Every March, something strange happens, and I’m not talking about the sudden warm weather. I am talking about how suddenly everyone becomes a college basketball expert. When I say everyone, I am mostly talking about myself, who, for the other eleven months of the year, could not tell you one single stat, ranking or even which teams may be good.
However, the second March Madness starts? I transform into what I can only describe as a full-time ESPN commentator.
The excitement starts the second the clock strikes March first. I will not watch a single basketball game until this date, but I will not miss a game after. My brackets will be set the moment they are released on March 15.
My roommates and I will immediately pause whatever we are doing and start planning on how we will watch the games, where they will be watched and who we allow to participate in our viewing. Suddenly, our apartment becomes the unofficial March Madness headquarters. The couch spots are claimed, snacks suddenly appear out of nowhere, buffalo chicken dip is a must and the TV stays locked on basketball for all hours of the day.
One year, we even took it a step further and made our own giant bracket out of tape on the living room wall. Just blue painter’s tape creating this massive tournament bracket that slowly started filling up with teams as the games went on. It may be chaotic, slightly crooked and honestly one of the best decorations that our apartment has ever had.
It was a sad day when we took it down.
The funniest part of it all: none of us genuinely know anything about basketball.
But that does not stop us from getting the full experience.
The moment that March Madness starts, I suddenly have a very strong opinion about every single game and team. I am sitting on that couch analyzing plays, predicting giant upsets and yelling at the TV like I know what I am talking about. Every year, I somehow become completely convinced that I know exactly which team is about to pull off a Cinderella run.
It’s delusional, yes. But it’s also the best part of my spring semester.
Because March Madness isn’t just about watching the games, it’s mostly about the brackets.
I find comfort in the stress that comes from trying to create the perfect bracket. Sitting and staring at multiple screens trying to figure out matchups feels like a life-or-death decision.
Do you pick the obvious team? Do you gamble on the underdog? Or do you pick the team with the more attractive players? What if that random 12-seed ends up upsetting everyone?
Suddenly, you’re overthinking everything.
And it only gets worse when you’re in multiple bracket pools. One with friends, one with roommates, maybe one with family. Now there’s actual pressure. The brackets must perform well, but you also know that statistically, the brackets never perform well.
Which is exactly why everyone’s brackets end up destroyed by the end of the first weekend, which adds to the beauty of March Madness.
Brackets aside, the games themselves are also pure chaos. I live for the insane buzzer-beaters and the underdogs suddenly making deep runs. The underdog stories are what make March Madness so addictive. One minute it’s a normal game, and the next, the entire arena and my apartment are exploding because someone just hit a shot at the buzzer.
Somewhere, even in the middle of the school day, when most would think it’s impossible to watch, I can assure you it is not.
Let’s be honest, during March Madness, there’s a very good chance students are watching games in class when we should probably be paying attention. Someone has the score pulled up on their laptop, another person is refreshing their bracket and suddenly half the room knows that a 13-seed just knocked out a top team.
For a few weeks, college basketball takes over everything.
And that’s the magic of March Madness. It turns ordinary apartments into watch parties, casual fans into passionate commentators and a simple bracket into the most stressful decision-making process of the month.
Even if your bracket is completely broken by day two.