dublin. It was Manchester United versus Everton (I think). The final score of the 2 hour and 45 minute game was 0-0. Basically, it was a cross country meet with a ball added into the mix. It got so bad that I started playing a drinking game by myself. Every time I thought about throwing myself into the river, I took a drink. 14 Guinness pints lost their lives that evening. These Irishmen were going NUTS over this game. It was like watching an oil puddle form in a Wal-Mart parking lot. To make matters worse the next morning, the local paper had a three page write-up on how Manchester almost scored once in the first ten minutes of the game. I looked at my waitress, Maggie Shaughnessy O'Callahan, and ordered a shot of Bailey's for my coffee.

Soccer needs three things to be interesting, if you ask me:

1) Fighting: At least once, a slide tackle needs to result in fisticuffs. A brouhaha. A donnybrook. A bench clearing slugfest. Penalize the offender(s) in soundproof boxes next to each other, however, allow them access to dry erase markers so they may write their feelings on the box for all to see until they get out.

2) More Points: Extra points for longer kicks. Bicycle kicks are worth ten points. If the goalie scores with a cross field kick, the game is over, you lose.

3) Shorten and narrow the playing field by 20 yards: These guys are 765 miles away from the goal, no wonder they never score. I swear I saw a coach send a telegram to a player during the World Cup because he was so far downfield. If you want a gigantic American audience, it is not hard to entice us. We want scoring, blood, possibly a fight or two and scantily clad cheerleaders to shoot t-shirts out of a bazooka.

Signing Day does occur on February 6th, but even that has become a non-entity in the life of a Georgia fan this season. We signed the majority of our class in December during the early enrollee signing period. Our remaining commitments are firm and have no intention of switching. While this is a good thing, it does not lend much to excitement on Signing Day. The majority of the uncommitted players we are still pursuing have written us off at this point, much to the chagrin of myself and about 2,500 Dawgventers who have been gnashing teeth and blaming Richt for everything from the apparent loss of Georgia's "Mr. Football" Alvin Kamara, to the Kennedy assassination and the Vietnam War. We get our share of great players but we always seem to be on the outside looking in for these five star "holdouts." The same 4-5 schools are always in the mix for their services and these schools are normally at the precipice of NCAA sanctions or have already been nailed in the past.

In the last five years, the recruiting cycle in the SEC has become a form of cultural prostitution. The NCAA appears to be powerless to stop it and too unscrupulous to handle an investigation with propriety. Kids transfer more than ever before, creating these football factory high schools and killing the "hometown" feel of a Friday night tilt in Smalltown, USA. Mark my words, in Georgia, you will see the same 12-14 schools rotate as state champions every year. There will be no more Cinderella stories or diamonds in the rough. The Internet is a fountain of knowledge that needs to be turned off. I know more about these kids than I EVER wanted to know. I pay $99 per year to subscribe to Dawgvent and the content has dramatically changed since I started in 2004. What happened to the good ol days of 40 times, vertical leaps and cone drills? Now, thanks to Twitter, I know what Laremy Tunsil's girlfriend looks like Precious after an all night eating binge at Dunkin Donuts. Thanks to Twitter, I know Davin Bellamy was in a dorm room in Oregon with a bong (gasp!). Facebook let me know that Da'Rick Rogers likes to drink beer with fat white girls, Johnny Manziel likes to gamble on Indian reservations in the offseason, and Laquon Treadwell appeared to be $1,000 richer after leaving Oxford, Mississippi last time. Frankly, on the scale of "things I care about," the personal lives of 17 year olds falls below the following:

1) Did I download the live version of "My Baby Daddy" by B-Rock and the Bizz?

2) The number of times "Freebird!" has been yelled in the state of Alabama

3) My lamentation over my failure to buy a Hypercolor T-shirt in 1991

4) The 4,598,234 pigeons that just relieved themselves on Grand Central Station

5) The ignition timing of a 1983 Camaro

Money changes hands. Illegal promises are made. If this was a civil trial, there would a preponderance of evidence against so many programs. Those who appear to be guilty are never caught (in a timely fashion), those who play by the rules get left behind and the majority of programs, contrary to past years, now must "impress" the recruit. Kids leave their home state because they get better "deals" at other schools. Words like"bagman" and "under the table" have replaced "boy, he is fast" in recruiting discussions. Alabama picked up a commitment from Reuben Foster, a five star linebacker, yesterday. During his incoherent speech about why he chose the Tide, he used the term "business decision." That embodies all that is wrong with the state of recruiting in the southeast. When I was 18, the only "business decision" I made was whether I needed to buy the $0.79 Snickers or the $1.19 Snickers. The excitement of what used to be a wonderful day has been waning for me. I will still keep up with the days events but I'll only check the Dawgvent 12,537 times instead of my usual 19,435.

As you can see, I like to make lists when I am depressed. I am just going to bide my time until March gets here. There is plenty to do. Pitchers and catchers are reporting soon. College basketball will get fired up and the greatest spectacle in sports will ensue once again. The Walking Dead will return from its midseason break. The Beacon Theater has put out their new lineup for the Spring and it is going to be unreal. Yes will be in concert on April 9th. Brit Floyd, an awesome Pink Floyd cover band, will also perform in April. The most underrated guitarist in the universe, Joe Bonamassa, will be here in May. Most importantly, the Allman Brothers Band will be here in T-minus 23 days. They will spend half of March inundating the Upper West Side with 17 minute jam sessions, guest stars, Derek's unbelievable slide guitar work and Gregg belting out the words as only he can. I have already purchased tickets for a Saturday show and I plan for my "inner Cassville" to come out in full force. So, friends, I leave you with a final, more happy list.

Brad's Top 5 Most Underrated Allman Brothers songs:

5) Don't Want You No More
4) Little Martha
3) Hot Lanta
2) Mountain Jam
1) Dreams

I encourage each of you to listen to these wonderful songs and enjoy them. I guarantee they will brighten a cold, dark February day before you can say "I was born in the backseat of a Greyhound bus."