The phenomenon that grips the national sports psyche is upon us. These tournaments send millions of fans into a synchronized frenzy each year that, to me, is not all that different from a 50% off sale at Apple or The North Face. To be honest, I've never been into college sports or professional sports. Especially not enough to throw money into a pot in the hopes that I choose the one winning team out of sixty-four invitees.
There's nothing wrong with it and I'm not degrading those who are fanatics (not even you Michael), by all means, play on playas. I really think it boils down to me just not having enough energy or patience to sit in one spot and watch other people live their lives while mine's passing me by. It feels like watching paint dry, or maybe watching grass grow.
Every time I open my mouth to request a change of plans, I ponder the reaction I might get... it would probably be a pretty strong response as though I had literally walked over to the TV, turned it off, and proceeded to take a shit in your Cheerios.
As if that would EVER happen.
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