Nothing But Iron: Meet Cinderella’s Little Sister March 29, 2006 by Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W. [Author’s note: This is a long issue, but if you had something really important to do, would you really be here on the internet, wasting time reading about sports? As an enticement I have inserted a dozen of my favorite time-saving tips from the best-selling book 1001 Time Savers That Will Shorten Your Workday and Give You More Time to Goof Off. So, if you want to goof off and self-improve yourself, read on.] It is not so much my fault as it is the fault of the losing teams that my bracket is such a mess. What is novel about the 2006 Pride Pool season is that my misery has lots of company. In fact, as we enter Final Four weekend, all but two of Pride’s record 35 entrants are finished. Done. Kaput. Just like the ACC, Big East and Big Ten. The pool, though mostly devoid of the pride assigned as its namesake, is not completely without drama. Past champion Gene Kenny, currently in a tie for 9th place with my Italianoid third-brother, Ambrucino Lagmanini, can catapult into fourth with a UCLA win over LSU the semi-final battle for acronymnal superiority. I only add that last part because I like making up words. Acronymnological ran a close second. Other than that, the pool is as dynamic as four o’clock traffic on the Illinois Tollway. [Tip No. 1: Use your computer’s Delete key to delete e-mails that you don’t want to read.] Keep in mind that the difference between first and last is a matter of a couple picks. For example, if I had just gone with my gut and picked George Mason to advance to Indy, I would be in first place by two points. [Tip No. 2: Limit stacks of useless papers to six inches high and 25% of useable desk area.] You might erroneously presume that, as a member of the bottom ten (25th place), I would be languishing in a pool of my own shame, however, the miracle of the birth of my second son has rendered that assumption far from true. No, my son is not a newborn, nor are these the nostalgic musings of a father seeking perspective in the midst of losing his own basketball pool. My second son, Connor, who is now 13, has locked up the Pride Pool championship despite the fact that there are three games remaining. He advanced on the strength of Florida and UCLA, besting the likes of second-place Kurt Rongstad, Brent Feller (15th), Uncle Ambrucino, Mamma Kelly (28th) and George Geise (7th), sports editor for the Great Falls Tribune, a real live newspaper. I reminisce about the time I spent with Connor as a toddler, teaching him how to dribble, shoot, move his feet on defense and taunt opponents, like I taunted Bruce when his champion, Memphis, was eliminated early. (He started it when my champion, Duke, lost.) It was I who spent precious seconds of my busy schedule encouraging Connor to trust his instincts. Use the force, Luke. Err, sorry, that was a different son. Dad, is Florida good? Sure son. You never know what might happen. Though he hasn’t fully learned it yet, I have also been teaching him how to lose gracefully. It’s a lesson he won’t have to apply here. [Tip No. 3: Never eat without reading an important document.  In fact, you should be eating now.] Hey, who are we kidding anyway? We have children so that we can re-live life’s triumphs vicariously. It’s about time all those dirty diapers I changed is paying some dividends. You cannot see this because in writing the image is in the mind of the beholder, but I just smacked my fist on my chest and pointed my index finger skyward. Now can you see it? [Tip No. 4: Putting plastic wrap around important documents will save you from having to reprint them after spilling condiments on them while you are eating and reading at the same time.] Connor’s rise to stardom did not occur without some controversy, especially that generated by his jealous elderly uncle who wrote: I would appreciate it if you remove Connor Lagman's entry from the Pride Pool. I just got off the phone with the NCAA and have confirmed that his participation is, in fact, a violation of NCAA rules and regulations. "Amateur athletes, regardless of age, may not participate in events, games or hobbies where the speculation of outcomes in sporting activities is the primary objective and where such speculation may be rewarded in the form of monies, athletic shoe discounts, pride and/or Rutabagas." Imagine in 2013, when Badgers are playing Iowa for Big 14 Title and your son, Heisman Candidate, and starting halfback gets yanked from the game at halftime due to NCAA rules infractions when he was 13. IT'S NOT WORTH IT! There is a very nice website called www.nik.com (nikleodeon) just for kids. He can dress up Elmo, play with virtual earth movers and assign cool names to each of his toes. It is loads of fun and NCAA eligibility-approved. I'm pretty certain the basketball court inside your house is also an infraction. I have a whistle and I'm not afraid to blow it. The 2006 George Mason Award, a new prize given to the contestant most unlikely to succeed, but did anyway, goes to newcomer Kristin Mueller. Kristin, a former soccer player and soon-to-be med student, who used to babysit Patrick and Connor, finished third on the strength of picks like Bradley in the Sweet 16. She also had one elite eight team correct from each region. It’s a good thing her standing didn’t come