1) The Stress Bracket
It's 11:58am. Like all respectable pools in this country, there is a hard noon deadline. Maybe you got caught up in work. Maybe you forgot that March Madness takes place in the month after February. Maybe you were too busy playing team sports and hanging out with girls. But somehow you forgot to fill out your bracket.
It's a two minute mad cap dash to the Final Four. Putting together a bracket last minute as though it's a 3000-word college term paper the night before, word-counting every other hour (my name counts as two, right?), messing with Microsoft Word's margins, and even considering adding in a few charts and graphics despite the fact that the topic is "Discuss the role of the individual in Moby-Dick."
Either way, this person fills out a bracket in less than 90 seconds (the aid of a flipped coin determining any close match ups) and then haphazardly hands it in, not even noticing that the seeds in his final four add up to 19. Normally he'd know that Murray State has no chance in hell. Normally he'd bite the bullet and go with Kentucky even though it's a popular pick. Normally he would take time to double-check and realize that he chose North Carolina State and not UNC to go all the way.
But that's what happens when you procrastinate. Nice work on getting it all out of your system during college.
Annoyance factor when this person wins: Five Jimmers out of Five.
God doesn't play dice, neither does Coach K. Stumbling into success after tripping over a pile of mediocrity is nothing to brag about.
2) The guy who knows nothing about college basketball but just wants to be "one of the guys" so he fills out a bracket for the sake of forced camaraderie.
"What's all this hub bub about? Ohhhh! Sports betting! Yeah, sure thing I'll fill one out! Now, how many teams do I pick? Wait, I select a winner on all these games? And what do these numbers next to the team name mean? How's Duke doing this year? They're typically good at basketball, right?"
In the past, the office sports clique would argue about whether or not Vanderbilt is a legitimate threat or simply got such a high seed because of a favorable conference tournament. Meanwhile the pariah stands on the outskirts. Thanks to that bracket entry, however, he is now a part of the conversation. He stands in the circle, nodding even though this is a foreign language consisting of jargon like "offensive glass," "points in the paint," and "Jared Sullinger."
You're never going to be a part of the band. In the other eleven, not-so-Mad months, you're an outsider. Yet for the month of March, you're now the fifth man in the road trip who's kicking in gas money. You're the DJ Qualls of college basketball.
Annoyance factor when this person wins: Four out of five Ostertags.
They have no business even being in the pool, let alone winning it. "Congrats. Here's your winnings. What's that? You want to do this again next year? Ummm....next year's tourney is canceled. Steroid allegations. Sorry."
3) The chick in the office who picks teams based on their mascot
What does she know about the game? More than others, but she's not exactly Michelle Beadle if you know what I'm saying (this reference is also lost on her). She watches the games every year, appreciates the sport and might even own a jersey from her alma mater.
Her bracket, however, isn't filled out based on conference standings or head coaches. She finds other methods of picking winners. "Wisconsin has the badger. Montana has a grizzly bear. No brainer! I'm taking the bear in a 13 over 4 upset."
(Personal aside: 8 times out of 10, the girl wins the pool. Don't ask me why, but it always seems to happen. Maybe women know more about the NCAA than they let on. Maybe this act of "not picking Florida State because my ex-boyfriend went there" is just a clever ruse. Be afraid of these ladies. They might not know John Calipari's annual salary, but they have ways of taking home the winner's share).
Annoyance factor when this person wins: Two Redicks out of Five.
It's hard to stay mad at the hot chick. Oh, I didn't mention that she's hot? Those are the only sorts of women who pay attention to college basketball. Now that the magical world of college is over, March Madness is the closet they're ever going to get to hanging out in a frat house.
4) The Homer
Yes, we get it. You went to Georgetown. Hoyas for life. Yes, yes, Patrick Ewing will always be a better center than Olajuwon. And every single year, you pick them to go all the way. And when they don't make the tourney, you suggest that we do an NIT pool instead. Even when your team is an 11 seed and merely making it to the second round would be considered a victory for the program, you have them in the championship game.
Annoyance factor when they win: Three Madsens out of five.
In the scant chance that their school does put up a banner, you'll have to put up with a double dose of high fives and "toldja so"s.
5) The Casual Fan
This guy watches ESPN (and not purely for the insightful Erin Andrews sideline reporting). He can name three of Michigan's Fab Five (Webber, Rose, and Howard. The other guys? No clue). Always has a random 13 seed that goes to the sweet 16 (this year it's New Mexico State). Is currently in mourning since Gus Johnson isn't calling any games this year. Overall, a solid audience member at any sports bar.
