My hoops bracket fell apart yesterday when Memphis dusted Texas ... which ticked me off because I had all the fundamental elements for success in place: Assume the Big 10 is overrated and will choke, find a hot 3-shooting team, dismiss the team that cannot shoot free throws (which is what killed me with Memphis), and factor in pseudo-home court advantages when possible (good job UNC, not quite, Longhorns).
Truthfully, I didn't even tune in, because I was too busy watching far more interesting NCAA tournament action ... on the ice. Now you tell me what's not to love about hockey. Fast action ... big hits ... in the last two minutes of the game, you aren't subjected to 14 timeouts with a barrage of Viagra commercials ... and the skill those athletes possess, combining fancy skating on a slippery surface, with graceful stickwork and pinpoint shots ...
Hey wait ... slippery feet, fancy stickwork, innate skills developed over years ... that's FLYFISHING!!!
Granted, we're a bit light on the athleticism, mullets, and bloody knuckles, but if anyone wants to argue the beauty of hockey as a distant third cousin twice-removed from flyfishing, I'm ready to drop my fingerless gloves and have a go, right now. Well, maybe not.