The Dead Zone

As the NBA and NHL are in the midst of their ridiculously long playoffs and MLB has started to settle into another season of haves and have-nots, I feel the pending arrival of "The Dead Zone".

Of course, as a child it didn't matter. Who cared if SportsCenter was only a half hour long? It was all boring baseball highlights anyway--a sport we would much rather play than watch on TV. We were celebrating our freedom from homework and bedtime.

However, as the years have worn on and our energy level has wained, often in direct proportion to our waistlines expanding, the summer for many of us has become a time of forced withdrawal. We long for the sounds of pads popping, sneakers squeaking, and of nets flexing--all bringing the hope of our favorite team winning it all. For those of us who's teams are still alive in the playoffs, we have the luxury of delaying the inevitable withdrawal. For those that have to quit cold-turkey, the angst may already be setting in.

There is something a little embarrassing about being jazzed up for OTAs, summer leagues, and spring games. Many scour the internet for news on how the ESPN Top 100 are doing at summer camps and whether they have decided their futures yet, just so we can feel a hint of the intoxicant we so crave. We beg beat writers for any information they can gleam from mini-camps and "inside sources".

Our wives and significant others often enjoy "The Dead Zone" as they know this is the time for weekend projects and gatherings. A time when our honey-do lists can no longer be wriggled out of by an impassioned plea to see the game. It is now that we should be putting in the time and energy into building good will for future pleas. For as much as we dread it, "The Dead Zone" allows us to remind them why we're worth it when they become weekend widows.

So to all of my fellow junkies, as bad as it gets always remember that this time of withdrawal only makes the high that much sweeter.