Bracketology is about picking with your heart

From Selection Sunday to the opening game tip-off, millions of fans feel a sense of hope that they might be the ones to pick the perfect bracket, even if they don’t know what the hell is going on. It’s beautiful, it’s heartbreaking, it’s March Madness.

This annual celebration is not just a time for diehard basketball fans to consume hours of high-octane matchups, but also a rare moment when restrictions are lowered, allowing friends to join in the fun of sportsball. Bonded by rooting for schools you might never have heard of, and following the excitement of cultural discussion. “Who did Obama pick to win this year?” If you can navigate the CBS Sports website, you too can ride the two-week rollercoaster of emotion. 

Between the unpredictability of scrappy small school match-ups and the one-and-done tournament rules. Anything can happen.

I’m in my second year of managing a pool, the Shitbird Soirée, and it’s brought me an unexpected amount of joy amidst the chaos of work, political turmoil in the world, and general heaviness of life. Here, the only thing that matters are the upsets, the shit-talking, and the point totals. 

While I look at my bracket pool, my knowledgeable sports friends, you know, the ones who keep SportsCenter on as white noise, were some of the first to submit their picks. There are family members and Gonzaga alumni who live to watch (and talk about) their small school’s success on the national stage. The returning champion, my cousin’s girlfriend, is back to quietly defend her title.

But the party also includes my sisters, who I’d venture haven’t watched a single season game before the tournament, and are currently in the top spots. It’s early – but they’ve made their position known in the family group chat.

A last-minute ringer is a guy I’ve met through work and happens to have a name similar to my brother-in-law’s. This week, in a frenzy to get everyone invited, I accidentally texted him the link along with a minor insult. Instead of responding in confusion or anger, he filled out his bracket, and Venmoed me the entry fee. A great sport and eager to join a league, he is also currently at the top of the standings.

An assortment of friends from different times in my life, I know all of them, but they don’t all know each other, only who picked the upsets and who’s got the best insights. It truly is a beautiful unifying moment.

I’m not saying it’s the only thing that matters to me, but winning this bracket pool could make someone’s life substantially better, at least for a few weeks. The prize pot is near $325, not nothing in this economy, but the bragging rights to claim for one shining moment in the Shitbird Soirée is the real prize.