For the first time ever, I am consumed by March Madness. I kind of paid attention over the years, enough to know Duke and North Carolina are the top teams for what seems like forever—maybe Kentucky too. Crazily, I recognize Duke’s coach. He looks the same except his hair is blacker, not grayer. He has been the Head Coach since 1980 so it’s no wonder his face is familiar face.

The fact my boys are both at University of Oregon, peeked my interest in the pre-March Madness tournament. The commentator Bill Walton was hilarious, fixated on the “honey hole” or the sweet spot for making baskets and the wickedly talented Duck, Francis Okoro, a Nigerian who learned to play the game and speak English only four years ago. I was learning a lot more than basketball; the players are fascinating.

Honey Hole.

The Ducks kept advancing and earned a spot in the Sweet Sixteen. Hubby and I decided to fill out a bracket–the stakes high, a whole dollar.

We printed out the bracket, the tiny print and squished spaces were more intimidating to me than sorting through sixteen teams I barely knew. We both saw Duke and North Carolina fighting to the finish, Duke the crowning champion, again. But how do you figure a bracket winner if we both predict the same outcome? The brackets with the microscopic print were soon buried under newspapers and forgotten.

We lived vicariously through our boys, home for spring break. They were bonding over their brackets and who was left standing. We watched the Sweet Sixteen get whittled down to the Elite Eight and then they went back to school.

That’s it, I thought. “Hubby, let’s make an Elite Eight bracket. Winner gets a buck.”

“You’re on!” Hubby loves a challenge.

I scratched out my picks on a print-out of a media console we were considering. A nice white space in the corner worked fine.  The letters big enough I didn’t need readers or stadium lights to see it.  After watching the Sweet Sixteen games, I learned the teams were all REALLY good, super sweet. The scores were tight and it usually came down to a tiny last-minute error, a bad pass or a hasty shot. Some of those guys that messed up the opportunity were so heartbroken, I almost cried along with them. Ugh.

I went rogue in my choices, going with the less obvious teams to advance.

“You’re going for the underdogs!” Hubby laughed at me.  It seemed like a good strategy and it was working for our youngest son. Heck, a key player on Duke, Zion Williamson pointed to the logo “March Madness” on an interviewer’s microphone when he was asked how the team eked out the win.  “That, right there,” Zion said with a grin.

Hubby played it safe. He seemed confident and wise, certain Virginia and Duke were headed to the championship. I was worried.  What do I really know since I only started watching college ball a few weeks ago?

Well, my strategy paid off so far. Three of my picks are in the Final Four; Hubby has one, Virginia, the only team not advancing on my bracket. I bragged to my friend Kelly about starting a bracket late, how well I was doing and that I didn’t pick Duke to take it all.

“How’d ya do that? I didn’t know you could start a bracket late.”

I text her a picture of my handiwork. Then she got it.

It’s our own March Madness and we like it.

P.S. We are following the Lady Ducks too, Final Four Friday.