Aaron’s Extra-Good, 100% Accurate, Completely Unbiased NCAA Bracket Analysis – 2012 Edition

In light of the enduring popularity of last year’s bracket, Mistopia is ready to once again dive into March Madness. 68 teams are entering the dance, but at the end of the day, only one will walk (or hobble) away with a pair of high-quality nets from New Orleans.

Round 1
The first four games continue to baffle me. Each of these teams has oozed blood, sweat, and tears for this moment: a shot at being the knocked out in the next round by a team that actually deserves to be in the tournament. VCU did prove me wrong last year, but I’m confident the 2012 crop won’t repeat the feat.

Miss Valley State over Western Kentucky — the Hilltoppers’ freshmen are no match for Miss Valley State’s experience.

Iona over BYU — Scott Machado can carry the Gaels at least this far.

Lamar over Vermont — Bobby Knight’s son won’t go home just yet.

South Florida over California — Cal choked vs Colorado and USF went down to Notre Dame. Edge: The defensive might of the Bulls.

Round 2
We’ve got some of the weaker basketball games out of the way, but we’re not out of the woods yet. Onwards toward glory! (Or soul-crushing disappointment, depending).

SOUTH

Kentucky over Miss Valley State — this one’s no contest, and a great example of why the previous round should be considered “cruel and unusual punishment.”

UConn over Iowa State — the Huskies have enough gas in the tank for one good game.

VCU over Wichita State — I’ll avoid jinxing myself by knocking VCU out on their first game this time around.

New Mexico State over Indiana — the Hoosiers suffered some unfortunate injuries, and the Aggies are a tougher team than they look on paper.

UNLV over Colorado — the Buffaloes haven’t seen the NCAA from anywhere but their living rooms since 2003. The Rebels will advance.

Baylor over South Dakota — the Bears have beaten Kansas. They can handle a few Jackrabbits.

Notre Dame over Xavier — the luck o’ the Irish will keep them from falling flat just yet.

Duke over Lehigh — much as I detest the Blue Devils, Lehigh won’t be able to knock ’em out of the Dance.

WEST

Michigan State over LIU Brooklyn — the Spartans will march all over the Blackbirds, no matter how impressive their alley-oops have been in the past.

Memphis over St. Louis — the Billikens haven’t been to the tourney for more than a decade, which make’s ’em Tiger food.

New Mexico over Long Beach State — Long Beach won both championships in the Big West, but the Lobos boast a deep bench that’ll give them that extra edge.

Louisville over Davidson — The Cardinals have a strong enough defense to blunt Davidson’s assault, and put consistent (if hardly impressive) numbers on the board to advance.

Murray State over Colorado State — Murry State’s mostly made up of juniors, and that experience has helped them become the only single-loss team in the tourney. They’ll advance.

Marquette over Iona — The Golden Eagles can really put up the points, so long as they avoid a much larger team that can beat them on the boards. Iona can’t outpace them and will end up short.

Florida over Virginia — With VA’s Brogdon and Sene out, Scott can only carry his team so far. The Gators’ strong perimeter style will prevail.

Missouri over Norfolk — The Tigers have a lot more offensive power than Norfolk knows how to handle.

EAST

Syracuse over UNC-Asheville — The Bulldogs owned the Big South and deserve their spot here, but they’re no match for Syracuse.

Southern Miss over Kansas State — The Golden Eagles upset the Wildcats with consistent, unselfish play and by abusing Kansas State’s poor performance at the charity stripe.

Vanderbilt over Harvard — Vanderbilt has at least two (and maybe three) players going pro next year; the Crimson is a respectable team, but they lack that kind of raw talent. Plus, Vander just beat Kentucky. They’ll move on.

Wisconsin over Montana — The Badgers will put up a tenacious defense that Montana just can’t match.

Cincinnatiover Texas— The Longhorns have J’Covan Brown, but the injury sidelining Wangmene points to a Bearcats victory.

FSU over St. Bonaventure — Florida State has six seniors, and that kind of experience will pay off for at least one more round.

WVU over Gonzaga — As long as Jones and Bryant stay out of foul trouble, the Mountaineers have the edge here.

Ohio State over Loyola — There have been times when 15 seeds upset 2 seeds, but this is not one of them.

MIDWEST

UNC over Lamar — Lamar’s a solid team with a good coach, but Roy and the Tarheels are in a league of their own.

Creighton over Alabama — the Tide’s lack of discipline will be their downfall here as foul trouble and panicked plays nudge Creighton onward.

Temple over South Florida — The Owls manage to hold on, but it’ll be more of a struggle than it should be.

Michigan over Ohio — Ohio’s a good team, but they can’t match Michigan’s backcourt talent.

NC State over San Diego State — The Wolfpack has proven they can hang with the likes of Duke and UNC; they’ll inch forward here looking for another shot at a powerful team.

Georgetown over Belmont — The Hoyas have a balanced squad, and Belmont will simply be outplayed here despite their deep bench.

Purdue over St. Mary’s — Robbie Hummel deserves to advance here, and will work harder to do so than the Gaels can handle.

Kansas over Detroit — The Jayhawks may not be the talk of the town, but they’ve got enough talent to take down Detroit.

Round 3
We’re left with a collection of likely and unlikely teams that are all still nursing high hopes. Some harsh lessons will be learned this round, and while most will involve knowing your place, a few will teach the value of humility.

SOUTH

Kentucky over UCON — The buck stops here for the Huskies; Kentucky’s just too strong.

VCU over New Mexico State — The magic of last year’s run is still alive and well. For now.

Baylor over UNLV — Baylor’s a very athletic team, and will wear down UNLV for the win.

Duke over Notre Dame — Again, I want to send the Blue Devils home, but I just don’t think the Irish have enough fight in ’em to do the trick.

WEST

Michigan State over Memphis — Despite the Tiger’s NBA-caliber talent, Michigan State works better as a team.

Louisville over New Mexico — It was all the Lobos could do to get here; the Cardinals will put ’em down for the count.

