2.23

Madness. Madness, I say! March Madness, to be precise. Yes, it's once again that time of the year when we all join together to watch game after game of basketball (or, as I like to call it, "indoor football-lite on uppers"). There are many mysteries surrounding this merciless collegiate pageantry, wherein various institutions of supposedly higher learning devour each other for sport, in the most punishing way possible (did you see what I did there? I can do again, too, if I don't keep getting those checks in the mail every month. Oh wait...).

Foremost amongst these mysteries are: Why do they insist on calling them "free throws" when they end up costing me so very much time? What kind of "basket" has a hole in the bottom, rendering it one of the least effective containers since the Maginot Line (No offense, basketball; I'm sure that, if anything, Hitler was a golf fan). And, of course, the greatest mystery of all: how can a field goal be worth two points AND three points? Science, I'm looking at you here. Totally dropped the ball on that one (yeah, I did it again. Still waiting on that check...)

But of admittedly minor concern, in between the incoherent rage and trying to figure out how to regain that $47,000 you bet on "surefire win Coppin State," perhaps it has crossed your mind, as it has mine, to wonder what it is we find so delightful about the ever-enchanting "upset."

In practically anything outside of sports, rooting for the underdog would generally be considered "A Pretty Bad Time." For instance: we're looking for a new chancellor. Let's make up some candidates and say that, amongst some others, one is Coren Labtree(enstein) (the parenthesis are silent), one is moderately respected and 98.6% likely to not burn the place down Mr. Tooly McBureaucratingham, and one is, let's say, a toddler.

Now, to go back to basketball, odds are, Tooly's the number one seed, Coren's running a respectable fourth seed, and the toddler is "this many." If this were basketball, we'd be rooting like crazy for the toddler, because, let's face it, Tooly had it coming, that smug bastard.

But once on the job, the budget would be spent on graham crackers, Provost Holub would be forced to turn academic affairs into an ever-ready "'Scawy Monstah' Prevention Unit" (fighting fire with fire, as it were), and "Ready for the World" would become "Preparing for Naptime: A Global Approach" ("blanky manufacturing is where the money's at, I swear").

So why is it that we don't want the most consistently talented teams to win, instead cheering for the little (less qualified) guy/gal at every chance? Perhaps it's because we're jealous: "Psh, we may be 0-19, but, hey, that 30-2 team lost to Podunk Community College! We're practically, like, pro in comparison, man." But sour grapes only explain so much bad whining (ok, even I want to pay me to stop by now).

No, instead I'd say that it's not that we want to celebrate mediocrity, tearing down everyone to our own self-pitying level. Instead, we can (or should be able to) ascertain whether something "really matters" or not. With basketball, it's all fun, so we embrace the surprise even if the "very best team" doesn't win. With picking a candidate for a position, you want the best person you can find, even if they aren't lovably improbable or particularly surprising.

In other words, if it matters, well, we need the best for the job. If not, well, hell, it's likely an SGA election. Here's where I'd tell you to vote for SJU as they are, undoubtedly, the underdogs running for a position that is, more or less, purely for the entertainment of the "winning team" and the rest of we losing observers. But apparently SJU's slogan is "Infiltrate. Destroy. Rebuild." which is almost as abysmal as the Mondale/Ferraro '84 motto "We Eat Kittens So You Don't Have To!" Instead of embracing bad marketing, vote for the toddler (with me as VP just in case of rogue tummy aches).

Nothing says "upset" like a toddler running for office.