January 28th, 2009
Have we really only finished two?
Green, me and you need to finish the original, pioneering Thursday Night Sensationalizationalism bracket.
The next year, Blue captained the Oregon Ducks to a special dress championship celebration at The Pressroom.
Following that, I believe I took an unheralded Alabama team led by Brody Croyle to the title, and while I received many compliments and accolades, I am still awaiting my dinner.
The next installment saw great process, as Blue indicated that there are only 5 teams remaining, and I know much of the college football world is still on the edge of their collective seats in anticipation for the West Virginia - Ohio State showdown. That can easily be finished in much the same fashion as the previous season.
Last year was probably our worst effort, as not even a single game was started. There was much intrigue around the league as a rookie gamer had received his charter and would be making his first appearance, but alas, it was not to be. Much, if not absolutely all, of the blame for that debacle can be placed squarely on these shoulders, which still carry that burden to this day. I won't try to justify anything with excuses, other than to say that it was not a good situation. But, the draft was completed, and play can resume, or should I say begin, at any time.
Some of us are even in the midst of a tournament at this very moment, and while it is a noble effort which I have every intention of finishing, and winning, I do not think it should take precedence over any post-season events. The good thing is that we already have completed the first round, which may not sound like a lot, but means that we are more than half-way done.
The beauty is that none of these tournaments ever really end. They live on long after the final seconds tick off the clock. One man reveling in the glory of victory, with the admiration of his peers, and his name etched permanently in the annals of history; another writhing in the agony of defeat, left to wonder what could have been.
The games replay in our minds during the short and dark days of winter, sleepless nights turning to the blooms of spring. The high sun of summer brings with it an unbridled enthusiasm, crescendoing to the pageantry of a new season. But like the autumn leaves, that hope can just as quickly fall to the ground, crashing like the cymbals of the great bands that make Saturday's feel so alive. It leaves us as quickly as it arrived, the turning of the solstice bringing with it shorter days. But as darkness continues to encroach, we stand firmly of the light of knowledge that the final game on the gridiron does not signal an end, but rather a new beginning.
Numbers will be crunched, figures tabulated, labs completed, and brackets drawn. Each valiant warrior will select his weapons for which to do battle with in this most noble of endeavors. The purest form of sport, this model, built on the foundations of integrity, gives way for the crowning of a true champion, and lets mere men become legends.
The time is upon us, so I say unto you, in the words of my two little bruthas, "You might as well have the band bring out the popcorn, baby!"
Pick up your sticks . . .
Red
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