What your view of sports and life would be if you had too many concussions
Last year, the analogy I made to the disaster that is my bracket was to a crashing airliner. Last year was the first in all my years of this basketball-driven self-flagellation where I lost my champion in the first weekend. This year marks the worst bracket I’ve ever had while still keep all of my Final Four intact. Somehow, I managed to end up tied for ninth in a sixteen-team pool.
There’s two weird part is that despite the fact that I’ve already lost three of my Elite 8, I am in a perfect position to make up some serious ground next weekend. Not only do I have all of my Final Four, but in the Schadenfreude portion of this blog, it’s time to look not at how intact my bracket is, but how fucked the others are.
Having said that, what realistically are my odds of winning? Roughly the same as that of my splitting a bottle of Dom Perignon with the Abominable Snowman on a non-missing Malaysian airliner. Why? Because I’m J-Dub.
Obviously, the top half of this region for me features more red ink than bag of Twizzlers. And much like cheap, mass-produced candy, it’s giving me a fair amount of gastrointestinal distress. To cure that, I will be a steady diet of Wisconsin beer and cheese for the next week.
You would think after all this time, I would have learned my lesson about the fucking Kansas Jayhawks. They should all get rectal cancer.
Between St. Joseph’s and Villanova, Philadelphia basketball has phucked me once again. If Michigan State doesn’t win this region, my chances of winning become very spartan.
Somehow, depending on Rick Pitino to save this region for me feels like trusting a dentist who sells miniature ivory figurines. Then again, Kentucky is not known for the stellar orthodontia of it’s Skoal-sucking residents, so what the fuck?We’ll let you know once the search party finds my hopes of winning on the bottom of the ocean.