At this moment I am in first place in my family’s March Madness betting pool.
A few things you should know before I say anything further:
-Technically I am tied for first place, with virtually all other participants, as only three games have been announced, and we all seem to have bet on the high rankers.
-I am bragging now rather than waiting a few hours because I know absolutely nothing about college basketball, so all my choices were random guesses.
But for the moment, I’m number one! I’m number one!
I should know more about the game than I do. After all, my family plays basketball constantly; we even have a hoop in the driveway.
But that doesn’t translate. For instance, in college ball, they have no rule about kicking off the garage wall, their boards are sissy straight instead of weathered curled, and I’ve yet to see a game with a pickup truck parked at mid court.
The truck, by the way, is part of the court, and using it as a pick is perfectly acceptable.
My oldest brother was a coach for a college team, and I pretty much blame him for my lack of interest in being a spectator. When I would visit him in Chicago, we would watch the games together in his basement.
Anybody know how long a basketball game is? Sorry, you’re not even close.
They last forever! Because one doesn’t watch them live, rather one watches them on tape.
So one can re-watch every play.
In slow motion.
AND in reverse.
I would try to argue with him. “Do we have to watch this play again? Nothing happened!”
“True,” he would concede. “But we must watch until we discern the “why” of nothing happening.”
I knew, as a young grasshopper, that I would never be ready to leave the basement until I could grasp the remote from his hand.
When making my bracket this year, I guessed from the hints that ESPN gave about each team. Not the information, but the tone.
If the writer seemed biased on a personal level, I went with it.
(“Despite not winning many games, these kids are real go-getters!” And they win in my bracket.
“They have the best offense and the best defense ever seen in the sport, but they tend to smell when they sweat.” And I mark them as losing in the first round.)
My favorite method of choosing winners is by mascot. Simply ask yourself whose mascot would win in a fight.
Would a hornet survive a wolf attack? How would a panther fare against a lion? Could a bulldog take on an orange blob?
This tactic would have come in handy last month.
I mean, seriously, no matter what you think about your country, it’s hard to beat a giant.
Just my thoughts,
By the way, I am no longer in first place. It was great while it lasted.