Busting Brackets
Jeanine, a girl I once worked with, busted brackets and won office pools by pitting team mascots against each other. The boys, in a losing streak against this girl that knew nothing of their sacred sports, were inconsolable. She made a mockery of the process.
They asked me to intercede: to explain the sacrilege in her ways.
I tried to explain to them that her method was just as valid as all of theirs. Some clutched their chests and gasped,
“But the stats!” I felt their pain, but Jeanine the girlie girl held several crisp twenty dollar bills in her left hand triumphantly.
She sometimes picked teams based on her desire to visit their city of origin. And I contributed to the general malaise of the boys by suggesting other ridiculous ways she could pick teams
("Ooh, how about state birds?"). Sometimes she won the whole pot and it was always hilarious.
As a tribute to the girl, the sport of betting and the scientific pursuit of winning, here are 2 possible outcomes to the Final Four:
BY MASCOT: Hmm, tigers and gators and bears . . . armed guys!
First tigers vs. bruins. Though bruins would be larger and possibly stronger, tigers are more adept predators and hunters and have been known to take down extremely large prey.
Advantage: LSU. The second match-up of patriots vs. gators is a little trickier. Ultimately, it depends on whether you believe the patriots are alert enough, in which case they can just shoot the gators. Patriots almost always have guns.
Advantage: GMU.The Final Two then would be Tigers and Patriots. Now you have to define what makes you weep… Your choice boils down to simply this: man-eaters or guys with guns?
I know what Jeanine would pick.
BY STATE BIRD: Let the feathers fly!On the first match-up you'll have eastern brown pelicans vs. California valley quails. Pelicans can peck you to death and keep you at bay (bayou?) for extended periods. Quails -- oh hell, too many Republican jokes...
Advantage: LSU. For the second game, there will be cardinals vs. mockingbirds. Though cardinals are bigger and there's the whole Catholic-angst to consider, mockingbirds are swift and fast little things with extraordinary strength and heart.
Advantage: Florida.
Final Two: pelicans and mockingbirds.
LSU will eat ‘em other southern boys up. (Hmm, I spy a queer little pattern...)
Final Four: Sin Semilla
What a massacre!
All across America there are more busted brackets than fake boobs at Studio City on any given Tuesday.
Things got serious enough that even the
Mafiosi in Brooklyn ratted themselves out just so they wouldn’t have to pay the long shots.
That UConn game almost killed me. But despite the fact that none of my teams made it to the Final Four and that I have no emotional investment in the Final Round in Indianapolis; it was exciting basketball and the 2006 tourney will remain in memory for years. This, my friends, is historical and we be livin' it!
Then, as the last game began, Mom started rooting for Florida – which seemed more than a little weird because her ex-husband and father to my brothers lives there and she
hates that state. I turned to her as she chanted, “Go Gators!” She looked back at me in defiance, “Look, if
my top seeds aren’t gonna make it, then
nobody’s top seeds should. Screw Villanova! GO GATORS!” Personally I think she has a thing for Noah, but we have soft spots for Brazilian men…
When it was all said and done and the Final Four were set, she turns to me and says,
“Look at that your busted bracket went sin semilla.” Priceless…
By the way, what the hell is wrong with Seth Davis? A withered marigold can outwit this guy. During the half-time interview with the George Mason team, he asked the coach to put the mike to the captain and ask him something interesting because he was
“too excited to think of something.” And he followed that beauty by asking another player what he’d be singing at Indi. Oh dude, your parents spent a fortune sending you to Duke. Where did they go wrong?
I wonder if the CBS Sports team will now apologize and publicly kiss Craig Littlepage's ass on primetime. I wouldn't hold my breath, but it would make for rivetting television...
Stunned & Vaporized
Earlier this week we had a coyote running wild through Central Park, freaking out city folk. Wednesday afternoon (talk about hump day), the NYPD surrounded the elusive beast and shot it with tranquilizers. The pain of that dart, the stunning and unexpected haziness that followed it -- that's the only way to describe the last 9 seconds of that Duke/LSU game, when I realized there was no possible way to win it. It was brutal!
Of course, my bracket was already a mess. Now it is just an inky mess documenting heartbreak.
It reminded me of my first time. I purposely waited to lose my virginity. I was
picked and rolled by a college basketball star. It had the potential to be spectacular. Instead it was just off and weird; very physical and exhausting but ultimately a stunning loss. (A WTF moment, if you will.)
The difference is that I'll always remember JJ and Shelden fondly, despite our last 20 minutes together.
Give me a moment to recup and on with the contest. Oh, my boys... {sigh}
[UCLA pulled a stunning miracle in the last minute against Gonzaga. I imagine they still have Morrison under sedation! And the Longhorns shocked West Virginia in what will be the most amazing night of the tourney by far. Memphis continues to stealthily move ahead -- cue SFX of "
Jaws" theme... Can't wait for the next round!]
Too Much of a Good Thing
Sinbad used to do a routine about little kids overdosing on candy and lying in a darkened alleyway, colorful wrappers strewn about… Friday night, I spent several hours glued to the TV, cheering and laughing and having a beer with my corned beef meal. Saturday I put in a full day: 8 hours of basketball! That’s love, baby. What else can you do for eight straight hours and still love it. Sunday I put in the requisite hours, but I became fatigued by the end of it. The last 3 minutes of televised play, my heart just wasn’t in it anymore. But even as I couldn’t see another lay up, I returned to the room and watched – like any junkie who knows anything about residue…
I dreamed of brackets and loud arenas. I laughed. I coached. I prayed. I taunted. I love March Madness.
