Let’s just say it: Things are weird. Things have been weird. The picture of what exactly America is or what it’s supposed to be has never been murkier or more disputed. The conversations necessary to clear that picture up have never been more difficult to facilitate.
Maybe this is why I find myself now, perhaps more than ever before, despite everything, so drawn to college basketball’s postseason.
March Madness is America.
It is deeply flawed.
There are inherent disadvantages that a majority of the participants will need a significant dose of both skill and luck to overcome if they want to become nationally known and respected. For some, one night of bad luck will completely undo four months’ worth of hard work and overwhelming success. For these programs, the fact one failure led to their demise while others were allowed to fail four times as often and still achieve their ultimate goals will be an impossible pill to swallow. It’s not fair, and it’s never going to be fair.
It is also more conducive to magic and excitement than anything in its realm.
Obtaining college basketball’s top prize is extremely unlikely for the vast majority of the 364 teams competing in Division-I. At least it’s not impossible. At least the bottom-tier NET school that won its conference tournament gets the chance to prove itself on the sport’s biggest stage, and not inside a quarter-full stadium against a team that doesn’t really want to be there, in a game that, for all intents and purposes, has zero significance. At least when Oakland stunned Kentucky in the first round a year ago, the Grizzlies had the opportunity to build on their story.
This is the way it should be. Sure, some teams benefit from a head start, and others are dealing with unfair advantages they may not have earned, but at least nobody is disqualified before the race even gets started (well, almost nobody, but we’ll get to that). Everyone has a shot at making a March memory.
I have an aunt who is a graduate of the University of Kentucky and as diehard a member of Big Blue Nation as you’re ever going to find. With the Wildcats relegated to the NIT in 2013, she began reading up on a team from her home city of Fort Myers that had begun to stir up some buzz. In the succeeding weeks, as Florida Gulf Coast won the Atlantic Sun tournament and then became the first 15-seed to ever advance out of the NCAA tournament’s opening weekend, “Dunk City” was all my aunt wanted to talk about.
Therein lies the other thing March Madness has that no other major American sport can claim. Whether it’s the school you graduated from, the school you grew up rooting for, or just the school that’s nearby, everyone has a team.
Every state in this country besides Alaska is home to at least one Division-I basketball program. That means just about every American has a team in their general area they can support or claim as their own during March Madness. We are a species that is wired to connect, and maybe as a direct result, there’s something comforting about the feeling that we’re all in this together. On different teams, sure, but all a part of the same grander experience.
Turn on your television (or internet stream) at virtually any hour over the course of the next couple of weeks, and you’ll be privy to sports theater at its very best. Sure, all these teams have an ultimate goal of winning their respective conference championships and advancing to the NCAA tournament, but there’s something even larger at stake.
In each of these games, at least some of the players on the court are playing to keep their athletic careers alive. It’s survive and advance on multiple levels, and when the buzzer sounds, you can see the joy and the relief on the faces of kids who know they get to wake up the next morning and still be able to call themselves college basketball players.
For the next week and a half we will be consistently bombarded by dream-fulfilling, career-ending, win-or-turn-in-your-jersey conference tournament action. All the elements that draw casual fans so completely into the first weekend of the NCAA tournament are inherent in each and every one of the 32 conference tournaments that will take place over the course of the next two weeks. Quite simply, it’s high drama you can’t find anywhere else.
It is exhilarating, it is cruel, it is rewarding, and it is unrivaled. Let the madness wash over you.
Championship Week is the best, but only if you’re properly educated. Thankfully, this guide is here to help ensure that anyone who wants to experience the highest dosage of madness possible has the ability to do so.
Now if your only interest in March college basketball lies with the blue-bloods and the power conferences, that’s fine, but this isn’t for you. Our time together is coming soon.