Marquette over Murray State — Buzz Williams’ offbeat style will win the day over the Racer’s predictable pacing.

Missouri over Florida — The Gators are good, but they’re not THAT good.

EAST

Syracuse over Southern Miss — There’s no way the Orange will let themselves be sent home this early.

Vanderbilt over Wisconsin — The Badgers boast a powerful defense, but eventually you have to outscore your opponent.

Cincinnati over FSU — Florida State has beaten some of the best teams in the country and took home the ACC tourney to prove it, but Cincinnati’s tough. After a close match, the Seminoles march home.

Ohio State over WVU — The darlings of Morgantown will come up short against Sullinger and company as long as they refrain from taking pot shots from the arc.

MIDWEST

UNC over Creighton — Creighton puts up a lot of points, but not more than Carolina can handle.

Michigan over Temple — The Owls had a hard time getting here; Michigan will gently show them back to the bleachers.

NC State over Georgetown — It’s an upset, sure, but the Wolfpack is used to that this year. Expect a fast-paced, brutal game.

Kansas over Purdue — It’s a close match, but Purdue’s 2-7 vs Top 25 teams. Plus, and Kansas is better at the boards.

Round 4
There aren’t many surprises this year in the Sweet Sixteen — these programs know what they’re doing, are hungry to advance, and have the talent to do it.

SOUTH

Kentucky over VCU — The fairy tale ends here for the Rams; no matter how many times you steal the ball, sometimes you have to put it in the hoop afterward. Go with the sure thing here.

Baylor over Duke — The Blue Devils have been inconsistent all year, and Baylor has the staying power to shut them down hard.

WEST

Michigan State over Louisville — Michigan State is a little undisciplined, but should be able to pull off this win.

Missouri over Marquette — Missouri has a power-packed team, and Marquette won’t be able to exploit their merely adequate defenses for the upset.

EAST

Vanderbilt over Syracuse — Melo is out and Vanderbilt has defeated top-ranked teams before when they were at full power.

Cincinnatiover Ohio State — Early foul trouble for Sullinger swings the ball to a somewhat surprising contender.

MIDWEST

UNC over Michigan — The Wolverines struggle against talented big men, and Zeller may be more than they can handle.

Kansas over NC State — NC State has a history, and it involves getting tired after a few games. Edge to Kansas for this one.

Round 5
Welcome to the Elite Eight: a trio of 1 seeds, a pair of 2s, a 3 seed, a 5th seed, and a 6th seed. That seems like a good mix of luck and skill to me.

Kentucky over Baylor — Much as I would like to see Baylor pull this one off, their 1-4 record vs Top 25 teams shows a glaring weakness I just can’t ignore.

Missouri over Michigan State — The Spartans lack the poise to stay focused, opening the door for a minor upset.

Vanderbilt over Cincinnati — It was a good run for Cinci, but Vanderbilt’s got more raw talent.

UNC over Kansas — Kansas isn’t a bad team and matches up well with UNC. Provided the Tarheels are healthy, their experience gives them an advantage here.

Round 6
The Final Four. The field has narrowed significantly now, and the players are starting to feel real fatigue. It’ll all be worth it if they can just pull it together for two more games, but that’s easier said than done.

Kentucky over Missouri — Missouri’s powerful players finally go down to Calipari’s Wildcats.

UNC over Vanderbilt — UNC’s experienced roster knows how to handle the high-octane energy of the tournament better. Vanderbilt will run out of steam after a long, surprising run.

Round 7
Two will enter. They’re both number one seeds, which makes me nervous, and only one will be leaving with heads held high. SPOILER ALERT: They’ll be wearing blue.

UNC over Kentucky — As long as the Tarheels have their full roster, they’ll be able to outmaneuver an opposing team where four of the top seven players have never been to the NCAA before.

And there you have it, a completely unbiased approach to the 2012 NCAA. Best of luck with your own brackets, and feel free to send me a portion of the sweet, sweet loot you collect from your friends and family after putting this valuable advice to good use.

I’m No Doctor, But I Play One on TV

Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny, resplendent with a flawlessly blue sky which showcased the iconic Hollywood sign clearly above their grassy field.

The area was ostensibly reserved for dogs and their owners, a point hammered home by the large “No Futbol” signs scattered throughout the park among the picnic tables and trees. Since no other sports were barred, each week two dozen young adults gathered for a game or ten of pick-up disc-slinging.

“Throw it here! I’m open!” a white-shirted man yelled, hurtling down the field as quickly as possible.

The two men in dark jerseys shadowing him made his claim a dubious one, but his teammate sized the shot up anyway. He was called Snatch, and he’d earned this title by having the stickiest fingers to ever hold a disc; the man was worth the benefit of the doubt.

Will, playing for the dark team, watched helplessly from the center of the field as the handler made an optimistic long-shot toward the endzone.

“HAMMER!” he screamed, as if the sonic reverberations from his voice could somehow disrupt the flying disc.

The world moved in slow motion as Snatch wove a delicate tapestry of evasive maneuvers around his double-team, leaping into the air and extending his arms fully to trap the Frisbee mere moments before it struck the ground. The two men covering him looked at each other and shrugged; there was nothing more they could have done.

Another point for white.

As the dark team jogged back toward the far end of the field, a crowd began to gather in the middle. After a brief commotion, Elya emerged carrying Nay cradled in his arms. He walked over to one of the shaded picnic areas and laid her on the wooden table, stepping aside as the various players currently out of the game huddled over to see what they could do to help.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, everything’s fine!” Nay said, grabbing a handful of duffel bags at random and propping one of her legs onto the mound to elevate her rapidly-swelling ankle.

Elya nodded and returned to the field, where the others were waiting to continue the game.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that your boyfriend didn’t carry you off the field, or even bother to come check on you?” someone asked.

Nay laughed, shaking her head. “Elya was closer, and there’s nothing Dev could have done to help. He’s no doctor, and there’s the game to finish. Plus, he needs to avenge me!”

