March Madness

Ah, March Madness is here. And I have to care.

I don't really care. I didn't go to a college with a real basketball team, I've never followed the Warriors or Kings very closely and I can't hit a free throw unless I'm three feet from the basket.

But I'm a tall, African American guy so every stranger assumes I'm following the tournament.

It started years ago while I stood waiting for the bus or train in the S.F. Bay Area. I'm a friendly looking fellow, so friendly strangers came up to me and asked, "Some game between Middle Utah State and Bumphuq U. last night eh? I mean, -triple overtime-! Didja think that last three pointer would go through?"

I had, and still don't have, any idea of what this person's talking about. But I was a captive audience. My back was to the wall. I had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. So I agreed with him.

"Yep."

This was followed with a little more running commentary from the happy stranger, followed by a couple more "yep"s on my part. In the meantime, I'm scanning what he's saying for the name of a school, any school, I've heard of. If I didn't hear anything, I'd go for some safe diversion.

"I had a friend who went to UCLA."

"UCLA?!", the friendly guy would say. "Why they're (insert commentary about their recent fortunes here)."

If they're in the tournament, I'd say I respect their tradition. If not, then I'd say I miss having that tradition in the tournament.

By this time, if the train or bus is in sight, I smile and move to queue up. If not, then it's time to go for the save.

"The Final Four's cool in that it ends right up against the start of baseball. I thinking of going to the (Giants or A's) opening game. Whaddaya think?"

Whew. That usually ended it. Finally, things returned to normalcy. And usually just in time.

Fortunately, I don't ride transit nearly as much these days. But I still have to dodge this mess at water coolers, over conference calls and at the supermarket. Good thing this "madness" comes once a year. I don't think I could take much more.