By Ronald N. Guy Jr.
The dance began with 68 participants. Four are left.
My bracket is perfect.
Warren Buffet, courtesy his billion-dollar challenge, is sweating. I’m starting to count my 10-figure
payoff. Early retirement. New car.
New home. Vacation home. Or two.
Maybe three. I will shamelessly
indulge my hobbies. My mom will never
work again. My dad…well…he’s a
professional retiree. He hasn’t worked
in years. But I’ll float him a new set
of golf clubs and personalized balls branded with my adorable likeness. My palate will only know the world’s finest
beer; my music collection will be epic.
I’ll move my cousin into a guesthouse.
He has no fixed address anyway, and I’ll need a wingman for my life of
leisure – and he masters in leisure.
And of course there would be much philanthropy (food for the soul).
That paragraph contains more madness than the tournament
itself. My bracket is trashed. The billion dollars remain in Mr. Buffet’s
massive account. I remain employed and
the holder of a single mortgage. My mother still works; my dad is playing
generic, off-the-shelf balls. My cousin continues to wander and my philanthropy
remains meager. My bracket dream is over. I’m the same guy today that I was before the
tournament – not that there’s anything wrong with that. My wife would agree…I think.
The reason I didn’t find my wonderland, get bequeathed a
chocolate factory, or end up with a enough of Mr. Buffet’s money to buy a
private island isn’t the result of lack of knowledge or overall ability. Oh no, I have skills. The problem, one that thwarts so many
brackets that coulda been contenders, was this: the occurrence of the unforeseen,
the illogical and maybe even the impossible.
Stephen F. Austin beat VCU – stone cold. Harvard whipped Cincinnati - not in a math-a-thon – on the
basketball court. Dayton defeated
perennial powers Ohio State and Syracuse.
Stanford sent Kansas home early – no ruby slippers required. And of course, Mercer, the pride of Macon,
Georgia, bounced Duke in the first round.
Upsets are part of single-elimination tournament
basketball. Always have been. But David’s beating Goliath so often now,
it’s fair to question if they’ve been cast correctly. Upstarts – small schools from non-descript conferences - are
winning regularly and are even making runs to the Final Four (see George Mason
in 2006, Butler in 2010 and 2011, VCU in 2011 and Wichita State last
year).
So what has changed?
Well, a lot. Early entrants to
the NBA are robbing major programs of elite talent while smaller schools with
less decorated recruits build teams – real teams – over several seasons. But it’s more than that. The kids from Butler, Dayton and Mercer, and
nearly every school like them, act like they belong now. A national T.V. audience, cavernous arenas
and blue blood opponents engender not a trace of intimidation, cowardice or
inferiority. The tournament’s grand
stage, the opportunity to win and to chase the sports’ greatest prize is as
much theirs as it is their more ballyhooed opponent. Mercer isn’t less than Duke; Mercer equals Duke.
I watched a re-run of Rocky III recently. In Rocky’s first fight with Clubber Lang
(Mr. T), defeat was in his eyes. He
wanted no part of the hungry challenger.
Of course, as Rocky so often did, he came back with vengeance and
defeated Lang in the rematch. In the
climatic fight Rocky defiantly implored Lang to hit him while proclaiming, “you
ain’t so bad…you ain’t nothing.” Rocky
had absorbed the champ’s best punch and found him to be no greater, no stronger
than he was. The kids from Mercer,
Dayton and insert-any-instant-Cinderella-here, routinely compete with the same
fearlessness as Philadelphia’s beloved boxing hero. Goliath is mighty and strong, but David is a highly skilled with
his slingshot.
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