Note: The following column is not meant in any way to disrespect women. It may seem to address only men, but this is because the columnist wishes to follow the format laid out in the Holy Bible. By “man,” he means “any human being who partakes in awesome things.” If, by chance, you are a single woman who happens to fall in that category, do not hesitate to e-mail the columnist. He is free this weekend.
Among the American male population — a very distinct subculture, I understand — only a few holidays are celebrated. Because of that, today is a rare treat, perhaps the rarest to any man who enjoys the following: basketball, beer, recklessness, self-indulgence, beer, running amok, green beer, irrationality, more beer, fun.
To take full advantage of today’s festivities, you no doubt have put your bracket in a pool with friends. If you don’t mind taking a few minutes, you can use today as a teaching tool. You see, your bracket is an objective measure of exactly what type of person you are. The same can be said about looking at your friends’ brackets.
To understand yourself, or your friends, ask yourself exactly why you picked certain teams to win. “Because they are the better team,” you say. But are they? Think about it.
You rode the highest seeds: You are conservative, and you should be. You come from an upper-middle class home. You study something not because it interests you but because it will lead to a steady career: law, business management, information technology, etc. You find risk interesting, but the reward is never worth it. You drive a Volvo. You listen to top-40 radio, music with a simple, catchy hook. You want to meet your future wife at work and get married at 25.
You picked three first-round upsets and have a 12-seed in the Sweet 16: You pride yourself in appearing sophisticated. You read the New Yorker. You are majoring in a foreign language and when people ask why, you explain, “Because I want to.” You will live out of the country for a few years after college before settling down. You have a beard.
You put Indiana State in the Elite Eight: You like fundamentals, farm towns and underdogs. You like players who are stereotyped as “hustlers” and “gym rats.” You wear flannel, but not because indie rock stars do. You are Larry Bird.
You picked a 16-seed to win the first round: You went to Bonaroo last summer, but only because you heard it’s a good place to find drugs. You were planning to get your degree, but then you decided not to. You spent last summer working at a hostel in Spain because the owner let you sleep on the floor for labor. Your friends only hang out with you when looking to blow off steam. You are what some people call “an alcoholic.”
You picked Duke to win the national championship: You wake up in the morning, look at yourself in the mirror and say, “I wish I had friends.”
