Getting Lucky: Why National Signing Day Matters

I get lucky with my wife the first Wednesday of February each year.

Though this is only our third year of marriage, she has already noticed the trend.

In the time we were dating, giving her something to think about on a random Wednesday would raise no alarm bells.  For those of you who have married, you know how random those Wednesdays occur.

“Really?” she says, not amused by the time on the clock face.

“C’mon babe,” I plead, “I want to start the day off right.”

“I was wondering why you made a big show of brushing your teeth last night.”

For the uninitiated, that is married sex in a hand basket.

By 6 AM in chilly KC I am Uber Dad: I have made lunch for our son, unloaded the dishwasher, changed and fed our 16 month old, and folded the clothes from the dryer.

I am so excited I even sing along with Disney’s “Imagination Movers” on TV.  I do not mind admitting it— after all—I got loved up by my wife this morning.

For those of you whose zeal for National Signing Day runs parallel to my own, there is little need for me to explain it.  You know.  You get it.

This piece is for those on the outside looking in who—like my wife—find the silliness of the day a sad testament to the angst of American manhood.

There are few genuine surprises in a man’s life after the age of about 24.  One is to not find out early the sex of your child before birth; to simply stand in the delivery room without a clue as to whether it is a boy or girl.  That is a special moment.

All the other surprises are bad: job loss, relative passed away, IRS audit, etc.

If you are a college football fan, however, NSD is the one day you get to look at the day and not know exactly how it is going to turn out.

You get to be five again and wonder what Santa delivered.  Anticipation runs amok; there is a sense of anxiety mixed with hope—which stops happening in a man’s life once he quits going to the bar to pick up women.  After that, anxiety becomes a disorder.

I am generally regarded as a low-keel, erudite individual with a knack for staying ahead of the curve.  As NSD approaches, though, I morph into a blog-rumor-acolyte with mood swings resulting from every “friend of their garbage man” post.

Gone are my analytical powers!

Gone are my emotional skills!

All of which combines to make NSD better than all the other days supposedly for me:

My birthday is more about my age catching up to my waist size.

At Christmas, I’m the chauffeur for treks to Central Illinois and West Texas.

Father’s Day is about new underwear.

But National Signing Day is just for me.  I get to experience the spectrum of emotions and do so about something that has no real consequence to the health or well-being of my family and friends.

A class full of two stars does not take bread from my table.

Today I get to pretend my life depends on where Rivals.com ranks a group of high schoolers.

There are enough people who are making life altering decisions today in college football.  Fans should not delude ourselves into thinking we’re among that group.

The wiser part of me will root for whomever signs and the coaches that sign them.

But that part is not in charge today.

Today is all about the surprise.

And honey, if you get around to reading this, I've got another one in store for you.