Rites of Spring

Bracket picks and Fantasy baseball.

Although prone to rail about the lunacy of college sports, as promulgated by the NCAA and trumpeted by ESPN, I still watch.  Worse, I still bet.  Though not much on either score.  After the first two days of the NCAA tournament, I'll check in on a game but rarely stick with it for more than a few minutes.  (Unless I'm a captive audience, as was the case Saturday during my Fantasy baseball draft -- seated as I was with the muted HDTV screen at my elbow.)  As for the wager: A mere $10.  A tenspot royally flushed Sunday with losses by selectees Syracuse and Notre Dame.  The latter, my alma mater, I fortunately failed to watch as its senior-laden team made a sadly predictable second-round edit.

Give CBS and its Turner cable partners credit for broadcasting every game in its entirety.  The paired play-by-play announcers have done admirable work, despite the occasional toss to their third appendage (some with hideous hairstyles) for superfluous player insights and coach interviews.  More difficult to endure were pre-game and halftime commentaries by a five-man, arced-stage crew anchored by an unctuous Greg Gumbel and an abrasive Charles Barkley.  After his team's first-round ouster, Rick Pitino joined center arc, however, any pithiness he contributed gave way to the astonishing crow's feet crowning his cheekbones.

What I've seen of the games themselves easily takes "best of show."  Stunning highs and jarring lows, as best illustrated by a Pitt-Butler ending that saw the game swing three ways in the final 2.2 seconds.  For sheer emotion, I'll go with Kansas State's Jacob Pullen who coolly kept his Wildcats apace with Wisconsin only to miss on one of two free throws that would have sent the game into overtime.  Stoic till the end, Pullen collapsed in tears at the buzzer.  And, yes, Butler is back -- coached by an apparent teenager.

Fantasy baseball is just that.  Living the dream.  Ten bucks a pop on each a National League and American League team. As in reality, Fantasy managers look for that mix of speed, power, and pitching. Unlike reality, we enjoy the flexibility of cherry-picking players from different teams to perfect our blend.  (Oops, forgot about the Yankees.)

Fantasy leagues are legion, but I'd wager another Hamilton that ours was the only group that started its NL auction draft with a bid for one Jonathan Lucroy, catcher, Milwaukee.  The Brewers fan among us stole him for a dime.  Lucroy, incidentally, has a broken pinkie.  Pain don't hurt you, as the late Sparky Anderson said.  Are you listening, Brian Wilson (San Francisco closer, not Beach Boys songwriter)?  Mr. Wilson anchors my relief staff.  Alas, Sunday's paper brought news of an oblique strain, sidelining the bearded one for as long as a month.  Anticipating ill fortune, I had chosen one Sergio Romo, another Giants reliever, near the end of the NL draft.  I stole him for a penny.

"It happens every Spring." (Not a bad baseball movie, by the way.)