March madness means little to me …
… except when the University of New Mexico Lobos lose to Harvard.
Harvard?!
Losing in the first rounds is not unusual for the Lobos. Indeed, it’s like the sun coming up every day. They have a good season, they get into NCAA tournament, then one and done, sometimes two and done, but done quickly nevertheless.
This time was slightly different in that they had a really good season and they were given a good seed. There was hope. There was optimism that for once, they’d be part of the Elite Eight.
Except Harvard — Harvard! — put an end to that. In the first round.
Arizona, of course, quickly took care of Harvard. Arizona and New Mexico used to play each other a lot, but Arizona got too big for the WAC (both schools were in that conference at that time). I saw the 2013 bracket and thought it’d be great if UA and UNM played each other again. Never thinking the Lobos would lose to … Harvard.
I care slightly about this because UNM is my alma mater. I usually don’t follow the teams (football is abysmal) except when they make a little noise. And they did this year; an ESPN site even suggested a First Seed for UNM was possible (not in a million years). Third Seed, pretty high for those Lobos, though. Maybe this time, maybe, oh, please …
And then along came Harvard.
Harvard!
(Not that I have anything against Harvard, certainly not academically. Lots of smart people come out of there [too many lawyers, though]. And I suppose it’s a cliche to think of Ivy League teams as easy walk-overs. Harvard had a good team this year, they exploited it and got as far as the second round in the tournament.
By defeating the Lobos.
(Unless, of course, Harvard is jonesing so hard for some of that sports money that the college is doing what other “top” schools have done in de-emphasizing academics. Say it ain’t so, Harvard.)
Well, there’s always next year.
Ha! And you think things will be different?.
Finally! The Big Game is here! Sit down, be quiet, watch and don’t think
The Big Game is here!
Boo-ya!
Time to gaze in rapture at the tube – no, no wait! They’re not tubes any more, they’re flat sheets of glass hanging on the wall, oh! oh! ecstasy! They’re huge! They’re giants! Blessings from Consumer Heaven to all us good little patriots!
And all of them made in Chin–
F*&% that! It’s the Big Game!
Such good citizens we are, dutifully placing our broadening butts in the recliners made in China and sagging couches made in China and guzzle watery beer and over-sugared (and not even with real sugar!) sodas our Corporate Masters tell us to drink and chomp the chemically preserved-to-eternity potato and corn chips dipped in a concoction made from stuff never found in real cheese our Corporate Master tell us to eat, all while we pretend that anything that’s happening on those big screens Chinese laborers who have no idea what a “Super Bowl” is because they’re too busy trying to make a living on those paltry wages pertains to us.
Oh, I’m sorry, am I interfering with your viewing pleasure? Am I distracting you from the annual massacring of the national anthem by an overpaid and overexposed pop singer? Does me yammering about “labor” and “workers” dilutes your enjoyment of the latest super-spiffy ads our Corporate Masters have prepared for us? And you’re saying I’m missing the point of the “Super Bowl” being a unifying force in America? Yes, you’re probably right. There’s not another event in this country that requires so many American bottoms to be numbed for so long for one cause. Take one for the zipper–
What? Oh, sorry, being a pest again.
But you know, somewhere in China, away from the repetitive-movement mind-numbing assembly plants producing everything an American could want, there are smart people planning ways to get to and colonize the Moon. And in one of the last vestiges of the American intellectual frontier, the few smart people left in this country are finding dozens of planets in the Milky Way Galaxy, some possibly with conditions ripe for life–
Oh, uh, what? There I go again? Yes, yes, I’m sorry. Get into the spirit of the day, you say. Cut loose, enjoy life. Uh, I guess there’s something to that.
Well, OK, here goes … Go Indians!
Now what … wrong sport? Oh, I see. But … what difference does that make?
Terry England 