There are two months of the year I hate. One of them is February — that time of the year when winter stops being festive and starts trying to kill you. The other one is April.

You know how it is. 3:30 p.m., 72 degrees outside, 128 degrees inside your car, birds are singing, everyone’s driving around with music playing loud, flowers are popping up, and you’re heading out to the local baseball or softball game. A splendid afternoon.

As you’re pulling on your shoes, you glimpse your jacket, lying over there on the floor where you tossed it three days ago. You immediately decide you won’t need it, that your friends will laugh at you for even bringing it.

“Duuuuuude, what’s with the jaaaaacket?” they’ll ask, implying that you’re a total lily, or worse, some kind of momma’s boy. As if they never spent a day of their lives in Illinois during the cruel, moody month of April.

Robert Frost knew:

“The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.”

By Robert Frost (”Two Tramps In Mud Time”).

April’s great for poets. It’s hell on sports writers. Until you’ve sat huddled on the end of some rural school’s idea of a ‘bleacher,’ during a 9-1 blowout, while a 40-mph wind from every direction rips at your notepad, turns your cheeks purple and makes you wish you were never born, you haven’t been truly miserable.

But then it gets worse.

You glance pathetically over at the brave souls sharing this local sports experience with you. They’re sitting on booster blankets, huddled in a group, all wearing parkas, gloves and knit caps while slurping hot chocolate. And one of them points at you and asks …

“Duuuuuude, where’s your jaaaaacket?”

This is why I hate April.

By the way, if you’d like to read more poems about the month of April, go here:
http://www.riverdeep.net/current/2000/04/front.140400.april.jhtml

Just don’t go telling everybody I gave you the link.

Got a call from Illinois College skipper Jay Eckhouse Tuesday night. He wanted to remind us that his baseball team will be playing the University of Illinois this week in Champaign. In case anyone would like to drive over and see the game.

Immediately, I start angling for the story.

“So how many runs you gonna beat ‘em by?” I ask Eckhouse.

“Excuse me?”

“How bad are you guys gonna beat the U of I?”

Eckhouse picks up on my angle, but doesn’t take the bait. “We’re gonna show up and play hard,” he says, chuckling.

“And in doing so, you’re gonna beat them by how many runs?” I ask again.

Seriously, though, the IC baseball squad is no laughingstock — especially not to Division III and Midwest Conference foes. The Blueboys currently sport a 12-5 overall record and sit atop the MWC’s South Division, at 3-1. They’re one run away from being undefeated in league play, after splitting a twin bill with arch-rival Monmouth on April 5, winning 4-3 and losing 9-8. This Saturday, IC will host the Fighting Scots for a pair of crucial nine-inning games.

Eckhouse and his troops would really like your support. And they do deserve it. Maybe you’re more a fan of the high school scene. That’s fine. Several of IC’s players, most notably Clint Wherley (Beardstown) and Jared Thoele (Springfield Sacred Heart-Griffin) were stars on the high school scene a short time ago. Now they’re part of a Blueboy program that’s stayed pretty solid under Eckhouse, but is still reaching for its first outright MWC title.

In other words, there’s plenty of room on this bandwagon, and the ride could be a lot of fun. Climb aboard.