Ode To the NCAA Tourney

On this night, of early spring, When flowers bloom and children sing, A festival starts of heav'nly power, Pitting the ant with the mighty tower. For tonight, in the third month of all, Begins a tournament of basketball.

Students they are, or at least they say, From schools like Penn and Libert-ay, Duke, Temple, Alabama, And Southwestern Louisiana. They will converge, oh yes they will, Until but one can stand still.

Who will be this powerful one? Who will return with a job well done? With guards a-dashing, centers tall, Forwards who can shoot the ball. Who is strong enough not to lose? Might it be top-seeded Purdue?

"Or maybe not," the seers chime. "They will not will this one time. Someone else will take the crown, Someone else with take the town, Another one, who no one trusts, The one that makes the bracket bust."

But who is this sainted team? What men can tilt the balance beam? Like the Broncos of Santa Clara, Who beat strong `Zona, to end their era, And even thoughst they lost to Temple, They made a mark, more than a pimple.

Who indeed, this shadow is, Perhaps Rider, or Green Bay-Wis. Might these squads shock the cynics? Perhaps they will defy physics? Might their tries fall in the netted hoop? Might they make Cal feel like poop?

Or maybe not, not in the least. Maybe this year there is no beast. What if all the favorites won, And the Charleston four were number ones, And all the upstarts went right home, Having lost in the Suncoast Dome.

"Which one will happen!" all you cry, "Will the towers win, or will they fry? Can Texas beat Western Kentucky? Or are they simply too sucky? Tell me so I can call my bookie! If you do I'll give you a cookie!"

But I do not care about such matters, About such silly, idle chatters, I am a fan, innocent and frazzled, I want to be rocked and be dazzled, I love the game, I am a fool, Give me not an office pool.

So I watch the games, every and each, Any game that is within my reach, Watching, ranting, cheering, raving, Yelling, calling, arms a-waving, "Why, why," I scream again, "Can no games be on ESPN?"

And so I wonder what will happen, To the titan, and the lilliputian, Perhaps the `dogs shall be champs, Or maybe not, if they are damped, Then their win tallies would be none, But that would be just no fun.

I like the upsets, the wacky wins, Florida falling to James Madison, Kentucky scared by Tennessee State, And then in a cruel twist of fate, The `Cats behind to Seton Hall, Praying and hoping that they will not fall.

"Let the Games begin!" is what I say, I'll be waiting for it the whole day, And when the match comes on my screen, I'll scream, "On Tulsa! Go for the spleen!" And even if the Wave can not win, There'll be more ants for me to yell for again.

Eric F. Brown is the Sports Cube's art writer. He reads Yeats, has a fetish for pretty sunsets and settles for nothing cheaper than a relationship.