Time flows on, whether we’re ready or not. Sometimes we need a nudge.

The current seasons are college hoops, hockey and Lent. Yes, I’ve noticed daffodils and crocuses boldly poking their little green shoots aboveground in front of my house, but spring has felt more like a distant promise than an emerging reality.

Right now, I want a certain group of young men to focus on defense and free throws, and – as Kansas City lacks a hockey team – I’m trying to figure out which NHL team to pull for in the playoffs. Baseball is on the far edge of the radar.

But higher powers are at play here, by which I mean television. They always seem to show “Field of Dreams” on the weekend before Opening Day, and I always seem to get caught up in it.

After Amy Madigan gets all righteous on the townsfolk, after James Earl Jones gives The Speech about baseball, after Kevin Costner reconnects with his dad – after I dry the tears – then I’m good to go. Bring on the baseball.

The powers that be did it again this week.

Life is busy, and I’m keenly aware that Sunday is March 1 and therefore the opening day of trout season and therefore one of the high holy days of the year. I plan to be there when the whistle blows at 6:30 a.m., and I plan to catch my limit.

But I haven’t been as attentive to this as one should be. Half of the enjoyment is taking time to plan and look forward to the event itself, to imagine the sweet early-morning, early-spring air. Or sleet. Sometimes you get sleet.

I’ve been too busy being consumed with this season, keeping up with those beloved Missouri Tigers while taking in Comcast’s meager offering of hockey games and, oh yeah, earning a living, being a dad, being a husband, buying groceries, getting the car fixed and all that.

So the higher powers intervened. The other night they decreed an airing of “A River Runs Through It” while I was channel surfing.

I caught the two best scenes, which are near the end, and that was enough.

The first is Brad Pitt’s glorious struggle with a trout the size of your leg. He wins, and life is good.

The second scene jumps our narrator and main character ahead almost to the end of life. His wife is gone, his brother is long gone. He is alone but still fishes the big river.

Some friends are telling him that maybe he should let that go, but he won’t. It’s his connection to the world, to God, to family, to memory, to everything. If your friends don’t get that, I hear myself saying to the television, don’t even waste time explaining. Just fish until they pry the fly rod from your hands.

Two good movies. Baseball and fishing, fathers and sons, triumph and loss. The turning of the seasons, whether we’re ready or not.

Bring on the warmer weather. I’ve had enough snow, sleet and gray skies. I’m ready for trout.