down to the tie-breaker; her predicted total score for the championship game was 227. The again, she could argue that as a judge of any portion of anyone else’s bracket, I have the credentials of Madagascar’s snow boarding champion. Without permission I will divulge Kristin’s triple-secret formula, as long as you promise not to tell anyone: "I don't follow basketball even remotely," she writes, "my strategy was to pick teams based on places I liked best to visit or teams that had interesting sounding names." No doubt it beats the hell out of RPI’s, points per possession and tournament experience as prognostic indicators. [Tip No. 5: Instead of one to-do list, create multiple lists. The sum total of incomplete tasks is unchanged, but it makes you feel better, and that’s good, right?] Surely it is a measure of intelligence to have the ability to walk in on someone else’s chess match, armed only with a knowledge of checkers, and beat a bunch of people silly with your pawns tied behind your back. Kristin’s success helps explain why Sports Illustrated (aptly pseudonymed So-called Expert 1 in the standings) finished in 29th place beating only Connor’s grandma, three hockey fans and Mark Hamilton, a KU alumnus who picked the Jayhawks to win the national title. If sports experts were firearms, the SI staff should have rated about a Death Star. By the second weekend of play it was nothing more than a leaky squirt gun. I am cancelling my subscription on the basis of low credibility. Then, in preparation for next year’s Pride Pool, I am going to visit all 212 Division I teams with interesting sounding names. I will make note of those I liked visiting best. More importantly I will devise a plan to steal Connor’s secret Pride Pool passwords so I can see who is going to win before the games start. Finally, I will forego all other bracketology tips in favor of this one: Always make entries in pencil. [Tip No. 6: Don’t waste time reading self help books.] No March issue would be complete without a discussion of the actual basketball, though we all know that after office pools the games themselves are a secondary consideration. On that theme, let’s not forget how lucky we are to have a tournament. In another time or place, like the outskirts of Neptune, for example, basketball’s postseason might have been decided by the Cup Championship Series. Bradley and George Mason would have played in the Palm Pilot Cup on March 12th. The Colonials after winning in OT, would have been thrilled to receive a massive bronze trophy shaped like a PDA. From there they would have advanced to reclining chairs in their living rooms to watch UCLA and LSU in the Febreeze Cup by Procter and Gamble (Tuesday, March 14, 11:00 a.m.) forever oblivious that they and the teams they are watching comprise three of the four best teams in the country. In the span of a few weeks two-dozen more games would be played, each of which would be season ending for both winner and loser. The first weekend in April would be Cup Championship weekend with the Orange, Sugar and Rose Cups. Duke and UConn would have had Monday’s marquee match-up in the Taco Bell Packets of Mild Taco Sauce Fiesta Cup to decide who would be called the best team in the nation. Many would argue that Memphis or Villanova should have been in the Fiesta Cup instead of the Huskies, but all would understand that this could never be proven. A rogue LSU fan would claim that his team is deserving of a shot at the national title. Most of the sports community would ignore this zealot. Others would ridicule him in front of his back. Former friends and relatives would avoid making eye contact. Homeland Security would spy on him. The winner of the Fiesta Cup would get a beautiful crystal basketball and a bunch of National Champion baseball caps. [Tip No. 7: Order fast food instead of making your own meals. Fast food is faster so it saves time.] I suppose I could get excited about a cup system, especially if my team was elected to play in the championship, but we are probably stuck with the playoff system. University presidents would not support the CCS because it would be harder for student-athletes to concentrate on their studies, for example Theory of Logic 207. Besides, the tourney is such a money maker for schools and sponsors, it is unlikely there would ever be momentum to change it. [Tip No. 8: Put pens in a special drawer so you can find a pen when you need one.] Despite the messy logistics of having teams actually play each other, the word that comes to mind about this past weekend of basketball is wow. I didn’t even bother capitalizing, bolding or exclamating it, because those of you who watched know what I mean, and those who didn’t, well, you should engage in self harm for that lapse. In two games–LSU vs Texas and George Mason vs UConn, I saw some of the best basketball I have ever seen. By best I don’t mean the next MJ dunking from the free throw line blah blah blah, I mean most fun to watch. Both LSU and GMU showed uncommon perseverance in their overtime periods, where, according to common knowledge, they should have relented. UConn, especially as the beneficiary of shamefully biased officiating in consecutive tournament games, was like a village of cockroaches that could not be killed. Credit the Colonials for the strength of character to claw their way up an inclined playing field. [Tip