Of Family and Madness

The madness of March is upon us.  I am not referring to the weather that is typically unpredictable as winter and spring battle it out for supremacy . . . which is usually won by spring in the end.  No, this madness comes in the shape of a basketball.  It is the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s (NCAA) annual tournament for determining a national champion for men and women’s teams.  It is in its 87^th year for the men, and even though women started playing the game two years after the men started, their tournament is only in its 44^th year.  Whatever the case, the “madness” is upon us. 

The primary focus of March Madness is in choosing a “bracket”.  A bracket is a road map of the tournament from the first game to the championship game.  In filling out the bracket an individual must pick the winner of each game in each round as the tournament progresses.  The individual chooses the bracket prior to the start of the tournament.  There are five rounds leading up to the championship.  The goal is not only to pick the champion but to also correctly pick the most winners as the games are played.  The festivities begin with 64 teams until they are whittled down to the final between two teams leading to the champion.  There are 63 games in all in which anything and everything can happen.

 

In all honesty my participation has come and gone throughout the years.  Some years I have participated with groups from work, but most years I have not.  Typically, like most human beings, I like to be in control.  In March Madness there is no control . . . lots of chaos. Surprises around every corner.  Because of this I did not participate in most years.  I can be a poor loser.  If teams are not going to do what I need them to do to win . . . well, forget it!  That was then and this is now.  I’m all in . . . win or lose.  The “madness” is there.

 

Why the change of heart?

 

It began when the oldest child once again invited anyone and everyone, he knew to join the bracket he had set up last year.  Anyone and everyone included family. That’s when the idea popped into my mind—a family bracket!  I encouraged all the family to pick a bracket to see who had the most basketball savvy and knowledge to pick the winner . . . also to have bragging rights for a year.  The one who is left standing at the end would win the grand prize trophy.  The one who brought up the rear in last place would get the “nice try” trophy.  In the first year nine out of 14 participated.  It was a blast as our youngest son stormed from the back of the pack to win it all.  Our son-in-law circled around before flushing his way to last place.

 

This year, from the youngest to oldest family members, 12 out of the 14 family members are participating.  Halfway through the bracket madness it has been a roller coaster ride seeing the lead bounce back and forth between a small group.  It has been a blast . . . but remember, this is March Madness and it is still anyone’s game to win.

 

Right now, I am sitting in the middle of the pack.  A rookie—our grandson—is sitting at the top.  Sports are not his “thing” at this point in his life, yet he is leading.  It’s crazy.  It comes with the luck of the draw and picks.  Picking is the key . . . with a whole bunch of luck.  I’m not sure how he picked his bracket.  I know some people pick their bracket by the schools’ mascots.  Others pick them by the school colors.  Some follow the season, analyze the statistics, and pick their bracket that way.  There are those who go by hunches and hearsay.  Darts are thrown by some to pick their brackets.  The hope for divine intervention is often used.  Some spend hours mulling their choices, others merely.  Now with technology like artificial intelligence (AI) some just ask their computer to fill out the bracket.  It’s crazy!  That is a part of the madness of March.

 

I spend between 15 and 30 minutes picking my bracket.  I don’t analyze.  I don’t study stats.  I don’t have darts to throw.  Mascots aren’t important to me.  Team colors—nah!  I just go on a hunch.  I gave up on God’s intervention years ago.  I think it had something to do with me picking against Norte Dame one year.  Obviously, whatever I am doing is not working.  I didn’t win last year, and I am probably closer to the bottom of the bracket than the top this year.  I will probably finish in the middle of the pack again when the dust settles.  I will be well off the podium this year.  I am tempted to use AI to pick a bracket, but that seems like cheating despite how quick and easy it would be. Still, I wonder how my elementary school grandson with no basketball knowledge can be in first place.  The squirt is showing me (and everyone else at this point) up! 

 

The greatest fun though is in the “smack talk” and competition.  Who would have thought that the children were going to be the biggest smack talkers?  They throw the dirt like experts . . . stand toe-to-toe with the adults.  It has been impressive watching how well they spar with their parents, aunties, and uncles.  So far Nana and Papa have avoided being the target of smack.  I guess we need to pick better brackets.  The smack and teasing have been impressive . . . funny and entertaining.  It has been an eye-opener for all as all the generations are learning the slang, terms, and put downs from each other.  They are becoming multi-generational smack talkers.  It is all fair game when it comes to March Madness.

 

The family is in the thick of March Madness.  The competition is tough and constantly changing.  The push for family supremacy and bragging rights for the year is up for grabs.  Smack is being talked.  Laughter abounds.  Together we are all in it.  That is what makes it special. We are a family and we play together.  And in the end, no matter who wins or loses, we are still family enjoying one another.  My hope is that we are building a family tradition that is passed down through the generations (as will be the passing of the trophies) years after I am gone.  Yes, this is March Madness . . . when family comes together for a little fun.  In the meantime, I have got to figure out a better method for picking a bracket and learning how to talk smack if I really want to win this thing.  Or I can do what I have been doing and bask in the fellowship and love that is family.  Either way I am a winner.

