Let me start by saying that I don't follow college basketball. I don't read statistics on teams. I don't watch highlights of regular season games. I don't study sports pundits "Selection Sunday" picks. But for 3 weeks out of the year, I am complete obsessed with all things March Madness and I carry my bracket selections around with me like my small children carry their stuffed animals at bed time. I analyze it, dissect it, calculate my points in different scenarios, and generally drive everyone around me completely insane until the last second of the National Championship Game is played. It a sickness; one that I willingly embrace (if not look forward to) every year. I blame this insanity every March on my ex husband (Mr. X for short). Prior to meeting him I had never seen a bracket, nevertheless filled one out. Right before our one year "dating" anniversary, the NCAA Tournament was going to start and he asked me if I was interested in submitting a bracket for his office pool. Now I'm a girl that likes sports and a challenge, add that to be very smitten with this man so I figured "why not?" Since I had no clue about college basketball (and I was not a girl who picked teams by uniform color or hottest looking players), I decided that I needed to educate myself a little and headed to the sports page of my local Chicago newspaper for a summary of all of the teams who were playing. Herb Gould and the Chicago Sun Times were a wealth of information and I used them, plus my own gut feelings on match-ups, to craft my very first bracket and emailed it to Mr. X to submit. The tournament started, games were played, and my picks were doing pretty good. As we got deeper in to the tournament, Mr. X kept telling me that my bracket was getting higher and higher on the leader board of the work pool. Long story short, I won. The whole thing. And trounced Mr. X in the process. It was the first time in the almost year of our relationship that I had beat him at anything and I reveled in it! As a rule, Mr. X is not a good loser but he rolled with it pretty well. Until, of course, I discovered at a work function six months later that the bracket had been submitted under his name (version #2), and everyone at work assumed HE won! After a good laugh and him being teased for the rest of the time that his girlfriend beat him, I let it go and just rejoiced in my victory.
As the years went on, we both looked forward to March Madness. It was a reminder of the beginning of our relationship and the friendship we had at our base. We moved several times, got married, had children, and every March filled out a bracket for our own personal tournament "pool". Every year, I went back to Herb Gould and the Chicago Sun Times for my "research" so I wouldn't jinx myself. I went so far as to beg and plead an intern at the Sun Times to fax me the article and a copy of Herb's predictions one year because they weren't available online, we lived in another state, and I absolutely NEEDED that information to fill out my bracket (he did - I can be very persuasive). Ridiculous bets were made. There were "servants for the weekend" wagers that required one of us to wear a walkie-talkie at all times and be at the other person's beck and call for an entire 48-hour period (we each lost a year on that one). There was a wager that netted me a significant amount of money to spend a Burberry one year, and him a new set of golf clubs and gear. And the smack talking that went on was relentless, with both of our families jumping in to the mix. It was good, constructive, honest fun.
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| My brackets |
Fast forward seven years and Mr. X and I separated. He asked if I still wanted to do the bracket pool the following March and I agreed. Instead of a fun wager this time, I was wagering for extra grocery money - "stock up money" as I called it. I wasn't desperate for it - please don't misinterpret. I may have a lot of complaints about Mr. X but he has never missed a payment to me and he financial provides for his children. But the wager now was a real life tangible - something that would benefit the girls and I – instead of something that was frivolous. The entire three weeks of the tournament wasn't as fun as it used to be. For me, it was a painful reminder of a relationship that was no longer. A base that had been broken and shattered. I tried as much as I could to be friendly and upbeat; to make it seem like it used to between us for those three weeks in March. I won that year, but it didn't have the same ring to it like it had in years past. It was an empty victory. I agreed again last year to do the pool for a modest wager, despite us both dating other people. As in the previous year, I painted a happy face on and tried to be funny and light hearted about the whole thing but it was painful for me. Too many reminders of things that "we" shared when there was a "we". When March rolled around this year, I sat back and really thought about if I wanted to go through it again. So much has changed between the two of us and how I feel I am treated now is not how I want to be treated from someone who says they are my friend. The thought of talking to him for a reason other than for the children every day for the next three weeks and pretending that the scorched earth that it not only behind us but that we are currently standing in doesn't exist is not something I am interested in doing. I can't. It's not fun for me anymore to be reminded that the life I participated in building with someone is no more. So when Mr. X sent me the "Hey it's March, let's do our brackets and here's what I want to wager this year" email, for the first time I politely declined. After a decade and a 7-3 record in my favor, I have packed up my bags and closed the door behind me. I am learning to take back the things that are important to me - even something as small as filling out a bracket - from the shadows of the past, and bring them in to the present and future with my stamp on them. For me, the ties of the past do nothing but strangle me and hold me back from moving forward with my life, my growth, my process, and my challenges. I am proud of myself for recognizing that this was the last thing I held on to, as silly as it may sound, and I have ended it. Rest In Peace, my March Madness of old. Thank you for all of the memories you gave me. I will cherish them for a life time.
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