The season is upon us. Remember:
And now the craziness begins ie who got in, who didn't get in, the seeding etc. As I speak Mad Dog's heart is seizing as he peels Mike's oiled hair back, screaming. Every year, I study the brackets like they're the Dead Sea Scrolls; upon completion, EVERY SINGLE TIME I look at my picks and honestly think "...you know what...I don't see a wrong pick here..." and I try to stuff in as many ACC teams into the Final Four as possible. Which, I guess, would be by definition...four. And, of course, by the end of Day 1 my bracket sheet is hurled in the garbage, wrong wrong wrong, and I swear the next year I'm gonna pick by uniforms a la Dwayne picking football teams on their helmets.
What does drive me crazy though...dudes filling out more than one bracket. Gutless. They fill out their "real" one, then fill out another one with their "upsets." Their wacky bracket! So that when a 15 does beat a 2 they can crow abut it, cause it was on one of their 192 bracket sheets they filled out. Fuck that. Me? As 8-Mile once said, you only get one shot (shout out to Medium G.) So here's my one bracket for all to see. - XMASTIME
Every single year (except this one now, so of course I'll look like a fucking idiot) my tournament picks go the exact same within my little Yahoo group: Day 1, I sprint way out ahead of everybody, and by the end of the 2nd day I am so far ahead of everyone else I have to practice my false modesty act in front of a mirror, saying things like "oooh, I thought I picked (insert losing team), guess I didnt. Boy was that lucky!" But the whole time the smarm is thickening as I mentally pat all my friends on their heads, thinking hey, I played the game! They dont know what they're doing, I AM THE EXPERT!!! Because we're boys, every year I take particular glee in finding my boy Op buried at the bottom of the basement, with picks so awful I have both hands on my hips as I lean back, parallel to the ground and loudly "har! har! har!" in my room by myself for about 10 minutes.
Then the next weekend comes, and the gap starts closing. Okay okay, dont panic, Im thinking, my bracket sheet worn down to its original pupa. I'm still out in front, and Op foolishly picked Strawberry Shortcake and Grandpa Munster to go to the Final Four.
Of course by the end of that Sunday night I'm under my bed in the dark, naked save for a thin coat of Country Crock spread, weeping as somehow everybody (including Op) has vaulted past me and I am buried DEEP at the bottom. Way bottom. EVERY YEAR this happens like clockwork. I'll keep you posted. Sigh. - XMASTIME
Go Mudcats!
ReplyDelete