The group broke into a nervous cuckle, releasing some of the built-up tension as people walked up to poke and prod at the damaged joint while nodding thoughtfully and offering helpful advice such as “Wow, it’s really swollen!” and “Does this hurt?”. The closest thing on the field to a doctor was a former medical journalist and a current personal trainer, neither of whom had any idea what to do next, and it was soon decided that a wait-and-see approach would be best for this situation.

The gorgeous morning faded into a beautiful afternoon, and after a couple more hours the battered, exhausted group called it a day.

“It always sucks when something like that happens,” Aaron said to Will as they headed to their car, glancing over to where Dev was helping Nay carefully hobble to their own nearby vehicle.

Will nodded and unlocked the doors. “Yeah, but it’ll be ok. Nay’s tough, and Dev’ll take care of her.”

“Some of the guys were giving him crap for not hurrying off the field immediately to fawn over her,” Aaron said. He frowned, unscrewing the cap to his water bottle absently. “I’m not sure what I think about that.”

“I noticed that too, but Nay knows Dev cares. Elya was closer and willing to help, and thus Nay didn’t need Dev to leave the game and become another member of the fake doctor swarm assaulting her on the sidelines.”

Aaron laughed, shaking his head at the memory. “Why do people do that, anyway? It can’t possibly help. Doctors might figure out exactly what’s wrong, but if you or I do it we’re not actually troubleshooting for solutions – we’re just causing pain.”

“Why do people do anything?” Will grinned. “It makes them feel good. In this case, it makes them feel like they’re helping.”

“I don’t often say this, Will,” Aaron said, pausing to take a swig of water and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “But you’re probably right.”

The Gallon Challenge

“Today we’re doing Staff Sergeants,” Aaron said, stretching an arm back over his head and carefully applying pressure to his elbow.

“Those sound intimidating,” Will frowned, following suit by shaking his arms to loosen them. “What are they?”

“It’s something I learned when I worked for the Marines that should kick your butt.”

The pair were standing in a large, sandy area of Plummer Park, a popular haunt frequented by sunbathers, tennis players, and puppy parents. This section of the park was dotted with pull-up bars of varying heights, monkey bars, and parallel bars, which made it a favorite of unemployed gymnasts, athletes, and others who could ill afford an actual gym membership.

The air was dry and hot without being overly unpleasant, and the sun was shining brightly through a scattered veil of clouds; it was perfect weather for a workout.

Aaron walked over the a small brick wall which separated the sandy workout area from the sidewalk and counted 10 bricks across. Setting his keys on top of the tenth brick, he turned back to Will and cracked his knuckles.

“Ok, here’s how it works,” he said, motioning to the pull-up bars. “You’re going to alternate between pull-ups and push-ups, and you’re going to alternate between a pyramid and an endurance test.”

Will nodded slowly, glancing at the bar with a mixture of confidence and trepidation.

“However many pull-ups you can do in one go is your starting number, minimum 10. Let’s assume you’re starting at 10 for simplicity’s sake. You’ll do 10 pull-ups and 20 push-ups immediately. Then you’ll move the keys down a brick to keep track of the count and wait 30 seconds, after which you’ll do 9 pull-ups and 20 push-ups, then 8 and 20, and so on. Got it?”

“What happens at after the last one?” Will asked, absently pulling an ankle toward his back to stretch the leg. “We’re done?”

Aaron grinned. “Halfway. After you finish 1 and 20, you’ll do 1 and 20 again and work your way back up to 10 and 20.”

“Why do I get the feeling this will be harder than it sounds?”

“If it’s not, you’re doing it wrong,” Aaron laughed. “At the bare minimum, you’re doing 110 pull-ups and 400 push-ups in about 10 minutes. If you start at 15 or so, it gets even higher. Just remember that you don’t necessarily go down to 1; you go down 10 times and then back up 10 times, so starting at 15 means your bottom rung will be 5.”

“Well, what’re we waiting for? Let’s do it!”

As the two began their aggressive workout, they couldn’t help but notice a group of high school kids gathering around the nearby tennis courts with a video camera. It was difficult to see what was happening in the 30 seconds between sets, but it looked for all the world like the group was recording some sort of feat of strength.

“What do you think they’re doing over there?” Will panted, stretching his arms against the brick wall, acutely aware that precious seconds of resting time were rapidly dissolving into nothingness.

Aaron shrugged, wiping sweat out of his eyes and squinting for a better look.

“Two of them have jugs of milk,” he ventured. “Could they be doing the Gallon Challenge?”

“They ARE!” Will exclaimed, laughing. “It’s physically impossible. Let’s finish this up so we can watch them fail!”

For the uninitiated, the Gallon Challenge is as simple as it is daunting: you must drink an entire gallon of whole milk within an hour. You lose if you run out of time or if you fail to keep the milk down during the challenge; popular opinion holds that a human stomach simply cannot contain that much milk all at once, nor can it digest it quickly enough to make the necessary room within an hour.

Still, the stakes are typically on the order of “$20 plus bragging rights”, which is about all it takes to make something popular with teenagers and college students.

From the snippets of conversation heard from their workout arena, they learned there were two challengers in the group, both of whom had about a fifth of their milk to go and less than 10 minutes left on the clock.

The cameraman was doing his best to heckle them into chugging what remained of their beverages, while off to one side a guitarist who had previously been relaxing on a park bench and seemed to have no relation to the group at all had begun to play Eye of the Tiger to set the appropriate mood.

Despite their best efforts, the challengers found themselves with quite a bit of milk left as they entered the final minute. Looking at each other with expressions of terror and resignation, they clanked their jugs together and began a desperate race to the finish line.

At first it looked as if both would succeed, but soon one and then the other sputtered, gasped, and choked on the thick liquid, spitting it out and dropping their containers to the ground.

Failure.

Laughing to themselves and remembering similar attempts their own friends had made in the past, Aaron and Will were caught off-guard when a camera swung into their faces.

