January is a special time of year. Things are new. Possibilities abound. Hope sprouts through the thick blanket of snow.

Beyond people’s natural desire to see the best at the start of the year, football fans have another mechanism to instill hope: the transfer window.

With the transfer window, contending teams seek a push for glory, and struggling sides look for players to rejuvenate a tired squad. For fans both dreaming of trophies and those fearing a nightmare campaign this means checking and rechecking transfer rumor mongers in hopes that they will see some golden glimmer of hope peeking in between the blurry lines of newsprint.

Reasonable lose all logic this time of year. So it reminds me of a favorite phrase about truth from the writer John Fowles which I interpreted thusly:

There are three kinds of people: those so stupid that they believe anything; those intelligent enough to doubt everything; and those truly wise enough to accept everything.

Let me explain.

Lots of people can believe freely and fully. Belief is fun. It helps us imagine freely and realize our dreams. Believing that pandas are right around the corner makes each day a little richer in possibilities. Just as believing that Mario Balotelli, the recent all-world striker would leave bitterly racist Brescia for bitterly cold Minnesota makes the chances of our local team much brighter.

But belief can be foolish. If you both go to kindergarten calling raccoons “trash pandas” because you believed your dad, your belief would seem silly. (Particularly to me, which is why I call them that.) In the same way believing Mario Balotelli is about to join the local eleven will only leave you looking as ridiculous as if you cut your hair in that style only he can pull off.

Those who abandon blind belief often find that doubt is satisfying. Doubting what you hear allows for a buoyant pride when you are right and others are wrong. It’s naturally gratifying to be validated in your skepticism amongst the faithful. In our examples, this could include telling your old man he’s wrong, or swiftly deflating delusions of grandeur among fans who think a millionaire would happily leave home to join an average team on the frozen Midwest tundra.

But while your cynicism can net a little grim gratification, doubt is a bitter pill for the rest of us to swallow. To be sure: right is right and you don’t need to pretend for the sake of others. But while doubting your dad’s name for raccoons might be wise, I hope you make a little room for my fairy tales lest you live in the drab reality that plagues so many people’s lives of quiet desperation. Doubting the arrival of Signore Balotelli might prove your wisdom amongst fellow fans, but why be a buzzkill for an amusing idea that carries us through the long, dark winter?

Acceptance allows you to have fun when it comes true and to be satisfied if it doesn’t. You need not believe that your unreliable narrator of a father is right about raccoons, just accept I have an odd sense of humor and a wish things were a little brighter than they are…not bad traits for a dad. You needn’t play the killjoy in Balotelli banter, just accept that fans are desperate for a little hope and would rather reach for the stars than the frozen sod in front of them.

Transfer rumors are an ideal arena to practice this skill. Sure I can say: Miguel Ibarra has drawn the interest of Ross County, or Asier Dipanda might make the move from Punjabi plains to Grenoble Alps. If you believe me, you might enjoy the daydream. if you doubt me, you’ll be satisfied to know you’re right. But if you accept that I’m a romantic who hopes teams he loves might swap players he loves, you can appreciate both my dreamy idealism and your righteous reality.

In short boys: I hope you strive to accept what you hear whenever you can and to challenge believers and doubters to stretch beyond their comfort zones.

Oh, and I really hope someone at Ross County reads this and reviews Miguel Ibarra’s tapes. He’s available for a free transfer and while he’s been making more than you normal pay, he’s worth every penny…or Euro…or I guess penny again.