Blame Cannada

Tis the season for bracket wagers and friendly betting, but if prior years are any indication, I’m just going to be throwing my money away.

I know my college basketball. I keep up with the sport as much as anybody else, so I can’t help but be intrigued by bracket pools when March rolls around.

What a time to be alive.

You know that feeling you get when you’ve won the lottery during one of your dreams? You’ve hit the jackpot, you’re getting ready to spend your winnings, and suddenly…you’re awake.

No money. No new car in the driveway. No early retirement. Just the same old circumstances you found yourself in when you fell asleep.

I don’t understand long distance running.

I get that it’s very competitive and that people who can run five-minute miles have reached a level of athleticism that I could only dream of, but it’s hard for me to comprehend why people enjoy doing this to themselves.

This past weekend, I ran a 10-mile race near Furman.

You’ve probably heard it all about Dean Smith.

He was an innovator, an advocate for civil rights, a teacher, a mentor, a two-time national champion—a Tar Heel legend. All of that stuff is true.

But Dean was also the architect of “The Carolina Way.”

At the risk of sounding redundant, allow me the join the chorus of armchair coaches across the nation saying: what was that?

Super Bowl XLIX didn’t disappoint, but when it came time to be clutch and put away a second-straight championship, Pete Carroll did.

But more on his awful play call in a moment…

It will be a cold day you know where when I pay proper homage to the “legendary,” “honorable” Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski (or Coach K to the common tongue).

What’s happening to our world?

No, I’m not talking about terror threats, the economy or foreign affairs—I’m referring to a California girls’ basketball coach who got suspended after dishing out the butt-whoopin’ of the century.