March Madness and Other Rambling Nonsense

We're nearing the end of March and like many of you, I've been hyper-exposed to college basketball.

Now, this is not unusual for me, as I become swept up in the excitement of the competition every year around NCAA Tournament time. In my book, the tournament is the greatest event in all of sportsdom, and once you've seen it, it's difficult to ignore and impossible to overlook.

But I don't know if I can watch anymore college basketball.

Actually, I'm certainly capable of watching more games, but I don't know how much of what I will view in the next couple of weeks will even register.

In fact, lately I've come to suspect that very little of the spectacle infiltrates my conscious mind at all. I'm beginning to think that my conscious mind, my upper mind - the one that likes beer and melted cheese, not to mention long legs and nicely rounded backsides - is completely missing out.

And that's not a good thing, because I really like that part of my mind, and that part of my mind really likes basketball.

It seems a different part of me is getting the most out of the tournament. A different part of my mind is on the receiving end of all the things it has to offer.

Unfortunately, I don't like the way that part of my mind is running the store.

Yesterday, I had an in-depth conversation, with a guy I don't know, about George Mason University. Apparently, George Mason's basketball team is a tournament underdog, and is still managing to win against tougher opponents.

And apparently, I know this.

Now, this little tidbit of knowledge seems innocuous, right? Seems par for the course, doesn't it? It's something even the casual viewer would know, right?

Well, not only do I know that, but I also know where George Mason University is located. I know the type of school it is, its student population, at least three distinguished alums, and most embarrassing of all, the class and major of the person who plays its mascot.

Two weeks ago I didn't know this stuff. Two weeks ago, I didn't even know there was a George Mason University. I would have bet there was a Jackie Mason University before I would have guessed at George Mason. Yet, not only has that other part of my mind absorbed all this junk information, it has foregone beer, melted cheese, and long legs in favor of using it in social settings.

It actually talks about these things!!

And the really bizarre thing is, while I'm immersed in a conversation like the one about George Mason University with the guy I didn't know, my brain sort of splits in two. I can continue the conversation without interruption, but the good part of me, the part of my mind I really like, flies above it all, and wonders who the hell is controlling the half still in the conversation.

It's as if the real me is looking at this automaton me, this basketball robot me, and to be quite honest, is a little bit afraid of him.

Not only that, but the good part of my mind, while hovering above the "inane conversation" part of my mind, wonders if the other guy has a good part of his mind, too. It wonders if his good mind is also hovering above the trivial conversation, wondering who's controlling his other half.

The two good parts of our minds no doubt say things like, "To hell with these two fools. Let's go get a beer and talk to those girls in short skirts over there."

Still I doubt I can turn away from the tournament now. As I mentioned it is an impossible event to ignore.

So where I will go through the motions of sitting in front of a bank of TVs at the local sports bar with my other hoops junky friends for the remainder of the tournament, I have a feeling the images flashing before me will be nothing but a collage of Orwellian "assimilation" videos that once complete, will have me spouting final scores, stats, and mascot trivia without a bit of thought or understanding to what I'm saying.

In short, I will have achieved a different sort of March madness.