In the sober first day of spring (it is freezing here!), only half of my teams advanced to the Sweet Sixteen. Only 2 of my projected Final Four remain in the contest. The two, in fact, that I expect to vie for it all: My Final Two.
(Apropos of nothing: only in my house would you get a St. Patrick’s Day gift of a book about Arapahos!)
Erin Go Braless -- Taunting Notre Dame?
There is an old Irish proverb that says, “It's difficult to choose between two blind goats.” I haven’t got the foggiest idea what the hell that means. I suspect that was just the Guinness speaking. Whatever the case, it is St. Patrick’s Day: Erin go braugh!
Today is also my cousin Patty’s birthday. So happy birthday, you aging whore: here’s hoping you finally get arrested! See you in hell.
More importantly, it is Day Two of Round One. 17 teams have already started the long, humiliating march home. Of those, Syracuse left me numb. My bracket took a few hits, but it’s not the massacre it was back in 2001 where if you picked it up it literally bled.
Speaking of Madness, am I the only one who thinks that the fact that Davidson student athletes enter their programs with an average SAT score of 1370 extremely sexy. Presbyterians aren’t supposed to get you hot, are they? Because I will renounce my pagan ways! (That’s the Madness speaking, fear not; besides I have OSU in my bracket. After tip off, all Christian sentiments go by the wayside: STEAL!!! COVET! Faster, Pussycat, KILL! KILL!)
I am ready to immerse myself in 72 hours of couch coaching!
Oh, Tony. Noooooo!
Oh, dude, this is freaking brutal! Seems like a good time to pause and start
keening…
No silent clock for Soul Patch?
Reason for hope or is it because he married that bitch Michelle? Or is it because he convinced Jack not to kill Nina after she killed Teri? Does it mean more than just a post-production
thing?
Do I need a life? Nah…
I admit I watch entirely too much television these days. But if I made some $600 more a week, I could afford to attend the theatre far more often.
It's true
This week has started like a kick in the head: swift and numbing, but that's personal. On other news, college hoop news: Coach John Chaney has indeed retired. Despite his antics and bad behavior, I hate to think that a whole generation will just remember that unfortunate incident with St. Joe's and the "goon." There was more to the man, and the coach, than just this. (Ask Calipari!)
Hmm, asking for more heat methinks...
It's Madness!!!
Aw, come on!!! You know that the moment Greg Gumble announced the Air Force and you were set to write it into your empty bracket, you all looked up at the TV perplexed and said, “Air Force?! Really???
The Falcons? From Colorado? White and blue uniforms? EH-err FOr-ze???”
Seriously, nobody projected AFA because nobody in their right mind can take that team all that seriously based on this season. Don’t argue with me because I love the
overall number 1 seed, you know I’m right.
Besides, I’m disappointed that
Temple didn’t get an invite.
Coach Chaney is like 180 years old and I don’t know how many more tantrums we have to witness. Plus, who among us doesn’t enjoy the various stages of undress in his arsenal? The rumor that at 11:00 a.m. EST Chaney will retire today is just so much more painful then … and I’ll steadfastly refuse to believe it until 11:01. The Owls will never be the same nor will the Atlantic 10. Also, did I mention
IT’S NOT FAIR, dammit!!! (That’s my tribute tantrum for the man, just in case.)
But, seriously, people: Air Force?
ARGH!
I haven't slept with my bracket yet (unusual, I know, but I spent a sleepless night worrying about actual life) and have no projections. We have days before that's necessary. More as it develops...
When Angels Sing with a Band and Cheerleaders
Here we are again, that familiar time of the year deserving of passion, beauty and true reverence: the Highest of Holidays –
March Madness!For weeks into April, some of us breathe college hoops. And I know a lot of you don’t understand it. I’m not here to convert you. You are born a fanatic. I don’t believe in being born again any more than I believe you can recapture your virginity or that George Bush can actually pronounce
paradigm shift or even understand the concept.
As we speak, major conference games are taking place (UConn upset by the
Orange! Temple guarantees us at least one Coach Chaney Tantrum at the Dance!!). As teams get knocked off, some humbly move on to the NIT. Boys (and girls) across the nation await The Announcement on Sunday:
Seeds! The geeks among us tremble like little bitches about to tinkle, and our central nervous systems transform into vast arrays of possible
Brackets!
It is sweet this Madness of March. The pageantry, the sportsmanship, the intellectually superior taunting, the young boys in shorts, running and bouncing-- If you wish to speak to me for the next few weeks, preface your thoughts with basketball or suffer my insolent dismissal.
My Favorite March Madness Anecdote:
Coach: Son, are you ignorant or apathetic?
Player: Coach, I don’t know and I don’t care.
Let the Madness Surge within Us All:
GO TEAM!!!
Remember!
Edgar Stiles, awesome computer analyst and former NYU alumnus (Go Bobcats! Yay Violets!!), died last night at CTU: Los Angeles. He died a virgin and
thisclose to emulating a poignant "Star Trek" moment involving a brain...
I know Edgar was not the charmingnest, sweetest or soul patchiest of them all but I wish Jack Bauer will fly round the earth and make it go back to the last bushell of Krespe Kreme.
Edgar, we hardly knew you. We shed a shocked bit of sobbage. Our clock is silent for you too. Long live the geek!
Jeanine, a girl I once worked with, busted brackets and won office pools by pitting team mascots against each other. The boys, in a losing streak against this girl that knew nothing of their sacred sports, were inconsolable. She made a mockery of the process.