College Basketball season, however, starts with the conference tournaments. Apart from Duke/UNC or anything in primetime, he probably hasn't watched a regular season game this year.
Annoyance: One out of five Hansboroughs.
Can't hate on a bro who stands by a 10-7 upset, bro.
6) The Beautiful Mind statistics genius/degenerate gambler
As opposed to #5, this man has seen every game. Has compiled stats on every team. Knows the Kentucky roster's course load, because Sociology majors historically score three to four points higher in the Sweet Sixteen than General Studies majors. Knows the name of every Dan Patrick sidekick (and not just McLovin. That one's easy). Has it down to a science. He knows for a fact that Gonzaga is making it to the Elite Eight and he'll tell you why. One, it's a matter of free throw percentage in the second half. There are maybe three toss ups in the tournament, which is why he's entering five brackets to account for each permutation.
In other words, the single most obnoxious person at your office company picnic. If you even utter the phrase "March Madness" around them, they will corner you and unload all of the aforementioned stats. One of the considerations as to whether to even enter this pool is having to put up with this Bill James/Digger Phelps hybrid.
Annoyance factor when they win: Six Laettners out of Five.
A victory results in a month-long digression on the merits of their method. "Most people didn't watch St. Bonaventure during the pre-season. Totally paid off."
Annoyance factor when they lose: Seven Laettners out of five.
A busted bracket results in a two-month diatribe on the sheer insanity of why their strategy didn't pan out. "Are you kidding me! There was no possible way that Syracuse gets bounced in the second round. That K-State team didn't have the field goal percentage to contend. This is bullshit. I want my entry fee back. Honestly. If that one shot didn't fall, then Virginia makes it to the Sweet Sixteen and easily knocks Mizzou out. JESUS, WHY DIDN'T THAT HAPPEN?!?" (see: sheer, homicidal rage towards a successful bracket from #2 or #3 on this list).
Absolute joy when they lose: One glorious Grant Hill.
7) The guy who runs the pool
A self-described "type a personality," meaning that they're a B+ at best. In his spare time, the commissioner of five different fantasy leagues ("It's a tough job and the other guys in the league are always complaining, but I call it down the line. Yes, I veto trades, but I don't like doing it").
Annoyance factor: Three Adam Morrisons out of five.
Even though you have to put up with their humble brags, odds are that this guy'll organize the pool again next year. And who really wants to deal with that kind of responsibility?
******
It's 11:58am. Like all respectable pools in this country, there is a hard noon deadline. Maybe you got caught up in work. Maybe you forgot that March Madness takes place in the month after February. Maybe you were too busy playing team sports and hanging out with girls. But somehow you forgot to fill out your bracket.
It's a two minute mad cap dash to the Final Four. Putting together a bracket last minute as though it's a 3000-word college term paper the night before, word-counting every other hour (my name counts as two, right?), messing with Microsoft Word's margins, and even considering adding in a few charts and graphics despite the fact that the topic is "Discuss the role of the individual in Moby-Dick."
Either way, this person fills out a bracket in less than 90 seconds (the aid of a flipped coin determining any close match ups) and then haphazardly hands it in, not even noticing that the seeds in his final four add up to 19. Normally he'd know that Murray State has no chance in hell. Normally he'd bite the bullet and go with Kentucky even though it's a popular pick. Normally he would take time to double-check and realize that he chose North Carolina State and not UNC to go all the way.
But that's what happens when you procrastinate. Nice work on getting it all out of your system during college.
Annoyance factor when this person wins: Five Jimmers out of Five.
God doesn't play dice, neither does Coach K. Stumbling into success after tripping over a pile of mediocrity is nothing to brag about.
2) The guy who knows nothing about college basketball but just wants to be "one of the guys" so he fills out a bracket for the sake of forced camaraderie.
"What's all this hub bub about? Ohhhh! Sports betting! Yeah, sure thing I'll fill one out! Now, how many teams do I pick? Wait, I select a winner on all these games? And what do these numbers next to the team name mean? How's Duke doing this year? They're typically good at basketball, right?"
In the past, the office sports clique would argue about whether or not Vanderbilt is a legitimate threat or simply got such a high seed because of a favorable conference tournament. Meanwhile the pariah stands on the outskirts. Thanks to that bracket entry, however, he is now a part of the conversation. He stands in the circle, nodding even though this is a foreign language consisting of jargon like "offensive glass," "points in the paint," and "Jared Sullinger."