 

 

It’s the Race that Counts

Okay . . . I’m old enough to accept that I’m not going to come out on top.  I’m not going to win the race.  It’s just not in the cards.  The best I’m going to do is to get a “participant” trophy.  I can handle that at my age.  It is just not going to happen.  The odds were just too great.  Something like a zillion to one.  In the end I think that is what everyone should get—a “participant” trophy.  After all . . . we finished the race and that was the goal all along.

In the end, isn’t that what we all deserve?  Recognition for a race well ran?  That we finished.

 

My grandchildren have reached the age when they are now competing in competitive sports.  They are no longer playing sports for the sake of playing, enjoyment, and exercise.  Nope.  They have entered the realm of “winners and losers”, bragging rights, and all the marbles.  There is more seriousness to the sports they engage in.  A sharper edge.  It is the weeding out of “winners and losers” . . . a pecking order . . . a caste system of sorts.  It has taken the fun out of sports.

 

As my children grew up, I had various roles in their sporting adventures.  In their younger years I encouraged them to try out sports.  I was a cheerleader for their sporting endeavors.  I also coached them.  I coached soccer, basketball, track, and cross country.  When I first started coaching it was about teaching the skills and enjoyment of playing the sport.  The competition wasn’t important.  It was for the pure joy of the sport.  But somewhere along the way I slid into the “dark side” . . . the competitive side.  It was all downhill after that.  I lost track of the exhilaration of sports for the sake of sports.  Lost track of my kids as individuals only to see them as cogs in the competition machine.

 

Sports lost their joy.  For that . . . I apologize to my children and all the kids who endured my slide into the “dark side”.  If I killed the joy of sports for anyone . . . I apologize.  Competition is a sneaky, slippery slope to navigate.

 

I know.

 

Recently at my granddaughter’s lacrosse game, I caught myself with a toe in the “dark side” . . . I was shining about the officiating or lack thereof.  In a close game against an aggressive team the granddaughter’s team was losing.  Now it couldn’t be that the more aggressive team was more experienced and skilled than the granddaughter’s team—they obviously had played the sport longer.  No, the competitive spark in me turned towards the most obvious problem for any spectator—the referees.  Thankfully the whining was contained within the confines of my granddaughter’s mother—my daughter.  It probably triggered all sorts of PTSD flashbacks from the days when I coached her or sat in the stands at her games.  Poor kid.  Besides, it was ridiculous on my part, the referees were doing their best as middle school kids made to volunteer to officiate.  Kids!  Shame on me!  Thankfully I recognized the awakening of the monster within me.  Unfortunately, the daughter caught the brunt of my whining.

 

I apologized.  Then I spent a lot of time thinking about it.  I concluded that it is the fought of competition . . . the need to have “winners and losers” . . . the need to determine the “best” . . . to have a pecking order . . . a caste system.  We live in a society of ranking.  A need to determine the “top to bottom” . . . to declare the “best”.  Competition has ruined life.

 

We live in a competitive world.  It is not just sports—it is everything.  Everything is a competition.  Think about it.  Education is competitive—class ranks, scholarship, valedictorian, dean’s list, grades.  Business is competitive.  Politics is competitive.  War is competitive.  Dog shows.  Music.  Art.  Religion.  Shoot!  We even compete to see who has the best yard.  We rank everything . . . declare things the best . . . have our “top twenty, forty, hundred” lists.  We live in a competitive world.

 

I think competition is destroying life.  That competition has taken the “joy” out of life.  Everything is a competition.  It has worn me out!  It has saddened me as I’ve watched it take the “joy” away from so many.  It has all come about winning.  Only one can win—the rest, well they are “losers”.  No one wants to be a “loser”.

 

May its not competition that’s the problem.  May it is the need to have “winners and losers”.  Instead of having “winners and losers” we should embrace the participation award.  After all, everyone competed and should be acknowledged for doing their best . . . for showing up.  The problem with that is that we have glorified “winning” and declared “losing” as bad.  I’ve seen it with my children.  I have seen it with my grandchildren.  Someone is always keeping score . . . declaring “winners and losers”.  Go to any pee wee sporting event in which the score is not being kept and any kids in the game will be able to tell you . . . they know the score . . . they know whether they have won or lost.  It is too ingrained in the psyche of human nature . . . in society.

 

How terrible!  This was never the intention of the Creator.  I think it was the intention of the Holy for a unified effort towards everyone finishing the race together.  Not individual achievement, but the totality of creation.  It wasn’t about who got there first, but that everyone got there.  That is what I believe the Creator intended but we have even bastardized that to the point where we preach “us” against “them” as God’s favorites.  No matter what anyone says, the Holy plays no favorites.  All of creation belongs to the Creator—the call is to be “one”.

 

With that in mind, I probably need to work on keeping the competitive monster locked away.  Instead, I need to focus on enjoying the race . . . enjoying the people . . . enjoy watching how all the pieces fit and work together . . . striving to be the best that they can be.  Striving to cheer everyone across the finish line.  It is a long race, this thing we call life, and it sure helps having someone cheering you along.

 

As I said, I’m not going to go out on top when the end comes.  Nope, I will be lucky if I am 11,397,521,198^th.  I’ll take that participation trophy with pride as an acknowledgement that I made it, and someone noticed my effort.  It’s not whether I win or lose, it’s how I run the race.  How we all run the race.  That’s what matters.  May we all run to our greatest potential.  That is what makes the Creator smile . . . not winning . . . not losing . . . participating.