The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I don't know what it is about this time of year, but people go crazy for college basketball. Pools are put together from work bracket tourneys to friendly competitions to gangsters who will break your thumbs when you don't cover the spread. In the past I have been part of these escapades (as my crooked left thumb will attest). I must admit that normally the thrill one gets from predicting the outcome of a totally meaningless game is unmatched in other areas of sporting activity. It's almost like successfully picking a game somehow makes up for a pathetic personal life, the debt that is slowly asphyxiating me, or that night I 'couldn't quite perform'. Yes, bracketology has indeed become one of the most important sciences our young nation has at its disposal. Unfortunately this year I didn't get the chance to fill out a bracket and that has lead to something I never thought possible: complete disinterest.

I have found that I could care less about who wins or loses. With the exception of hoping Kansas loses asap, Davidson could end up the champs and I wouldn't raise an eyebrow. (Only kidding about the Kansas jab Cronnie. Go Jayhawks! That is, if I cared of course.) Friends and family call me asking if I am watching 'the game'. "Oh, yes, of course" I reply as I turn down the T.V. so they can't hear the theme song to Hanna Montana playing in the background. "Can you believe San Diego just upset UConn?!" "Yeah, I can't believe that guy made that shot that one time. Amazing," as Miley Cyrus belts out "The Best of Both Worlds". I'll tell you, lots of people wrote off Billy Ray after "Achy Breaky Heart", but I always had faith he'd return to the top, even if it was through his budding 15 year old daughter. But I diverge from my point. Simply not filling out a bracket has turned one of the most exciting times of the year into a total snore for me. I'd love to find Doc Brown, hop into his DeLorean, crank that baby up to 88 miles per hour and go back in time to fill out a bracket and see how that one small incident could change my future for good, or for evil. . .