“You’ve just witnessed the heroic attempt – and colossal failure – of the Gallon Challenge,” the cameraman announced with excitement. “Care to share your comments?”

“Well, it looks like you your boys were drinking 1%,” Will said, raising an eyebrow toward him.

This was clearly not what the cameraman expected, and his expression did nothing to hide his confusion.

“Um…yeah. So?”

“So it wouldn’t have counted even if they’d done it. The Gallon Challenge requires whole milk.”

The two contenders’ eyes widened as they looked at each other, then at Will, and then down at the remnants of their milk seeping into the grass. One turned to the camera, looking stern.

“Mikey, when you put this on YouTube, I want you to do something for me.”

“Yeah?” the teen asked, looking puzzled. “What do you want me to do?”

“Leave that part out.”

It’s All Small Stuff

Five men were resting in the outdoor seating area of a local bistro, enjoying the cool breeze under a sky just cloudy enough to dull the omnipresent warmth of the sun.

Passersby stared as they traversed the sidewalk, and for good reason: the men were a mess.  Bedecked in matching red jerseys and covered with dirt, sweat, and grass stains, they stood out among the early Sunday afternoon crowd like a lighthouse beacon sweeping the breakers of a midnight shore.

They were, of course, recovering from a soccer game, and fate had not been kind.  They had played marvelous games in the past, matches where the score remained tied due to the excellent diligence of offensive and defensive plays weaving a tapestry of tactics onto the pitch that neither team could overcome.  Matches undecided until a desperate push at the end culminated with a perfect series of passes and a powerful shot rocketing into the upper 90 just before the final whistle.  Oh, the reception of such a triumph!  The cheering of the crowd and the roar of your own enthusiastic teammates running around the pitch in exhilaration, heedless of the body’s constant demands for oxygen, water, and rest!  These are the moments that remind you why you worked so hard and sacrificed so much for the sport, steeped in the glory and love of the game!

This was not such a match.

The opposing team was sloppy and slow, hurling the ball down the field and out of bounds every time they touched it.  This was no finesse team; there were no surgical passes laced neatly through the scattered ranks of defenders expertly goaded into an improper formation.  This was a team of oxen and bulldozers, smashing through players and plays like a trail guide with a machete, headless of direction or strategy.

With such a plan in effect, our team could not help but control the ball for the majority of the game.  Shot after shot rattled off the posts, over the crossbar, and just wide of the target, while dozens more found there way into the gaping maw of their keeper’s gauntlets.  As a smaller team, our players bounced off their ogres like pebbles thrown against a canyon, and try though we might we could not convert possession into points.

And so when, in the final hour, a mighty punt from the opposing keeper landed at the feet of their enormous forward scant yards from the goal, there was nothing for it but to bring him to the ground hard and fast.  This action did not go unnoticed by our watchful referee, and the ball returned to the opposing team for a place kick.

Expert deflection on the part of the keeper sent the ball to the corner in what were to be the final seconds of the match.  The air was thick and tense, with 20 players crowded in the 18-yard box.  The soft thwack of leather on leather heralded the ball’s arrival, and it soared through the air over 20 sets of eyes.  Five players jumped into the air, leaping from the matted pitch like puppies after a treat.  Four wore red. The fifth was their enormous, foul-tempered forward, a juggernaut who bellowed with an unearthly rage as his powerful legs somehow coaxed his body into flight.

When the dust settled, only he yet stood.  He was three feet from the goal.  And he had the ball.

The keeper shouted and rushed him in desperation, charging like a bear with outstretched arms.  The sweeper screamed too, unable to stop his advance and slamming into the forward’s torso as a teammate executed a side-on slide tackle in an attempt to wrest the ball from its precarious perch.  The forward staggered, assailed from three angles, and as he reeled his right foot sent the ball toward the goal a splitsecond after the tackle knocked it into the air.

Swish.

The whistle blew.  The game was over.

And so the five were discussing other things, having experienced more than enough soccer for one day.

“You know the bartender I was talking to earlier?” Blake said, poking at his half-eaten plate of biscuits and gravy absently.  “The one who brought Aaron his ridiculous cheese, potato, and chili disaster?”

“Hey now, it’s delici…” Aaron started.

“And a defibrillator,” Will nodded, interrupting.  “Yeah, what about him?”

“I know him.  He was supposed to be going to Hawaii – got a job there and everything – a little while back.  Bought loads of going away drinks and such.”

Glenn frowned, taking a sip from his glass of water before speaking through a mouthful of corned beef hash, “So why’s he still here?”

“Turns out he got a lady here pregnant, so he turned down the Hawaii job to stick around,” Blake said, lowering his voice slightly.

Brian whistled softly, “Better man than most.”

“Yeah, he’s actually doing ok with it now that he’s adjusted to the idea,” Blake nodded.  “He jokes about it all the time.”

When the time came to pay the bill, Blake took one look at the receipt and burst out laughing.

“What’s up?” Aaron asked, taking the paper from his hands.  A single glance down the itemized prices held his answer, as listed among the various foods and drinks was an extra line, which read: 1 Baby ………  (FREE)

The bartender came down to collect the bill, unable to suppress his grin.  “It’s a great bargain!” he said.  “You can even have all the baby shower stuff.  Extra good!”

Blake shook his head slightly.  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your impending sleep deprivation, but thanks anyway.”

“Had to try,” the bartender said, frowning.  “I’ve got to do something.  She wants to go CLOTH.”  He blanched.  “Now that’s a sacrifice that seems unreasonable.”

We limped back toward the car quietly, lost in a combination of our own thoughts and the onset of a food coma.

“You’re looking thoughtful…what’s up?” Aaron said, glancing at Glenn.

He shrugged.  “Oh, nothing.  It just…that puts the game, work, life…everything into perspective, you know?”

We nodded quietly.  It certainly did.

Thirsting for Vengeance

Our winter season of kickball ended in late February with a bitter playoff defeat involving biased officiation, bad luck, and – perhaps most glaringly – a lack of appropriate pre-gaming on the part of our opposition.  With all the chips on the table and the score tied at the bottom of the final inning, we could only watch as their batter bunted a runner on third home for a one-point victory.

