Every single year, I am a glutton for punishment. Spring blooms as winter ceases, but I’m not giving up on the best prop-bet dumpster fire known to all sports fans as the March Madness Bracket. I only like to complete one bracket, mostly because I don’t need to be reminded just how wrong I can be in different parallel universes. My life doesn’t need to be a collage of different outcomes that don’t work, as if Doctor Strange is judging me in particular in “The Avengers.” However, every single year, I think I can determine the diamond in the rough underdog just as much as I figure I know the clear favorites. Sometimes I’m on point and I have that feeling that “I knew something someone else didn’t,” which we all know isn’t even close to the truth. Other times, I make a pick in the round of sixty-four and I’m destroyed immediately, deep into the sweet sixteen or even elite eight. Full disclosure, I bet on my gut completely this year and just ignored all conventional wisdom. Here I am to share the glory, the pain, and the “yeah, that surprised nobody” decisions with all of you. This is my open invitation to judge me on my take of college basketball.
