The Madness of March

The Madness of March has begun. Although there are places in the United States where this “madness” grips people with an immovable power, I am only slightly enraged by this time of year. Of course, I do everything that everyone does during March Madness. I’ve filled out my bracket. I just spent two hours watching four games all at once. I’ve even been trying to keep track of the up and coming stars that may be going pro. But, to be completely honest with you, I am not really a basketball person. Though I enjoy college hoops a lot more than pro ball, it may rank third or tied for fourth in my list of the top team sports. I do have some issues with college basketball that only serve to aggravate my not-so-total enjoyment of the Madness of March. First and perhaps foremost overall is the incredibly long length of the shot clock. It’s almost ridiculous. Thirty-five seconds is an eternity in basketball, especially at the college level. Most of these players would qualify for semi-pro or European teams who play under professional rules with a twenty-four second clock. Giving them eleven more seconds is like giving them free reign over the court. I’m not saying it needs to be reduced to twenty-four seconds, but some reduction might make things just a little more interesting. Second, halves, as opposed to quarters or innings or intervals (thirds), are the stupidest thing to happen to sports in the post high school age group ever. Yes, soccer is played in halves, which is fine for them and their silly little business, but this is basketball. Basketball was wholly invented in the United States and deserves a better treatment than the internationalist ideals of halves. If quarters were introduced to college basketball, think of the awesomeness of the fourth quarter comeback. Think of the reimagining and restructuring of game plans that could happen to engineer the greatest games in history. Imagine the upsets we’ve seen in college basketball and the close calls…now think if they had gone the other way because coaches had a break between a third and fourth quarter to come up with greatness. I’m rambling. Third, I am not really invested in any of these teams. I’m not alum of any of these schools. Sure, I can cheer for the teams that I like and be a bandwagon fan, but I don’t have Texas or UCONN jerseys in my closet. All I can say is good luck to anyone who tries to keep my March Madness under control when the SMU Mustangs make it to the big dance. Enough said about that.

I had one of those soul searching moments today while working alone in the warehouse at work putting up tires from our warehouse delivery. Why am I such a nice guy? I’m one of the nicest guys I know. I’m the nicest guy at my shop. It doesn’t matter what you do or say to me, sooner or later I will forgive and forget. I’ll even go out of my way sometimes. I discount for people who don’t ask for or don’t need discounts. I get my friends ridiculously nice gifts for Christmas and their birthdays. I pick up the check often. I’m a horribly good tipper. I…am a serial nice guy. I think this has even affected my relationships. It’s no mistake that I’ve noticed woman gravitate to guys who treat them like crap. I’m usually the friend who hears about the bad things these guys do. I’m the shoulder that ends up getting cried on. I’m doomed to be the nice guy. Possibly, or as of right now, definitely finishing last in the relationship race amongst my friends. I know that has to do with more than just me being “too” nice a guy. I know I put up walls and am handicapping myself with high standards. This, I mulled over for about 2 hours while throwing tires around in the warehouse. That is what happens when you leave me alone with my thoughts for too long and don’t numb them out with alcohol or TV.

I’m deep.