It was heartbreaking.

While the loss was assuaged somewhat by a 2nd place finish in the following team flipcup tournament, we yearned for more.  A proud team destined for glory, we resigned ourselves to countless hours of grueling practice to hone our bodies and minds for the spring season.  This preparation was vital to our inevitable resurrection, phoenix-like, from the cold embers of a bygone era.

The day of the first game dawned gray and dreary, with a sort of palpable misery infused throughout the sky.  Gusts of arctic wind swirled along the rain-slick city streets surrounding our M St. office building, and as each teammate arrived at work we shared forlorn expressions and shook our heads sadly at the impending doom that was the heavens’ proclamation.

We would have been skeptical even without nature’s help; unknown to our captain until recently, the league had added surplus players to our roster.  A few would have been fine, but by nearly doubling our numbers they effectively halved our expected playtime – a hefty blow when we were only playing half of each game already.

The combination of weather and the roster proved too much for our fragile morale, and we spent the day quietly going about our business, waiting for the clock to strike five.  As the moment drew nigh, a group of coworkers gathered around our captain’s desk for a much-needed team huddle.

“Did anybody else get that email?” Laura asked, absently tucking a stray strand of curly brown hair behind her ear.

“The one from that guy with the weird name?” Andrew said.  “Yeah, we got it.  From Jim Burger or something?”

Laura laughed, “That’s the one!  The guy who was complaining about lack of communication and such. ”  She sobered slightly, appalled.  “I communicate just fine!”

“If he wanted communication, he should have known us already,” said Amy in a tone halfway between malicious and sarcastic.  “Anyway, can we talk about how much the weather reminds me of velociraptors today?”  She shivered slightly and crossed her arms.  “Dangerous.”

“You’re right, we’ll leave McDouble out of this,” Laura grinned.  “I actually have good news and bad news, depending on how you look at it.”

“How’s that?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Laura gave me a mocking grin, ” As you should know, Mr. Window, today is abysmal, right?”  She paused until I nodded in acknowledgement before continuing.  “Right.  And the league has a no-rain-out guarantee.  Any time a game is cancelled due to weather, we get free beer at the sponsoring bar.”

The mood brightened visibly, and she raised a hand to temper that excitement.  “That’s the good news.  The bad news – strangely – is that the game hasn’t been canceled yet.”

“But it’s death’s doorstep out there,” Alyssa said, stabbing an accusatory finger toward the nearest windowpane.  “We didn’t sign up to drink and play water polo.”

“True,” said Andrew, nodding sagely.  “We just signed up to drink.  I say we just go to the bar anyway and -” he was cut off by Laura’s cell phone, which vibrated noisily on her desk and clattered against her keyboard.

“The league!” she said, scooping it up.  “Hello?  Speaking…Yes, of course….oh, no!…No, we understand…Of course.  Thanks, bye!”

Setting the phone aside, she gave us a big thumbs up and grinned, “So…who’s thirsty?”

We looked at each other and laughed.  Redemption is a process, after all.  It could wait a little longer.

Aaron’s Extra-Good, 100% Accurate, Completely Unbiased NCAA Bracket Analysis

It’s finally getting warming outside, and now that we’ve snapped our clocks forward an hour to cram as much sunlight as possible into our crowded commutes home each day it’s time to focus on what really matters – college basketball.

I’ve been eagerly anticipating the NCAA tournament ever since the Tarheels were sent limping to the NIT last year.  I can already tell this will be a tale of redemption, punctuated by edge-of-the-seat theatrics and plenty of daring-do, and I can’t wait to see what happens.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t claim to be an expert on all things basketball (or anything basketball, really).  Follow these picks at your own risk.

Round 1
I can’t possibly be alone in thinking these first games are a waste of time, can I?  This year brings a collection of 8 teams brawling for the right to be publicly humiliated a day or two later by a bone-crushing powerhouse of a squad that’s rested and chomping at the bit to get their tournament run started properly.

East
16 Alabama over 16 UT-San Antonio – there are enough Texan teams already
12 Clemson over 12 UAB – the Tigers are good enough to reach Round 2

Southwest
11 USC over 11 VCU – the Rams used up their mojo already when they beat Mason and UCLA earlier this year

Southeast
16 NC-Asheville over 16 Ark.-Little Rock – North Carolina needs more representation

Round 2
And they’re off!  Here’s where things get good.  Or at least better.  I tend make judgments based on past performance more than on ranking, and of course I’m biased toward my regional schools.  Here’s what I think/hope will happen when the dust settles.

East
1 Ohio St. over 16 Alabama St. – this will be fun to watch unless you’re a Hornet
9 Villanova over 8 George Mason – Nova’s hurting from a string of losses, but they’ll rally for exactly one win
5 WVU over 12 Clemson – tired Tigers will fall to the Mountaineers’ barrage
4 Kentucky over 13 Princeton – the ivy league is outclassed here
6 Xavier over 11 Marquette – Musketeers are better than a 6 seed has any right to be
3 Syracuse over 14 Indiana St. – Orange’s powerful start to the season kicks back in, mostly to keep my  mother happy
7 Washington over 10 Georgia – Georgia’s only here thanks to Richmond; neither will survive this round
2 UNC over 15 Long Island – the underrated Tarheels are really good when they’re on and terrible when they’re off, but either version should do vs. Long Island

West
1 Duke over 16 Hampton – even Duke can’t lose to Hampton
8 Michigan over 9 Tennessee – could go either way, but Michigan wants it more
5 Arizona over 12 Memphis – Arizona is 2-5 vs. the top 50; they’ll advance once
4 Texas over 13 Oakland – like Syracuse, Texas is putting itself back together just in time
11 Missouri over 6 Cincinnati – Cincinnati is upset, unable to recover from the drubbing Notre Dame gave them in the Big East
3 UCONN over 14 Bucknell – the Huskies are good this year, and Bucknell?  Really, really isn’t.
7 Temple over 10 Penn St. – the Owls have one victory in them owing to their awesome name
2 San Diego St. over 15 No. Colorado – San Diego’s record isn’t good vs. top 25 teams, but they’ll live to fight another day

