2008 Woodie Awards
Going mad for the month of pure Madness
Sam Kussin-Shoptaw
Issue date: 3/9/07 Section: Sports
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Here it comes again: that rumbling in your heart, the feeling that something momentous is about to take place. Yes, spring is on its way, but more importantly, March Madness is around the corner.
Why must we religiously follow a tournament of 65 college basketball teams each and every year? It begins with brackets, dreams and bets and ends with the constant replaying of the CBS song you know and love (and love to hate) for almost a full month.
I know March Madness has been written about more than Anna Nicole Smith's death and the O.J. debacle put together, but I honestly believe that there is something holy and innocent in the NCAA tournament and that you, reader, should watch as much of it as humanly possible (remember that all games are on CBS.com if you have to laptop it in class).
Where else can a team from any town in America rise up and defeat every Goliath in its path to claim the biggest trophy in college basketball? Where else can a sideline consist of crazy old ladies in sweaters, NBA scouts and overtired college students freshly out of midterms happy to be sitting in the free seats provided by their university? Where else can you watch eight games a day that all end in last second shots and crying players, fans, parents and coaches?
Imagine if the real world worked as March Madness does. What if elections for President were run with a play-in game between the 64 and 65 ranked Senators? What if countries in the U.N. faced off in a tournament (possibly in beer-pong or even whiffle-ball) to determine who would serve on the security council?
We would all find ourselves cheering on Ghana or Costa Rica as we do for teams like George Mason and Gonzaga.
I guess what I'm trying to get at is that college basketball and its yearly tournament is everything that's right with America.
Capitalism functions perfectly around our beloved athletes with sponsors chiming in at every possible interval. The same commercials run on repeat for a full month, leaving us entirely exhausted with that damn Mellencamp song about America, yet entirely satisfied with hearing the music of kids our age scream with joy and ecstasy after achieving the seemingly impossible.
Why must we religiously follow a tournament of 65 college basketball teams each and every year? It begins with brackets, dreams and bets and ends with the constant replaying of the CBS song you know and love (and love to hate) for almost a full month.
I know March Madness has been written about more than Anna Nicole Smith's death and the O.J. debacle put together, but I honestly believe that there is something holy and innocent in the NCAA tournament and that you, reader, should watch as much of it as humanly possible (remember that all games are on CBS.com if you have to laptop it in class).
Where else can a team from any town in America rise up and defeat every Goliath in its path to claim the biggest trophy in college basketball? Where else can a sideline consist of crazy old ladies in sweaters, NBA scouts and overtired college students freshly out of midterms happy to be sitting in the free seats provided by their university? Where else can you watch eight games a day that all end in last second shots and crying players, fans, parents and coaches?
Imagine if the real world worked as March Madness does. What if elections for President were run with a play-in game between the 64 and 65 ranked Senators? What if countries in the U.N. faced off in a tournament (possibly in beer-pong or even whiffle-ball) to determine who would serve on the security council?
We would all find ourselves cheering on Ghana or Costa Rica as we do for teams like George Mason and Gonzaga.
I guess what I'm trying to get at is that college basketball and its yearly tournament is everything that's right with America.
Capitalism functions perfectly around our beloved athletes with sponsors chiming in at every possible interval. The same commercials run on repeat for a full month, leaving us entirely exhausted with that damn Mellencamp song about America, yet entirely satisfied with hearing the music of kids our age scream with joy and ecstasy after achieving the seemingly impossible.
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