Monday, March 22, 2010

I Love You, Month of March

Not so fast, Scottie Reynolds.

Apologies for the space between posts, but during the first weekend of the NCAA tournament we tend to go a little Christopher Reeves on the rest of our lives. We fall so deep into our vegetative state, not even a suicidal Robin Williams could cheer us up on his way to becoming a famous oncologist.

I love March.

I love seeing Jay “Big Schools” Bilas proven wrong and Digger “I still think Notre Dame will win it all” Phelps eating his words. I love parents with the audacity to name a child Jimmer. I love crying fat kids carrying trumpets. But most of all I love you, March Madness.

Some thoughts after an entire four days of watching the games:

1. I can’t decide which is stronger, my elation while watching a first round upset or my disgust from seeing the Cinderella bench’s token white guy pretend to hold the entire team back. Aren’t his teammates a bit offended by this? Basically he is saying to them, “Look, I feel like if I don’t physically hold you back, you will go rushing headlong onto the court with a big, stupid grin on your face during the middle of the game. That’s how dumb I think you are.”

2. Apparently, Sonic cleaned out their basement and found a box of old commercials from the 80’s and decided to use them. That’s the only way to explain their abrupt change of direction from the witty in-car conversations to the roller skating teenagers. Also, the commercial features a black guy on roller skates, which I thought to be historically inaccurate until I saw this:

3.Speaking of commercials, I don’t think Papa John’s commercials where he shows he’s “just an ordinary guy” are having the desired effect. If anything he comes across as even more douchey than we originally thought. If I see him react to making the half court shot one more time I will probably vomit.

4.Robert Morris got screwed. The officials decided the outcome of that game against Villanova. Period.

5.I know I’m getting older because every year I get more and more concerned about the underdog dog pile following an upset. It’s at a point now where I become visibly pale and worry for the safety of each one of those young fellas.

And finally,

6. There is no better celebration than the sprinting across the court doing high knees. You just can't describe joy any better than by watching a grown man wave a towel above his head while high stepping.

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