Southwest
1 Kansas over 16 Boston U. – the Big 12’s undisputed champion will demolish Boston
9 Illinois over 8 UNLV – despite playing great ball right now, I predict an Illinois surge for the upset
5 Vanderbilt over 12 Richmond – with five wins vs. the top 50, Vanderbilt should cruise over the Spiders
4 Louisville over 13 Morehead St. – Louisville advances, but won’t get far
6 Georgetown over 11 USC – there’s enough gas in the tank for the Hoyas to drop a team of Trojans exhausted from their struggle vs. VCU
3 Purdue over 14 St. Peter‘s – I’m proud of St. Peter’s for getting here, but the miracle ends now
7 Texas A&M over 10 Florida St. – FSU shouldn’t be dancing this year; A&M will correct the oversight
2 Notre Dame over 15 Akron – the Fighting Irish are (finally) good again

Southeast
1 PITT over 16 NC–Asheville – it’s over for the Bulldogs before it really begins
8 Butler over 9 Old Dominion – Dominion is on a winning streak, but Butler retains it’s magic from last year – for now
5 Kansas St. over 12 Utah St. – there are plenty of teams that can drop Kansas St., but this isn’t one of them
4 Wisconsin over 13 Belmont – Badgers over Belmont all the way
6 St. John‘s over 11 Gonzaga – St. John’s is a giant killer; it needs a win here to go hunting for giants.
3 BYU over 14 Wofford – Wofford can’t maintain the offensive pressure needed to win here, despite having much of last year’s talent back on the roster
7 UCLA over 10 Michigan St. – Spartans might upset UCLA, but it would surprise me
2 Florida over 15 UC Santa Barb. – Gators should have no trouble cleaning up here

Round 3
Now that all the big names have enjoyed what amounts to a “bye” and a few of the mid-ranking teams have been upset, it’s time to watch some decent match-ups.

East
Ohio St. over Villanova – after struggling with Mason, Nova has nothing left for this much stronger team
WVU over Kentucky – minor upset as the Mountaineers win a close one.  Couches will burn in Morgantown.
Syracuse over Xavier – the buck stops here for the Musketeers
UNC over Washington – Carolina shouldn’t feel challenged yet, though they soon shall

West
Duke over Michigan – the Blue Devils are looking to repeat this year; sadly, Michigan can do nothing to stop them
Texas over Arizona – again, like Syracuse, Texas is returning to power and making their run
UCONN over Missouri – there’s still gas in the tank for Connecticut’s pack
San Diego St. over Temple – San Diego is a weak #2 seed, but still good enough to advance

Southwest
Kansas over Illinois – surprising no one, Jayhawks advance with ease
Louisville over Vanderbilt – ‘bilt goes down, setting up a bird vs. bird showdown next round
Purdue over Georgetown – without Wright, the Hoyas fall
Notre Dame over Texas A&M – the Fighting Irish push through to the next round

Southeast
PITT over Butler – no Disney ending over Duke last year, and an early end to the storybook drive this time around
Wisconsin over Kansas St. – the better team loses here, beaten by pressure and fatigue. And Badgers.
St. John’s over BYU – Look, a giant to kill!
Florida over UCLA – the Bruins have been looking shaky; this is as far as they go

Sweet Sixteen
Now that most of the fluff has been removed from the tournament, we’re left with a sleek collection of polished programs, a couple rough-around-the-edges teams that are nonetheless dangerous, and a tiny splash of upset power to make things interesting.

East
Ohio St. over WVU – the Mountaineers just can’t repel firepower of that magnitude
UNC over Syracuse – a very close match, but Roy Williams can manage the clock in the 2nd half like none other.  Edge: Carolina

West
Duke over Texas – I’ll be cheering for Texas even as they lose
UCONN over San Diego St. – the Huskies triumph here mostly to prove they should have been seeded #2

Southwest
Kansas over Louisville – this should be a fantastic game, but the Jayhawks overpower the Cardinals on the court to win the day
Notre Dame over Purdue – end of the line for the Boilermakers, whose luck can’t match the Irish.

Southeast
PITT over Wisconsin – the Badgers have met their match here
St. John‘s over Florida – the vorpal blade went snicker-snack

Elite Eight
The field has narrowed almost entirely to the big schools familiar with the territory and how to survive in a fast-and-furious tournament setting without spending your resources too quickly.  Tension mounts!

East
UNC over Ohio St. – the Buckeyes are the better team, but I don’t care

West
UCONN over Duke – the Huskies should be more rested after dealing with San Diego than the Blue Devils will be after dealing with Texas.  Duke, tragically, chokes here

Southwest
Notre Dame over Kansas – the Jayhawks underestimate their foe and fall in a surprising upset

Southeast
PITT over St. John’s – they just don’t make vorpal blades like they used to

Final Four
And then there were four – big names all, though the field could have produced four entirely different big names and nobody would have been surprised.

East/West
UNC over UCONN – the Huskies are finally out of gas after their exhausting run toward the top.  If you think this should be Ohio St. over Duke, you can make your own bracket :P

Southwest/Southeast
PITT over Notre Dame – if there’s one thing you can count on with Notre Dame, it’s that they will eventually choke.  Now is that time.

Championship
This is it!  For all the marbles!  And my surprising, completely unbiased prediction?

UNC over PITT – angry from a 2nd place NIT finish last year, the Tarheels rocket back to where they belong and live happily ever after.  The end.

So there you have it.  A completely candid look at the field complete with detailed, professional analysis to help you pierce the veil of the future and catch a glimpse of the inevitable.

It’s sure to be an excellent tournament no matter who wins (unless it’s Duke), so be sure to check out the action when Round One begins in Dayton on March 15!

