Oddballs in the season of madness

We’ve cycled ’round again to the college basketball tournament. Everyone I know has succumbed to this national cultural narcotic that the NCAA aptly calls March Madness.

So, I have a confession, and it’s a doozy. You’ll respect me less. Friends and co-workers will shun me. My family may disown me.

I wish I could avoid this task. But a column deadline approaches, and I don’t have another idea.

That, my friends, is the measure of my devotion to 30-Second Read.

I’m stalling. Confessing is hard. Here goes.

I don’t get March Madness.

Don’t follow it.

Don’t watch the games.

Don’t complete a tournament bracket. Never have.

And … hang on … don’t care.

I’ve always been this way, even when I lived in that most basketball-crazed mecca of all – North Carolina.

It’s hard being me in this season of obsessive, delirious and insane basketball monomania. We humans are social creatures. I and the 13 others like me get lonely. We feel self-conscious. And odd.

Are we?

Nah.

We are sober and normal. Slam dunk!

We’ll see y’all after the madness.