Beware the Insanity of March

I am not a sports fan. I am not a bracket filler. I am not prone to risk my employment by a. pretending to be sick or b. streaming audio or video of a team’s efforts in my cube just to keep up with my bracket standings.

Since it is guaranteed that we will visit my parents at least once during March Madness, the NCAA basketball tournament is an opportunity for marathon knitting. I sit on the sofa, cast on a pair of socks, and knit the most complicated lace or cabled design to my heart’s content, as I don’t really pay much attention to the game and little else is going on at my parents’ house.

I am not one who gives a crap about this sort of thing. Or so I thought.

My sad story of obsession and insanity begins two plus years ago really, but I will start with January and the crap ball played by UK (University of Kentucky for the uninitiated).

I remember being told once by an Argentine that his Boca fan father would accept him announcing that he was gay before he would accept that his son was a fan of River. My dad would not say such a thing, but then again we knew it was not a good thing to cheer for University of Louisville or worse yet, DUKE.

My sister still goes into a tirade of outrage and fury over the unsportsmanlike conduct of Duke player Christian Laetner and the blatant placement of his foot forcefully and squarely in the chest of UK player Justin Timberlake. In the end Laetner got his. After being a college sports god, his career fizzled out in the pros, a has been before he was 30. Karma can be a bitch.

Generally, being a UK fan is quite satisfying. Not this season. For the first time in my recent memory, UK’s season was filled with such suckage (a 5 on the 5 Hoover scale of suckage) that we did not even get a chance to play in the NCAA tournament.

When I mentioned my discomfort about this fact to my father-in-law, who is a Gators fan, he said, and I quote, “The problem with UK is that they are living in the past.” He went on to say that UK had gotten cocky, believing that they were the only game in town.

You know, I am generally very respectful of my father-in-law. I don’t disparage his political or religious beliefs; I don’t recriminate him on the terrible habits he instilled in Hubby; I don’t throw up from car sickness when I ride in the back seat of his geezer mobile. Yet, I found myself wanting to say with emphatic conviction, “You can kiss my butt, old man and I hope the Gators get beaten by Morehead State” in response.

The worst part is the wrongness of it all. The words “there’s always the NIT” are not words any self respecting UK coach should utter – ever. Especially when even that is an invitation to failed hopes and crushed dreams as UK lost to Norte Dame in the quarterfinals. I didn’t watch the game. For that I am grateful.