March Sadness

For the first time in decades I'm facing a March without any madness whatsoever because my beloved Tarheels finished an unspeakably horrific season without their customary invitation to the big dance.

True, my second favorite team, BYU's Cougars, have a 7th seed and a first round game with Billy Donovan's Florida Gators, but, after losing in the Mountain West Tournament yet again to UNLV (and I don't care that they hold the tourney on UNLV's home court--the Cougars still should have prevailed because they're a much better team), BYU just doesn't seem poised to get past the first round for the first time in nine (yep, nine!) tries. But, then again, they might just surprise me and lots of other doubters; at least they earned the chance to try. Go Cougars!

What a difference a year makes. Last year I was contemplating the return from injury of Carolina's jet (no offense, Kenny Smith!) of a point guard, Ty Lawson, and a run toward the national championship with a truly outstanding basketball team. It turned out that the Heels had a relatively easy time dispatching the pretenders they faced on the way to the title game, which turned out to be a rout of Michigan State. It turned out to be the most dominant tournament the Heels ever played to win the national championship. And a perfect finish to the incomparable college career of Tyler Hansbrough.

This is supposed to be the point where I wax philosophical about the ebb and flow, the ups and downs, the wins and losses of life--and perhaps throw in a nice quotation from, say, Rudyard Kipling about "meet[ing] with Triumph and Disaster / And treat[ing] those two impostors just the same."

Instead I think I'll simply count the blessing of not having to spend the rest of the month in my usual gut-wrenched, overwrought state of madness. I'll be able to watch games without pacing the floor, driving my family crazy with my negative nervous energy, and startling the cows next door with my cheers every time the Heels make the great play. I'll also have time to consider whether watching the Heels should continue to be an ontological exercise for me, a matter of life and death. Maybe I'll emerge a calmer and brighter Tarheel fan in time for next year's tournament and truly believe, for the first time, that it really doesn't matter whether they win or lose.

Seriously doubt it.

Go Heels!