March Madness

Written by: Pudding

I’m from Kentucky, so every March my hometown goes mad. The streets roll up for a few hours whenever the Wildcats play. To wear any color other than blue on game day is tantamount to wearing a bridal gown to someone else’s wedding. It has been done, but only by the sorts of people one would not wish to associate with. Last semester, my world history professor explained the cult of the Roman Emperor in terms of its similarity to UK basketball fandom. I don’t go to the University of Kentucky.

All in all, this is not an uncommon story. While everyone who roots against Kentucky is undoubtedly a heretic who does not truly appreciate college basketball, we all understand the way it feels to watch our teams go to the big dance. It’s a rush to see your team go to any tournament and play with the best. The hope that they’ll bring home a national championship is just the icing on the cake.

I have a lot of friends who roll their eyes at the whole business. Moongewl says, "From my perspective, March Madness is an illness. Those afflicted often find themselves screaming at the television in a futile attempt to change the outcome of the games..."

Others point to very inaccurate statistics about how the NCAA Basketball Tournament costs employers in workplace productivity. They raise eyebrows over the insane amount of research I put into bracketology. They point out the fact that I am not now and never will be on the team, so they can claim that it’s a bit silly of me to say, “We won!” Yes, this is a lot of trouble to go to over a game. No, neither I nor most of the people I know are on the team. But it’s ridiculous to believe that this love of our team is pointless.

The impulse to identify with athletic achievement is a worldwide phenomenon that goes back thousands of years. The ancient Greeks had Olympians win glory for their city-states; my town has our Wildcats. Note that the word “athlete” shares a root with “Athens”. That has got to be the ultimate sports trophy for a city to win. Sure, I’m American, but I don’t find the fact that the Ivory Coast experienced surprising new unity over their World Cup qualification in 2006 all that surprising.

Commiserating over losses, euphoria over victory, and bickering over the next year’s recruitment class afterwards all serve a purpose. You can walk up to anyone in town and strike up a conversation about basketball, and they’ll have something to say. Unless, Rupp forbid, the grief from a loss leads everyone in town to be silent. On the other hand, we’re not all that coherent when we win a championship. Joy will do that to you.

This passion, this collective emotion-that’s what turns a collection of people who live in the same geographic area into a community. It doesn’t have to be sports; anything can bring about this sense of community and pride in one’s locale. It can be a festival, a political movement, or even a city book club. In this age of anonymity, it’s worth it to have something to talk about with the people next to you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find my blue face paint before I travel 366 miles to see my hometown team play in the first round of the tournament.

Go Big Blue!

Pudding will dye her hair blue for the rest of the month. If you PM her with comments on this article, she’ll be happy to talk...after the game.