This year I did two brackets for NCAA tournament.  The first one wasn’t a very likely outcome, but my superstitious nature made me choose what I hoped would happen, rather than what I thought would happen.  Whether or not I believed a team could win was less important than the ramifications of not choosing a team that meant something.  If I didn’t choose my home city and first college, Cincinnati, to go all the way, I feel I would have hexed them; and, the moment they stopped moving forward in the bracket, it would be all my fault.  Who wants to live with that kind of guilt?

The second bracket was researched extensively.  I visited website after website to make sure I had all the facts.  It had nothing to do with the standings, the players or the percentages.  It was all to find out the mascot for each and every team.  I based this bracket on which mascot would win over the other in a one on one fight* (or in the case of the Nevada wolf pack – several wolves against one Texas bull).  I asked for advice from my co-workers (Becca, Bretten & Drew).  “Who would win a fight between a buckeye and a jackrabbit?”  A jackrabbit, obviously…though my cousin Brad feels perhaps that the jackrabbit could choke on the buckeye, leaving the buckeye victorious.  Well, either way, both the buckeye and the jackrabbit are out at this point, so let’s just leave that one alone.  The tiger or the musketeer?  The bearcat or the panther?  Fight after fight, we weaved through the bracket with the Sun Devil coming out on top as the victorious mascot.  I mean, who couldn’t a sun devil beat with his supernatural powers and hot flares?  We even figured he would have an advantage over the blue devil, because if he was blue, he might be “sad.”  Unfortunately, the Sun Devils were out before the true bracket really began.  Better luck next year.

In the middle of all this March Madness, I attended a high school basketball regional tournament to watch my cousin play.  As the game went on, I found myself having less and less fun.  Sure it was great to watch Eric play; but, the peripheral images happening off the court slowly became more and more well-defined.  The fan on the opposing team throwing kisses at the player that caused a foul, allowing her team to shoot for two.  The fan on our side cheering and yelling when the shooting player missed.  Then, finally, one player intentionally and forcefully pushed another.  Likely, words were exchanged down on the court as well; and, I’m sure they weren’t pleasantries.  It made me realize that perhaps I am a little too thin-skinned for team sports.

It’s not always that way.  It’s a blast to go watch kids play and cheer them on, boost their confidence and show them how to work as a team.  Of course, that is a great lesson.  But, somewhere along the way, there is going to be a losing team.  And, no one likes the feeling of losing.  Tears and sullen silence shouldn’t be something we seek out.  It can be heartbreaking and I don’t think I like that.  I know everyone needs to fail in order to learn how to pick themselves up and try again.  In fact, it’s probably one of the most important lessons in life.  However, I don’t think I want to surround myself with watching that too often.  I don’t like watching the dejected faces of the losing team.  Of course, I am sympathetic for the losers; but, too often than not, empathy shows its face too and I mourn the loss along with the opposing team.  I am actually sad for the losers.  Kind of blemishes the short victory I feel for my team’s win.

I might nod and comment here or there on the game, but I can’t really go all in to rejoice with my fellow fans.  In fact, I hope that my friends and family only smile quietly to express their joy.  Certainly don’t want to even more sadden the other team’s fan walking next to us on the way out of the game.  I know, crazy, right?  Celebrate quietly, please.

I think that might stem from a very specific incident of fans celebrating too much – a Chicago Bulls playoff game in 1993.  Of course, I was happy for my friends in Chicago, though I was a little miffed that the local network cut-in during some made for TV movie I was watching, to announce the win.  I watched as Bulls fans swarmed Rush & Division streets, pouring out of the long line of bars to scream and cheer with their fellow Chicagoans.  And, then, in amazement, I watched as a group of those fans jumped on top of a taxicab.  They jumped so much and so hard that it smashed all the windows and flattened the top of the cab to hood level.  And, it didn’t stop there.  They picked up the taxi and through it into the front window of a restaurant.  I was astonished.  Here these fans were supposed to be celebrating a happy event; and, these bad eggs somehow thought it was okay to trash someone’s taxi (probably their source of income) and a local restaurant (that would lose at least a few days of business due to the damage).  It tainted how I felt about sports fans; and, why when I watch those “winners” and their revolting over-celebratory behavior, I am disgusted.

I’m not giving up watching sports, but I think I need to take a little break from the overall large experience.  Good thing the Reds don’t look too hot yet this year.  I won’t have to worry about feeling bad for the losing team or zealous winning fans…at least until Bengals season starts.  #50WeeksTo50

*This concept was based on a conversation my friend Holly and I once had when trying to figure out the perfect mascot that could beat all teams.  Our conclusion was: The Draculas (except in a daygame, of course).