March is here, and with the advent of spring, a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of basketball.

But this is not just any basketball; this is March Madness.

No other event has us running to the copier trying to make 1,000 copies of the NCAA men's basketball brackets to give to our closest random strangers.

No other event has us rooting for schools with names like "Gonzaga" and "Weber State"--names we've never heard before.

No other event has Dick Vitale screaming into a microphone about "Diaper Dandies" and "Awesome Baby[s]."

Wait a second. Every event Dick Vitale participates in has Dick Vitale screaming about that, which is precisely why I hate Dick Vitale.

I can understand why people can get excited about a Cinderella team upsetting a high seed in the tournament. And I can even understand if Dicky V. gets a little manic as he analyzes the last few seconds of a close game.

But what I can't understand is why he is always that way, even if it is a non-conference game between Alaska-Fairbanks and Youngstown State.

His commentary is always a mileaminuteclicheriddenawesomebaby!

I mean, Elton Brand is a superstar-o-rama! He's a prime-time-player, baby!

Did you see that dynamic dunk, baby? That was UN-BEE-LEE-VA-BULL!

Damn! Dicky V.'s lingo is infiltrating my own speech.

Quick! Change topics before it gets out of hand, baby!

One of These Days

Phew. Glad I got out of that one before it was too late.

I'm in a tournament pool for the umpteenth year in a row. I've never won, but I have a feeling this will be my year.

I'm tied through this past weekend, and all of my Final Four picks are still in the running.

While I wouldn't mind the monetary stipend that would come with winning the pool (note to Harvard College officials, the IRS, et. al.: this is not gambling. This is gaming.), it is not the sole reason I want to be the victor.

The reason I really want to win is to erase the memory of my junior high pool.

A friend of mine--lets call him "Poindexter"--was running a pool for a group of people back in eighth grade.

I was excited about the possibility of showing off my basketball game--picking skill in front of my peers.

And it worked. I won the pool. I was the toast of the lunchroom.

But one thing kept me from being completely satisfied--I wasn't given my much-deserved reward.

"Poindexter" took the money and ran.

Okay, so he didn't run. I saw him in second hour the next day. And I pestered him about the money (which probably wasn't more than $10) for days afterwards.

But eventually I forgot about it. I went my generally happy little way while he went his $10-happier little way.

Every year at this time, though, I'm reminded of that incident.

I'd like to learn to forget everything. I think the only way that can happen is if I win this year.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

A Little Piece of History

Because I am from Illinois, and because I am a former high school basketball player, I figured I would enlighten everyone with a trivia tidbit about March Madness.

According to the Illinois High School Association (IHSA), the term "March Madness" was originally coined in Illinois in reference to the Illinois boys' high school championship.

The phrase "March Madness" is even a trademark of the IHSA.

Much like NBA coach Pat Riley, who originated the term "three-peat" and trademarked it when he was the coach of the Lakers, the IHSA saw the magic in its words.

They would go on to become a few of the most often-uttered words in the third month of the year.

The downside is that Dick Vitale screams them the most.