Kickball, Flip Cup, & Other Sports

Five friends from work are sitting around a table piled high with beer, mozzarella sticks, and nachos, unwinding from another hectic workday in the usual manner.

For weeks the routine has gone unchanged: meet up after work, wander to a local bar with good happy hour deals, and banter for a few hours before heading home. Normally the banter follows a predictable pattern, but on this particular day the conversation has taken a more interesting turn.

Laura: So, I have this plan…
Andrew: This should be good.
Laura: No, really. How do you feel about kickball?
Bob: Emotionally?
Amy: Baseball with dodgeballs, right?
Aaron: I like where this is going.
Laura: We should totally start a kickball team! We can play on happy hour days after we do the happy hour part.
Aaron: I like where this went.
Amy: Fun! But there’s snow everywhere…
Andrew: It’ll be indoor. I’m in. Let’s do it.
Bob: Yeah, why not?
Laura: Sweet! Details to follow.

Eventually we did get signed up for kickball, with Laura accidentally becoming our captain “because it was her idea”. We decided on a social league that’s more about pregaming and post-game fun than about kickball itself and got our roster ready to go. The league is co-ed; teams field 7 players at a time, of which 3 must be female. Our group consists of 3 guys and 2 girls, so we recruited another 3 girls and 2 guys to round things out. We got lucky with them, too; they turned out to be pretty good players and really fun people.

So far we’re undefeated! We’ve only played one game, but what a game it was!

The other team had never played before either, so we were all learning as we went. They managed to pick up on the nuances more quickly than us, and it was 4 – 9 by the end of the fourth inning. Fortunately we rallied hard in the fifth with an inning as ridiculous as it was unbelievable, and the game ended with a score of 36 – 12, us. Go team!

The kickball league has a sponsoring bar, and every team tends to end up there at some point during game nights. This was no exception, and our team happily headed out into the night to kick off a round of celebration.

Once there, we ran into a bevy of other kickball teams (and a smattering of dodgeball teams, too), including players from the team we had just played. Our opponents, in a shrewd maneuver steeped in cunning, immediately challenged us to a game of flip cup to redeem themselves, which we were more than happy to accept. We went 3 – 1, shook hands, and called it a night as far as “competitive events” was concerned.

Later, as the bar slowly emptied of colorful shirts and exaggerated rivalries, our original group of five looked around ourselves.

Laura: *with a grin* So, how do you feel about kickball?
All of us: Best. Idea. Ever.

Go! Fight! Win?

It was the final soccer game of the regular season. Playoffs were just around the corner, and our team was tied for 3rd place. Standings for our league were calculated using a point system, meaning you couldn’t just “win” to succeed – you also needed to score a lot more points overall than you surrendered throughout the season.

We needed to win this game with a score of 5-0 to get the best seeding possible – a daunting challenge in the world of soccer, but as the other team had only 11 players compared to our 16, we felt it good about our chances.

Or we did until just after kickoff.

The game was an unmitigated disaster. Passes hit the wrong target in the wrong place at the wrong time, shots sailed everywhere except between the posts, and 50/50 balls were consistently bobbled into the sidelines. We had no trouble keeping possession of the ball, but it was impossible to do anything useful with it. Winning through “keep away” was going to land us in a bad playoff bracket despite our best intentions. Finally, after pushing and clawing for 30 minutes, a talented forward dribbled through three separate defenders and buried the ball into the back of the net.

By the time the whistle blew to signal the half, everyone on the field was thoroughly frustrated and demoralized – us for being unable to do anything with a ball we always controlled, and them for never actually having control of the ball.

The score at halftime: 1 – nil, us.

We started the second half in the same formation and immediately punched the ball back into enemy territory, only to quickly be repulsed. A rapid succession of passes later found our fullbacks too far up the field, scrambling to defend a counterattack. Fortunately the cursed goal we had been shooting on in the first half served us well in the second, and their eventual shot soared high and wide, planting the ball deep into the surrounding forest.

That push was their last. Before long, their exhausted midfield stopped joining their attacks, and their defense stopped bothering to pass up the line, opting instead to smash any ball they could reach into orbit and out of bounds. The clock was ticking, and though we were winning the match, we were not achieving our goal. Our forwards turned frantic, and what little coordination existed in our attacks rapidly diminished into unsuccessful one-man heroics.

Such games typically deteriorate as fatigue and frustration take hold of the pummeled defenders, which explains why about 30 minutes into the half one of their players savagely lashed out at the forward who had scored in the first half. He was in the air at the time, and the force of the snap-kick brought him completely horizontal, floating in the air parallel to the ground. Everyone heard him land with a muffled WHOMPH, kicking up a cloud of dust just outside the 18 yard box.

A whistle blew, a card flew into the air, and at that same moment our player scrambled to his feet and hurled himself at his assailant. Three jabs and a solid hook later, both players were being dragged away by their teammates as shouting filled the air. A second card flew into the air, sending both Cause and Effect out of the match and off of the field.

Our team was awarded a free kick at the site of the initial foul, and moments later the ball rattled against the back of the net in retribution, setting the score to 2 – nil. There the score remained until the final whistle ended the match, and both teams marched off the field somewhat depressed.

We had our nominal victory, but at what cost? The red card benched our best scorer for our first playoff match, and 2-0 wasn’t good enough to push us out of the difficult bracket. With so much pressure to score early and often, everyone left that match feeling frustrated and angry – at teammates and at themselves. The opposing team, having taking a brutal pounding from a squad with half of an extra team on the sidelines, was in no better emotional shape.

“What a miserable game,” one of our players was saying as he changed out of his cleats. “I’m glad we won.”

“Yeah…,” I nodded slowly, standing up to head to the parking lot. “I’m not so sure we did.”

Ready to Ride: Motorcycle Training

Last summer, after spending months riding on the back of a friend’s motorcycle, I decided I needed one. Her dad found a cheap bike I could practice with, and after I bought it they helped me learn how to ride it. Unfortunately, my Shadow 1100 was much too large to handle as a starter bike and I was so nervous about making my instructors proud that I proved an exceptionally poor student.

