Tournament Trauma

I am currently in last place in my family's NCAA Basketball Tournament pool. I am a pathetic 19 points behind my dad, who is now in first. (Just this afternoon, he overtook my mom, who made her picks based on personal associations with the schools playing in the tournament. For instance, if she had visited the school or knew someone who attended the school, she picked that team to win.)

Meanwhile, one of my final four teams lost in the first round (Georgia Tech). Yesterday, I watched Xavier, who I had going all the way to the championship game, blow a 9-point lead and lose in overtime. Of course, my method for picking my teams was no more scientific than my mom's, but every year I naively convince myself that even the most rabid college basketball fans won't be able to predict the future, and I have just as much of a chance of winning as anyone else. And every year I end up in dead last.

Fortunately, the picture above was taken at a Bulls game I attended last week. I couldn't really care less about the NBA so mostly I just took in the spectacle that is a professional sporting event and tried to concentrate on not passing out from vertigo since our seats were so high up that I was convinced if I tripped or stumbled, I would end up plummeting to my death. It was a good time.