Ah, the first weekend in April. The time of year when college students (and more importantly, college alumni) sit around and lament the fact that their school did not, in fact, win a major athletic national championship this year.

We're talking football and men's basketball, of course. No other sports matter. Sure, if your school happens to be Lake Superior State, you might concern yourself with hockey, but in the grand scheme of things, only two college sports matter. Everything else is non-revenue. Look at it this way: If your team wins a title in football or men's basketball, you can burn down the campus and everyone will call it school spirit. If your fencing team wins nationals, you can't even light a cigarette in the student union.

My school, the University of Missouri, has never won a national championship in football or men's basketball. MU did win the 1954 NCAA baseball title and also the 1965 men's indoor track championship(woo-hoo!), but other than that, well, have you heard about our fine School of Journalism?

This made me think. A lot of universities in "major" conferences have failed to win in football and men's basketball, right? Well, no. MU is in the Big 12 conference (I refuse to use the copyrighted "Big XII" designation for a variety of reasons, all of them having to do with the issue of general stupidity). Of those 12 teams, only MU, Iowa State, Texas Tech and Baylor have failed to hit the jackpot. It gets worse. Iowa State can claim scads of national wrestling titles--which is demented and sad, yet social. And Texas Tech won a women's basketball title a few years back. Baylor? I dunno. What would David Koresh do? (Fire, fire!)

In the current ACC, 7 of the 9 schools have won men's basketball or football crowns. Eight of 12 teams in the SEC have done likewise. There's a reason these groups of universities are called "major" conferences. MU may play in the big leagues, but it's the equivalent of the manager/waterboy.

Strangely enough, that's cool with me. I'm a big sports fan, and I root for my team with as much vigor as anyone (well, most anyone), but I refuse to allow my devotion to take over my life. I know a guy who used to lock himself in his house for three days whenever England lost a friendly. Losing in the European Championships was good for four or five days, and after the PK loss in the 1990 World Cup, I think he went into hiding for a week or so. I use the past tense here because think he got married, which is the sort of thing that has a remote chance of reforming such silly behavior.

I've never been that honed in to my teams. There was a time when a particularly bad or big loss would bum me out for a few hours, but I don't recall any school or work time lost to petty moping. I like to watch sports, but I've always been more interested in playing ineptly than watching. I can rattle off statistics like any other dork, but I don't play in fantasy leagues. Those folks are scary.

Tomorrow night, Georgia Tech or Connecticut will break its fans hearts. Fans of the winning team will rejoice and burn down their campus. UConn students will likely set fires either way--spring hasn't exactly arrived up there yet. Nonetheless, the academic year's basket of "winners" will be full, and the rest of us will be consigned to the "loser" bin.

Down here in my corner of the New South, all the Dukies are in mourning. Carolina fans are bummed that the mere presence of Roy Williams on their sideline did not, in fact, bring another trophy. And last Friday, the chancellor of N.C. State announced that she is moving to San Diego. I don't think her leaving has anything to do with the men's basketball team's meltdown against Vanderbilt, but you never know.

Hearts will scar over. Flowers will bloom. Mosquitoes will spread West Nile. And somehow, life will go on.

Hey, wait a minute. Did someone just say "play ball?" Hot damn!

Jon Worley hopes to teach his two-year-old son Max how to throw a curve ball by the end of the summer.