There's always next year

Southern Illinoisans are a hopeful lot.

They plant trees even though they won't be around to see them grown ... and they love the Dawgs.

I was never a sports fan before I became an imported Southern Illinoisan, but tonight I found myself standing in my living room, four feet from the TV, alternately whooping, cussing, squealing and slapping my forehead.

I'm new at this NCAA business, so I don't take it like a real Illinoisan.

: (

On the bright side, I'm learning a lot about where the love of my life developed her loyalty, forgiving nature and pragmatic optimism. She loves me like she loves her Bears and her Dawgs ... warts and all ... and without unrealistic expections. Sports in Illinois, like the love of a good Southern Illinoisan, isn't always perfect, but once you've experienced it you pretty much can't imagine life without it.

Oh, and if he can't end his college career with an NCAA championship, please God, give Jamaal Tatum an NBA contract and let him keep his hair.

Kwach

March Madness?

Okay...the NCAAs are upon us again. And my friend Robin has invited me to prognosticate. LOL...foolish Robin! Here's what I know, what I believe, and what I hope:

The SIU Salukis are seeded #4 in their bracket. That makes me slightly nauseated. It's one thing to show up at the Big Dance ranked at the bottom. The expectations are low and the potential for greatness is big. Being seeded at the top, however, is virtually a gold-plated invitation to failure. At what stage in the process do we end up humiliated? In the first round against Holy Cross? God forbid! There's an extra level of mortification about losing to a religious school. Like, "Jesus likes us better."

How about in the second round? The Sweet Sixteen? When is the proper time to go down in flames?

I haven't had time to study the seedings yet since I've been busy palpitating, but I'll look at it today with the steely, unsentimental gaze of the oft-disappointed Illinoisan and decide when I believe the big choke-a-thon will happen for my Dawgs.

Oh...and Robin, the only Hoosier worth mentioning (sorry Gorgy and Steve), has observed the seasonal rituals of her adopted home:

"...Work officially stopped here in Indiana at 11:00 AM today in honor of the kickoff of the blessed event. It's a great time to be living in Indiana - in groups, with client's, at bus stops, etc., we all whip out our rankings and begin comparing and arguing in loud, Hoosierish voices. I've picked Florida to win again solely on my unnatural fixation on Joaqin Noah - that boy is something to watch! "

Of course, I'm fond of Robin, but it's never a great time to be a Hoosier. It's just a slightly less embarrassing time. At least they're spared the annual ritual of trying to explain away Bobby Knight.