No. 9: Save time by not watering your lawn. The grass will die and you won’t have to mow it.] I figured after the Badgers and the rest of the Big 10 were eliminated in the amount of time it takes to run a bracket through a paper shredder (not that I know anyone who did that), I might not care so much about the tournament. For about a week that was true, but a swig of Sweet Sixteen Syrup followed by spoonful of Elite Eight Elixir and my apathy was cured. Now I care. In fact, I care so much that I ordered a GMU Final Four tee shirt. If I get it in time, I will wear it for this weekend’s games, after sewing a motion W on the sleeve, of course. In the other semifinal I will cheer for LSU. Based on the overrated LSU team the blue-collar Badgers bested in the 2000 tourney, I bumped the Tigers early in my bracket, wholly unaware that the 2006 model was upgraded with hustle, poise and stifling defense. Maybe they borrowed that concept from Dick Bennett. Do you wonder why there’s an 11th seed in the final four? I don’t. Here’s why: 1) There are so many good players these days–more kids starting younger, with good coaching and lots of games–that Duke, North Carolina and Kansas can’t absorb them all. 2) Really good players don’t hang around college very long; they bolt to the NBA as soon as their projected salaries get seventh or eighth digits. For some, like LSU’s Tyrus Thomas, college might last just one season. 3) Opponents may underestimate the skill and motivation of higher seeded teams. 4) Higher seeded teams may play more relaxed. There has to be more pressure with the must-not-lose expectations of the favorite. 5) Tighter restrictions and precedent for harsh penalties has made it much harder for teams like Michigan of Fab Five-SUV infamy and Wisconsin of Discount Shoe infamy to cheat. I am not suggesting that any of UW’s Final Four team got cheap shoes, but how else could you explain that late season run? [Tip No. 10: Use a digital video recorder to record your favorite shows. During the replay watch only the commercials, which is what the sponsors want anyway.] Recommended reading: Sports Illustrated article about bloggers. I can’t recall which issue, but it was in the last two weeks. (Click here to read an SI interview on the topic .) The article talked about the rapidity with which news–rumor, conjecture, fact or one masquerading as the other–travels across the blog network. My first comment is that NBI is not a blog. It’s a splog. The SI piece was timely, given that I recently disseminated information that a source close to the Iowa program told me the Alford-to-Indiana move was a "done deal." My reporting was correct. The source did say this, even though the source was wrong. Step-dad Ken, an Iowa fan, linked me to an article reporting that Alford was staying put, along with the snide remark, "What’s this about a ‘done deal’?" Ken’s note was timely because I had just received an e-mail attachment entitled Alford’s New Job. Some Photoshop enthusiast had morphed Alford’s face onto the body of a Walmart greeter. I forwarded the image to Ken. According to Kelly, a professional sports journalist reported that Alford was not offered an interview at Indiana, which could explain why he did not take the job. [Tip No. 12: When offering a dozen time saving tips, always skip No. 11. Few people will notice and you will save 8% of the time it would have otherwise taken.] I’ll close with a note I got from brother Bruce, sent the day before Memphis lost in undertime to UCLA. I called him at the end of that game to offer my condolences and to tell him that 45 points was better than nothing, even for a top seed. I have found the best way to manage impudent siblings is to give them enough string to tie their shoe laces together. Your bracket is not good. No explanation is necessary after you utter these words. Confirmation topped with a hint of disappointment is a dessert I will consume even when I am full. Good luck with Patrick and having a tall son. You think it is easy having a son taller than you? You are in for a shock. You will need to punch him in the stomach every week to remind him who is boss. He will counter by placing half-full soda cans atop your head telling you he mistook your bald spot for wood. Memphis is good. Memphis is great. Thank you for not being in Big Ten. You can change the rules to suit you bro. You can throw me out. You can penalize me for being brown. I won't go away. You know I have Memphis and Memphis win is a pool win for B-Man (Third person, nickname reference) and it will hurt you. There is no trophy for 23rd Place. ____________ Nothing But Iron is an amateur electronic sports column, but it is not really a blog because NBI was developed long before the word blog was invented. Information contained herein is written for purposes of entertainment and to offend certain readers who are susceptible to being offended. Nothing in NBI should be construed as factual, except the author’s opinions, which are in fact factual. The author apologizes to the Coach Alford for him having moved all his family’s belongings to Indianapolis because of that recent NBI issue. The author’s source, on condition of continued anonymity, has agreed to move out of Alford’s vacated home and to pay all reverse moving expenses that the coach’s family has incurred. ©2006 DrTM Enterprises. All rights reserved.