Today should be a national holiday.
I’m serious, dudes. Very serious.
Well, as serious as I can be when I’m jumping up and down inside and giggling and laughing and clapping my hands together and basically imitating a little girl who’s just been given a magical unicorn kitty who smiles rainbows.
Yes, it’s the start of the NCAA men’s college basketball tournament today at noon. I cannot wait.
There’s nothing to compare with the feeling of sitting down a few minutes before noon, clicking on the television and seeing the first tip off, knowing it’s only one of many that will happen during the day. And tomorrow. And the next day and the day after that.
Could this be the year that a 16 seed beats a 1 seed? (Maybe, but not in the South. And I’m not just saying that because I graduated from the University of Florida and love the Gators with a frightening intensity**.)
Who will be the Cinderella story of the tournament, the team that comes out of nowhere and makes a strong run, beating teams it has no business even being in the same auditorium with?
Will I be able to make it through the tournament without wanting to hunt down a certain announcer’s parents, travel through time and slap them both until they no longer want to have children? Thereby saving us from the long national nightmare that is. . .
Sorry. I need to calm down a bit. Hyperventilating isn’t good for me, I’ve been told.
This Madness that is March is yet another thing I need for which I need to thank Hyper Lad. See, it was because he was born just before we moved to North Carolina that allowed me to stay at home full time to take care of him.
And, because I was home alone with the little dude, that I turned on the first basketball game of the 1999 tournament while he was napping and started to watch. And didn’t go anywhere for the rest of the afternoon except upstairs during a commercial break to fetch the little dude down with me.
Sarcasmo and Zippy the Monkey Boy came home from school and couldn’t believe I was so distracted and it wasn’t football season.
This was a revelation. An epiphany. A Saul-on-the-road-to-Damascus moment.
“The band, Elwood! The band!”
Yeah, that kind of moment. Only with less gospel singing and no back flips.
And so that is where you will find me today. On the couch, drink in hand, smile on face and finger on the remote so I can switch back and forth to find the perfect game, to see the best play.
Because, even though today and tomorrow aren’t national holidays, I’m still taking the days off.
This is going to be good.
Footnotes & Errata
* I realize the gag First Four started playing on Tuesday, but I’m not counting play-in games. We’re talking tournament.
** Yes I am.