I eventually sold the bike when I moved from North Carolina to the heavily-populated D.C. area, partially because I couldn’t think of a good way to get it up to my new home and partially because I was sure I would kill myself on it without more training.

Riding was fun, however, and I knew I could figure it out with more practice. A friend of mine in D.C. did some research and discovered a class that would, for a modest fee, train students how to ride using bikes provided by the course under the expert eye of seasoned instructors. Even better, passing the class would waive the state-required road test and pave the way to your motorcycle license. It seemed like a great deal, and we signed up right away.

Day One: Bookwork
The first day was the classroom portion of the course, which mostly consisted of 24 people watching educational videos about road safety and answering questions from a workbook. There was nothing presented here that I didn’t already know.

At the end of the day we were split into two sets of 12 people each in order to move on to the driving portion of the course, which was divided into “morning” and “evening” riding sessions. My friend and I were assigned to “morning”, and though we were both excited about it I would be lying if I said we weren’t anxious too.

Day Two: Training Wheels
When we arrived we found 12 motorcycles of various styles set on the course awaiting riders. There were two yellow Ninjas (sport bikes), a couple of Army-green dirt bikes, and a good assortment of black Nighthawks and Rebels (cruisers). I selected a Rebel partially because it was what my friend from N.C. had ridden and partially because it was the closest bike they had to my old Shadow. My friend selected a Ninja initially, though she moved on to a Rebel after the Ninja refused to shift gears.

The morning passed quickly, and by the time we left we had learned how to start, stop, use the clutch to control speed, shift up to and down from 3rd gear, turn, and counter-weight turn. We were told that this was “passing high school”, and that we needed to “be ready for college” the next day. It was a lot of fun.

Day Three: Playtime’s Over
The third day started out hard and fast by throwing us all into “The Box”, a drill that forces you to make a series of tight U-Turns (think Figure 8) without straying from a very small area. This is followed by a lot of work with sweeping curves, swerving, passing, and emergency stopping.

I did very well at all of these things except “The Box”, which proved exceptionally difficult to me (mostly because it requires you to stay in 1st gear and use heavy clutch-work to keep the bike moving fast enough to turn but slow enough to stay in the boundary). I suppose experts could do it in 2nd gear with fast counter-weight shifting, but that skill would take more time to develop.

After we completed the drills, we’re told to prepare for our final test. The test has 4 parts (“The Box”, Swerving, Emergency Stopping, Sweeping Curve), each of which has various point values. You earn points for making mistakes, and if you earn more than 20 points you fail. You also fail if you drop the bike during the test. We are assured that the most points you can surrender to “The Box” is 8 – so as long as you don’t drop the bike during that portion it can’t fail you. After the road test is a written test based on Day One material, but nobody is worried about that in the least.

Testing, Testing
I start off with a strong road test, surrendering the following points:

The Box: 4 points for crossing a boundary
Swerving: 0 points (perfect)
Emergency Stopping: 1 point for stopping 8 inches too far away from the target
Sweeping Curve: 1 point for finishing 0.02 seconds over the time limit, 15 points for missing a cone

Yeah, that’s 21 points.

The instructors pulled me aside and told me that I was one of the strongest students they’d seen and that without the cone-missing part I’d have a score of 6, which would have been the best in the class. Currently my score’s on appeal with their superiors because they think I deserve to have the 0.02 second point waived, though I agree when they say “that’s really not what failed me”.

Results?
My friend did pass with a score of 17, so that’s good news. Of course I’m disappointed I didn’t pass, but I did prove to myself that I’m a lot better at riding a motorcycle than I thought I was. I’m flattered that the instructors felt I was somehow wronged by screwing up the test, and from the videos I’ve seen of the Virginia DMV Road Test I’m sure I can ace it – it’s a lot more simple than what they had me do.

The most annoying part of the whole thing is the Sweeping Curve is something I had done perfectly 5 or 6 times prior to the test; it is so me to focus so much on “the hard part” (in the case, “The Box”) that I neglect to pay enough attention to “the easy part”. Of course, on a real road and with a real curve, you don’t get second chances. I can’t argue with that.

I might not have gotten a license waiver at the class, but I did learn all I need to know to eventually get one. And one day I’m going to do just that.

EDIT: Nov 08, 2010
I just heard that my appeal went through and I’ll be credited with course completion after all. This is extremely exciting and will make it much easier to go out and practice! Bottom line? If you’re even a little bit interested in learning how to ride, definitely look into instructional courses in your area. I couldn’t have asked for better teachers!

Are We Having Fun Yet?

I’ve played soccer for two decades now, and I’ve never seen as disgraceful a performance on the field as I did last week.

Yellow Cards Awarded Opposing Team
1) “What the F***, ref?!?!” – not getting a foul called on a fair tackle

2) “Hey! It goes back THERE!” – picking up a ball placed for a kick after an offsides call and throwing it about 15 yards backwards

3) “That’s only like 9 yards…want me to count it out for you, ref, since you clearly can’t?” – a player exaggeratedly counts out steps between his free kick and our closest man, loudly saying “ONE, TWO…”

4) “Hey ref, stop carding our players! You’re a disgrace to your badge! How’d you even earn it? Did you READ the book?” – their keeper runs up as the 3rd card is issued to discuss things civilly.

5) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

6) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

7) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

8) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

9) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

10) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

11) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

12) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

13) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub

Red Cards Awarded Opposing Team
1) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub (second Yellow)

2) Player left the field with 20 minutes to go in protest, no sub (second Yellow)

Yellow Cards Awarded Our Team
1) “Ref! Come on! That guy punched me in the face! In the face!” – after being decked in the face by the other team (unseen by the officials).

We won 3 – 0 and ended up scrimmaging ourselves for the last 20 minutes (beautiful day for soccer, and a free field, so why not?), but I hope we don’t have to experience that kind of match ever again.