I HATE MARCH MADNESS

Okay, well “hate” is a stong word. Maybe “despise” would be better. I loathe it, I look forward to it like I would look forward to a colonoscopy. Okay, I really do hate it.

The main problem is that I don’t like basketball. That statement is like a dagger through my husband’s heart because he adores basketball. It’s his favorite sport, but I would rather watch championship arm wrestling than to sit through a basketball game. Now I had to analyze my hatred for the game itself first before I could determine the true reasons for my hatred of March Madness in general and I came up with the following reason why I dislike the game itself:

- The shorts are far too baggy. I mean seriously, every other sport has the tightest pants possible – baseball, football – hell even male figure skaters wear tight pants and yet when I’m forced to sit through a bball game all I get for eye candy is what looks like a sheet of mesh wrapped around some guy from waist to calf. What happened to the short shorts of the 70’s? Now that was entertainment. If they had those nowadays I could at least pass the time waiting for an extra ball or two to make an appearance on the court.

- I can see their faces. Now I know that sounds odd but hear me out on this one – and keep in mind that this last fault applies mostly to the NBA rather than College ball. You see basketball players are cocky. They really are and while football and baseball players may be equally cocky, I’m not forced to watch their facial expressions when they score due to the helmets and the hats. See I can’t stand that “Look at me, I’m such a stud, I can do anything, all hail my spectacular greatness” look on their faces after they dunk or whatever. It ticks me off really. It’s the showmanship of the game and that’s what a lot of people find enticing but that I really find distracting. It’s okay to be great. It’s okay to be a superstar, but I guess I can only take so many acts of male egotism. It’s kept to a minimum in other sports but runs rampant in basketball. Besides have you seen the faces of NBA players? No offense but they’re not in general a real attractive group of guys. Being 10 feet tall seems to somehow alter the proportions of their features or something. It’s just no pretty.

And here are the reasons that I don't like March Madness in particular:

- Dick Vitale. Need I say more? Do they just resuscitate this guy every year in March? I mean nobody is that excited. Every time he talks it sounds like he’s just run up 15 flights of stairs to tell you that he won the lottery. Enthusiasm like that is really only meant to last for a few seconds – not for 69 straight years. I’m convinced that if he were left alone with a pack of dogs they would quickly sense that the man was an abomination against nature and the natural rhythm of life and would rip him limb from limb within minutes. Sometimes that’s the only image that gets me through the month. “They’re eating me alive – It’s AWESOME BABY!!!!”

- The Brackets. They’re everywhere. On my kitchen counter, posted up at work, online, on TV, you can’t escape them. The bracket is like a meteorological report. Nobody knows what’s going to happen. Will it rain tomorrow? Will Kentucky beat Kansas? Nobody really knows and yet there are 50 fucking thousand people out there hazarding a guess and I get tired of hearing about it.

- Rushing the court. You know at the end of the game how everyone rushes the court for the big celebration. It’s just a little overdone don’t you think? I mean just a mere decade ago it was unheard of and now they’re doing it at every single game. Pretty soon they’ll be doing it at peewee basketball games. It kind of takes away the significance of it. It’s like being presented with a birthday cake every day of your life.

- I no longer exist. I’d have to say that this is the most annoying part of March Madness. I kid you not people last week as my husband was watching a game – and keep in mind that this was some tournament game BEFORE March Madness actually began, I waved my hands wildly in front of his vacant and blank eyes for a good 5 seconds before he realized that I was standing in front of him and talking to him. When March Madness actually begins I’ll have to light all of my appendages on fire and use one of those air horns to get his attention.

I’m going to close my eyes now and dream of April.