I'm afraid I have March Madness!

The post first appeared in the March 16 edition of the Wilson Times.

As I write this column, the Atlantic Coast Conference tournament is already under way. The oddity about this annual event is that I’m not paying any attention — yet.

Television networks are promising us “March Madness,” but all I’m feeling is a bit of anxiety. This is the second year that I have been retired with no office to go to, no demands on my afternoons, no commitments to be productive instead of mesmerized by fast-paced games in ever-larger arenas. I could be turned into a bug-eyed zombie by watching four tournament games in succession and being unable to remember, three hours later, who beat whom.

I’ve been a college basketball fan for more than 50 years. Let me correct that: I’ve been a fan of one particular college basketball team for 50-plus years. I watch games involving that team with a zeal and fixation that is mental, emotional and physical.

When my children were young, they learned to accept the fact that Dad would not be available during certain televised basketball games and that he would periodically shout (nothing profane, just “No-o-o!” or “Rebound!” or “How can you miss a free throw?”) and, when necessary, stomp the floor, sometimes with both feet at once. They survived the trauma and are now basketball fans.  

I’ve learned that such devotion can be hazardous to your health. When I was in college, I never missed my team’s home games. At one game, a particularly important late-season contest, I had tickets in the very top row of the university’s 10,000-seat arena (since downgraded and replaced by a bigger arena). I had a tendency, whenever things did not go the “right” way in the game, to jump from my seat, scream and shake my fists. My seat at this game presented a problem for me. When I stood at my seat, my head hit one of the monstrous steel beams holding up the roof. It took only one bad moment for me to realize the danger. Getting walloped by a ten-ton, foot-wide steel beam will get anyone’s attention, unless that someone is fixated on what is happening on a 94-foot basketball court 200 feet below someone. Throughout that game, which ended in a close loss for my team, I must have leaped from my seat two dozen times. To say I had a headache would be equal to saying Hamlet had a dysfunctional family.

After college, I continued my fanatical interest in my team, but I made it a point not to sit beneath any roof girders, wherever I was. I watched my basketball team on television and was grateful for the development of color television and for expanded programming that put more than one or two college games per week on broadcast networks.

Through the expansion of the ACC from eight colleges to 16, I’ve followed the tournaments. I would try to arrange my schedule so that I could see my team play in afternoon games, and I would be sure to finish dinner before the 7 p.m. game started. When I first became hypnotized by ACC basketball, only the tournament winner advanced to the NCAA tournament. Now, more than 60 teams get into the tournament bracket, and fans are treated to endless speculation and drivel about who’s the top seed and who’s “on the bubble” as CBS, which is paying top dollar to broadcast the NCAA tournament games, encourages an outbreak of “March Madness.”

It’s an amazing illness. “Madness” is dependent upon fans catching the fever, but fans are mistreated with seemingly constant promotions of the next game or tomorrow’s game or an NBA game later on the network and with announcers who rarely say who was charged when a foul is called and with camera shots that ignore the game and focus on someone on the bench or in the stands. Isn’t there a basketball game going on?

The fans at least get an adrenaline burst from the games. The colleges and coaches get paid mega-millions for participating. The players, forced to fit into the NCAA definition of “student athletes,” do the work but get little in return. Their athletic scholarships get them a college education, but they don’t get a share of the monetary bonanza colleges, coaches and networks share.

Not that I’m complaining. I’ll put up with all the inequality, unfairness and bad calls on block/charge incidents if I can just watch the games and see my team win. Assuming my team makes it to the tournament finals, I will be watching Saturday night and all through the weeks of the NCAA tournament. I just can’t stop myself; it’s a madness.

Hal Tarleton was a newspaper editor and writer for 33 years. Contact him at haltarleton@myglnc.com.

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