Forget - if that is even possible - the fact that the Villanova Wildcats are national champions.
Forget 'The Process,' which will actually be a little easier today now that Sam Hinkie has stepped down as GM of the Sixers.
Forget the fact that the Phillies now have had two great efforts by their starting pitchers - and have exactly zero wins to show for it. Are we really going to have to watch this bullpen all summer?
Forget the fact that the Flyers offense suddenly is MIA as their grip on that last playoff spot gets a little more perilous after getting shut out by the Red Wings last night.
Forget Doug Pederson and the Eagles. The draft is not for a few weeks.
Forget all of it.
The best sports event of the year starts today.
It's Masters weekend.
OK, so I'm biased. I'm a golf nut. I know that the answer to my nasty snap hook off the tee is waiting in that next bucket of balls at the range.
But this weekend is not meant for playing, or practicing, which may not be a bad thing since temperatures are expected to be in the mid-40s all weekend.
This weekend is meant for watching. I will be deposited on the sofa watching what is easily the most beautiful setting in sports.
If the spectacular setting of Augusta National was not enough, there is the Final Nine on Sunday, which nearly always delivers some of the best drama in sports, Kris Jenkins and his buzzer-beating antics not withstanding.
I have never set foot on that fabled landscape. It is on my ever-growing bucket list. I am told by everyone who has ever been there that the view on TV is deceiving, that the hills are much steeper than you might imagine.
I will watch. And dream. Of someday driving up Magnolia Lane, and seeing the azaleas and rhododendrons first hand.
It is another sure sign of spring, with summer not far behind. A signal that it's time to break out the sticks.
And get to work fixing that snap hook.
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