For most sports fans, the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament is a celebrated encapsulation of everything college athletics is about: unpredictability, passion and jaw-dropping performance.
Not for me.
Back in high school, when my college sports world was ruled by an ESPN regime, I only paid attention to the top teams in the nation. I followed the progress of the AP poll with a keen eye – you know, the North Carolinas, Kentuckys, Dukes and anyone else mainstream media would fall in love with.
Back then, the Big Dance was merely a chance to prove that I watched more ESPN “bracketology” specials than my buddies. I became emotionally entangled solely in whichever 12-seed Dick Vitale and Jay Bilas thought would pull off an upset. But endorsing a favorite team was reserved for the NBA, where the pre-Linsanity Knicks held my unwavering allegiance.
Then, after beginning my first year in college, I did something impossibly foolish: I invested myself in the Northwestern Wildcats.
Wildcat athletics, a program that I had no prior knowledge of that would only hit the glamourous stage of SportsCenter through highlights of brutal losses to ranked Big Ten powerhouses, quickly won me over. I frequented Ryan Field throughout the fall and threw on my Dan Persa jersey over winter break to watch heartbreaking defeats to Michigan State and Texas A&M.
Come basketball season, however, I didn’t see myself as much of a ‘Cats fan. The football team was a legitimately exciting program with great players. Sure, the Meineke Car Care Bowl was far from Pasadena, but four straight bowl appearances certainly warranted my attention. "Plus, we almost beat a bunch of great teams" would be my justification to friends back home.
When I heard the men’s basketball team was one of just five major conference schools to never reach the Tourney, I wasn’t too interested in hopping on a shuttle and checking out the action. That was, until the Cardiac ‘Cats started making things interesting.
There’s no need to rehash 2011-12’s tough losses, but by the time the season hit its final stretch, I was another helpless member of the student section donning my purple apparel and chanting “Reggie! Reggie!” with everyone else.
Watching my friends pick Michigan to reach the Sweet Sixteen was tough. I knew how close we were to beating them and couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if we'd been given a third chance to take down the Wolverines. The incessant “what ifs” that came with watching Michigan, Purdue, Indiana and Ohio State were enough to make a ‘Cat go crazy.
When my friends picked Michigan State to reach the Final Four, that was even tougher to take – this was a team we actually beat.
Worse still was when Norfolk State shocked Missouri and Lehigh upset Duke. I knew how pathetic it was to think “that could have been us!” but didn’t care.
It’s a peculiar experience, watching the NCAA Tournament as a supporter of a team that failed to earn a bid. Part of me praised the college basketball gods for giving me something new to watch, and it was nice catching some hardwood play without shouting, “go U! NU!” every few minutes. Still, part of me was torn knowing that any team can show up and make a run in March. I’d like to think the Wildcats were built to surprise whoever their top-seeded opponent would have been.
Ultimately, this year’s Tourney had me selfishly anticipating next year’s team. For now, watching the Dance has me feeling emotional and abandoned, looking out into the distance and thinking, “Someday, man, that’s gonna be me.” Straight out of a John Hughes film, I know.
To add insult to injury, I incorrectly picked the entire Final Four in my bracket, aside from Kentucky. C'est la vie.