You're never going to be a part of the band. In the other eleven, not-so-Mad months, you're an outsider. Yet for the month of March, you're now the fifth man in the road trip who's kicking in gas money. You're the DJ Qualls of college basketball.
Annoyance factor when this person wins: Four out of five Ostertags.
They have no business even being in the pool, let alone winning it. "Congrats. Here's your winnings. What's that? You want to do this again next year? Ummm....next year's tourney is canceled. Steroid allegations. Sorry."
3) The chick in the office who picks teams based on their mascot
What does she know about the game? More than others, but she's not exactly Michelle Beadle if you know what I'm saying (this reference is also lost on her). She watches the games every year, appreciates the sport and might even own a jersey from her alma mater.
Her bracket, however, isn't filled out based on conference standings or head coaches. She finds other methods of picking winners. "Wisconsin has the badger. Montana has a grizzly bear. No brainer! I'm taking the bear in a 13 over 4 upset."
(Personal aside: 8 times out of 10, the girl wins the pool. Don't ask me why, but it always seems to happen. Maybe women know more about the NCAA than they let on. Maybe this act of "not picking Florida State because my ex-boyfriend went there" is just a clever ruse. Be afraid of these ladies. They might not know John Calipari's annual salary, but they have ways of taking home the winner's share).
Annoyance factor when this person wins: Two Redicks out of Five.
It's hard to stay mad at the hot chick. Oh, I didn't mention that she's hot? Those are the only sorts of women who pay attention to college basketball. Now that the magical world of college is over, March Madness is the closet they're ever going to get to hanging out in a frat house.
4) The Homer
Yes, we get it. You went to Georgetown. Hoyas for life. Yes, yes, Patrick Ewing will always be a better center than Olajuwon. And every single year, you pick them to go all the way. And when they don't make the tourney, you suggest that we do an NIT pool instead. Even when your team is an 11 seed and merely making it to the second round would be considered a victory for the program, you have them in the championship game.
Annoyance factor when they win: Three Madsens out of five.
In the scant chance that their school does put up a banner, you'll have to put up with a double dose of high fives and "toldja so"s.
5) The Casual Fan
College Basketball season, however, starts with the conference tournaments. Apart from Duke/UNC or anything in primetime, he probably hasn't watched a regular season game this year.
Annoyance: One out of five Hansboroughs.
Can't hate on a bro who stands by a 10-7 upset, bro.
6) The Beautiful Mind statistics genius/degenerate gambler
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As opposed to #5, this man has seen every game. Has compiled stats on every team. Knows the Kentucky roster's course load, because Sociology majors historically score three to four points higher in the Sweet Sixteen than General Studies majors. Knows the name of every Dan Patrick sidekick (and not just McLovin. That one's easy). Has it down to a science. He knows for a fact that Gonzaga is making it to the Elite Eight and he'll tell you why. One, it's a matter of free throw percentage in the second half. There are maybe three toss ups in the tournament, which is why he's entering five brackets to account for each permutation.
In other words, the single most obnoxious person at your office company picnic. If you even utter the phrase "March Madness" around them, they will corner you and unload all of the aforementioned stats. One of the considerations as to whether to even enter this pool is having to put up with this Bill James/Digger Phelps hybrid.
Annoyance factor when they win: Six Laettners out of Five.
A victory results in a month-long digression on the merits of their method. "Most people didn't watch St. Bonaventure during the pre-season. Totally paid off."
Annoyance factor when they lose: Seven Laettners out of five.
A busted bracket results in a two-month diatribe on the sheer insanity of why their strategy didn't pan out. "Are you kidding me! There was no possible way that Syracuse gets bounced in the second round. That K-State team didn't have the field goal percentage to contend. This is bullshit. I want my entry fee back. Honestly. If that one shot didn't fall, then Virginia makes it to the Sweet Sixteen and easily knocks Mizzou out. JESUS, WHY DIDN'T THAT HAPPEN?!?" (see: sheer, homicidal rage towards a successful bracket from #2 or #3 on this list).
Absolute joy when they lose: One glorious Grant Hill.
7) The guy who runs the pool
A self-described "type a personality," meaning that they're a B+ at best. In his spare time, the commissioner of five different fantasy leagues ("It's a tough job and the other guys in the league are always complaining, but I call it down the line. Yes, I veto trades, but I don't like doing it").
Annoyance factor: Three Adam Morrisons out of five.
Even though you have to put up with their humble brags, odds are that this guy'll organize the pool again next year. And who really wants to deal with that kind of responsibility?
******
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