You are the Bracket Guy. You know, the guy that fills out 10 brackets and after the first day you pick just one.
You know, the one bracket where you are 15-1, not the one where you picked Binghamton over Duke for no other reason than just because you filled out 10 brackets.
You make fun of Joe Lunardi. You tell people he looks like “the kid from Leave it to Beaver,” but for the past four weeks you have checked his updates three times per day to see if Arizona was still on the bubble.
You claim to know every team’s RPI, Strength of Schedule, and record against the Top 50.
Yeah, you’re the guy that does not give a sh** about the economy, vilifies Billy Packer, and won’t vote again for President Obama because he has Virginia Commonwealth upsetting UCLA.
You never went to UCLA, but you used to have a man-crush on Jason Kapono and claim to have seen Tyus Edney’s game winner against Missouri in ‘95.
At work, you tell people that you were at the Valpo/Ole Miss game in 1998 where Bryce Drew hit the game-winning three-pointer, and you sat close enough to see Homer Drew design it.
Really, you were in Mrs. Finkelstein’s science class wearing your sweat-stained South Carolina hat while dissecting a frog.
You know, that South Carolina hat, the one you wore just because it said Cocks on it.
You got rid of the Cocks hat two years later when you were in college and finally realized how gay it was to be associated with anything to do with Cocks other than your own.
When you watch games at a bar, you brag to others about once having a sociology class with Lonnie Baxter and Juan Dixon. You only saw them there twice, once for the midterm and once for the final.
When you go to games, you buy your $300 tickets from StubHub just to sit in section 400, drink $9 light beers, and watch your team get Punk’d by Carolina.
Yeah, you’re the guy who tells people that you thought of the idea for Napster in college and Facebook while getting your MBA.
Yeah, you’re the bracket guy—a real American genius.
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