Daylight Savings, March Madness and Tiger

We've had an abnormally cold winter here in the Sunshine State. All I have to do is look out my window and survey my ravaged landscaping to know that. Been here 12 years; never had a winter this cold for this long. Global warming - are you kidding? Of course, El Nino gets the blame, and for someone who DOES believe man has caused an accelerated warming of our planet, I have to admit I've been taken aback by our Florida winter anomoly this year. I mean, as if going broke in this crappy economy wasn't enough, now I have to find the resources to replace half the foliage around my little castle. Bad to worse; isn't that the way it always seems to go?

Finally two weeks ago we were prescribed our annual dose of hope with the onset of Daylight Savings Time, and I couldn't have been more pleased. When Congress extended the length of Daylight Savings a couple years ago, who knew it would be the last truly intelligent and worthwhile decision that venerable body would make! Daylight Savings, like the delicate and beautiful crocus, signals the onset of spring, and with it comes a feeling of renewal and optimism unlike any other time of the year. Bring it on!

Daylight Savings also signals the onset of March Madness and the build-up to the Masters. For a sports junkie like me, nursing my football season hangover, it doesn't get much better. My beloved Buckeyes made the field once again, and as a number-two seed to boot! But alas, even the national player of the year couldn't carry an entire team in the end against the scrappy Tennessee Volunteers, and bowed out in the round of 16. Nonetheless, life is good I tell you. We can all root for Butler. Go Bulldogs! No sooner than the fervor of March Madness will subside, lo and behold, the azaleas of Augusta will beckon and the year's first golf major will be upon us. Yes, Tiger will be there, rising from his self-imposed hybernation like Punxsutawney Phil to see whether Mother Nature will be kind or six more weeks of hell will be thrust upon him.

You'll not find judgment here for El Tigre. His personal life holds no interest for me. What the man does with 14 clubs and a little white Titlist is all I care about. It's the stuff of legend. I consider myself blessed to have witnessed the two greatest golfers of the modern era work their links magic during my lifetime - Tiger and The Golden Bear (a fellow Buckeye, by the way). When Tiger steps inside those ropes I, for one, will not be wondering whether his wife, estranged or otherwise, is among the crowd. I will only wonder whether his otherworldly mental acuity will reach its peak amid Herculean distractions, and after a four-month layoff. Will he shankopotomous off the first tee or stripe one down the middle about 315? Will Rae's Creek suck in his first approach to #12? When it comes to sports, you want drama? The Masters should provide drama aplenty this year - at least on Thursday and Friday. And should he make the cut - and why shouldn't he - we can settle in for what could be the greatest show on earth. I mean who else, by simply announcing his return to competitive anything could actually cause CBS' stock to go up! Love 'im or hate 'im, the man moves the meter.

So, as I publish this post, outside my window, beyond the brown, frayed edges of my cold-damaged flora, a cloudless blue sky beckons while the mercury inches its way toward 80. My old fishin' buddy, Ron, just phoned to remind me that tomorrow is the first day of grouper season, so it looks like we'll be playing a little hooky tomorrow. Yep, with temps pushing ochocinco, 0% chance of precip and calmer winds forecast, you'll find us about 60 miles out in the Gulf, not just wishin' we were fishin', but actually doin' it for a change! Ah, Spring! You make me smile. Until next blog, as always, I'm . . .

. . .Wishin' I Was Fishin'