BEST - For three weeks or so out of the year, I remember how much I love basketball. Two years ago, I was at a School of the Spirit residency when March Madness started. L faxed me the bracket, and the Sister who shared directing duties for the retreat center and I laughed as we talked teams and I made my picks. She was for North Carolina all the way, and kept feeding me updates all through the five day residency (yes, even during the time of the grand silence; I have always loved being a bit naughty with Nuns.) Last year, I was still focused on recovering from surgery, so there were no brackets.
This year, the family pool is complete. The 18 year old is home for Spring Break, there are five brackets filled out, and the master bracket hanging by cellotape on our mantle. I am dead last at this point, L and the 16 year old are tied for best picks. But we are still close, within five four points of each other, and we are all still in the game, so to speak.
Yesterday, a friend who is not into the tournament called while L and I were sitting at the bar, at our local sports bar, watching E. Tennessee State make a run at Pitt; “Now what it is you are doing?” she asked, and the crowd roared as an E Tennessee three-pointer fell in and closed the game to three points or so.
“We’re watching the beginning round of the NCAA tournament" Silence. "It's basketball."
“Oh that sounds like fun,” my friend with the letters PhD after her name said. “Is Lebron playing?”
“No” I said, “It’s college.”
The Syracuse alum next to L started giving him shit about Arizona State, his alum, and the upcoming match. He, of course, gave it right back. We stayed to watch the first bit of the first round end, and than left a bar that was packed and getting packeder.
First words out of the 15 year olds mouth this morning? "Mom, can you believe Wake Forest lost?”
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