The Madness of March
I love college basketball. March, being the pinnacle of the season, is the greatest month of the year. In addition to my birthday, mentioned earlier, and a great drinking holiday (St. Patrick's, not still talking about my birthday), we have the tournaments- conference and the big'n.
I grew up in Tucson, and in addition to golf and margaritas, there isn't much going on there. Don't get me wrong, it's a great town, but for major sporting events you usually have to drive an hour north to Phoenix. Enter the Wildcats. I have never been a part of something that holds together a community quite as tightly as U of A basketball. It is bigger than politics. It is bigger than religion. Hell, it is a religion. Lute Olson, known for turning water into wine, or at least good players into great ones, is bigger than the mayor (that guy wears short-sleeved shirts with a tie, sans jacket- looking more like he is trying to sell you a vacuum than govern your city). Lute, as you know, dresses like a living GQ cover, and would win any political seat in the county, probably state, with little, if any, opposistion.
I had a job in San Diego once, at a popular bookstore chain, that looked promising. Granted, the money was not good, but I was on the verge of doing some really cool stuff, and if nothing else, I actually enjoyed myself at work. It was March and I had asked to be off for the Arizona tournament game (Sweet 16 round). I was told yes. The time arrived and the GM decided I needed to stay- needed to stock some books. Agruements ensued. Five minutes later I'm cleaning out my stuff and walking across the street to a sportsbar to watch the 'Cats win. Never did go back to that bookstore. I have no regrets (well, about that anyway).
Point? Novel concept, I know. Anyway, the point is- spring is in the air, Guinness in my hand, and red and blue are running through my blood. Go 'Cats.