It’s not even 7 AM as I write this on a dreary, slushy, snow covered day, south of St. Patrick’s.
Dreary, slushy, snow covered day, south of mid-March?
Mid-March…and I just finished shoveling out my driveway and walk, not to mention cleaning off 2 cars, so Z could get off swiftly to the Bronx...and I could stay for dinner tonight.
We’re not supposed to have snow now!
Tomorrow is the first day of spring….
But it’s barely 33 degrees.
I guess I’m paying for that week in Cabo with its 87 degree temps and body baking sunshine.
Sorry about that.
But the deal is—or at least I thought it was the deal—once we toast the Irish…toast the Irish…and toast the Irish…again…the snow is toast as well.
Yet there I was at 6 AM…shoveling something that seemed an awful lot like snow.
Maybe it was pudding?
Maybe a pudding truck exploded and I was really shoveling pudding.
I feel a little bad for the crocuses. There they were, popping up all around, brightening up the dreary with their little splash of color; minding their own business, doing their harbinger of spring thing.
And now they’re sitting under 3 inches of slush, saying, "What the heck kind of fertilizer is this…?”
The snowdrops are in the same boat, but they can fend for themselves.
They live for this kind of…fertilizer.
But one sure thing about mid-March, snow or no, is Tournament time.
All over the country folks are studying the seedings and filling out their NCAA brackets…even those that haven’t seen a single college basketball game all year.
And everyone has a system…most of which have nothing to do with expertise, let alone knowledge of the game.
Some folks just go with all the favorites, which is never a good idea.
Nor is picking all the underdogs, for obvious reasons, none of which have anything to do with Sweet Polly Purebread.
Others, with a real handle on the game, will study every team’s past performance and tendencies throughout the year, then analyze, dissect and discuss the matchup ad-infinitum…and still be wrong.
Because that’s just how it works.
Truth is, one needs to take a more scientific approach such as the one Z employs, which pits each team’s nickname against one another.
Wolfpack over Owls…no contest.
Cowboys eat the Ducks for lunch…and dinner too.
Bearcats over Bluejays…are you kidding?
Devils vs. Danes…should be a real dog fight, but who the hell knows.
Wolverines over the Jackrabbits...but only if they can slow them down
Hoyas over the Eagles, mostly because no one is really sure what a Hoya actually is.
Crusaders vs. Spartans…pretty much a tossup depending on who spills the most body oil on the court that day.
Aggies vs. Billikens…have no clue what either of them are…just like saying Billikens.
Wildcats over Tarheels…because it’s hard to jump with tar on your feet.
And finally, Orange over Grizzlies…because everyone knows bears have a very adverse reaction to citrus.
I find it to be a pretty foolproof system and I have never understood why more people don’t follow my lead.
But good luck with your own picks, if you bounce that way.
I’m not sure what that actually means but I thought it tied in to the whole basketball thing.
And enough with the snow…
Just follow the bouncing ball....