Madness

My dear friend C went to UNC, and is a Tarheel extraordinaire. Under her tutelage, I have become interested in college basketball over the past four years, changing from someone who went to the bar and sat and talked through games to someone who doesn't want to miss interviews with Tyler Hansbrough.

I work in an office in a financial capacity that allows me to think my standoffishness is reasoned. So, last year, I was not even invited to participate in the office march madness pool. This year I sought it out, and by last week I was regarded as the probable winner. Several women expressed, in whispers, their desire to see a woman win the pool. It amused me that I did not see the pool in this gendered light, because I often do regard things, especially my own actions, that way.

On Friday I grew nervous, feeling as though somehow my performance was at issue. Of course, once you lock in your bracket, you can't do anything but watch the games. First, UCLA fell to Memphis. Next, the beloved Heels got beat up by Kansas and played a miserable game. My bracket was trashed. Worse still, I watched the games with C, who grew depressed and even angry about the Heels performance.

I got into the office Monday morning burdened by the knowledge that I would not win the pool. I would come in 3rd (out of 27) no matter what happened in the final game. But! After the upsets of the weekend, my boss shot up through the ranks and she was tied with a man, for the lead. Kansas won, and she won, and we collected our winnings this morning.

Before today, there was also talk of her tipping the guy who kept the spreadsheet, and possibly buying bagels for us all, but I counseled her that she won like a man, and she should take the money home like a man. Not sure if it worked, but I talked her down to Munchkins as a last resort.