Over the years, I’ve watched the games without fail—on my TV at home, at neighborhood bars filled with rabid fans, on my desktop computer at work (often interrupted by cheers from across the office, when someone makes a stunning shot and I realize I’m not the only one pretending to actually work). I’ve even been known to book an occasional weekend getaway, where my entire itinerary is to watch the games from my hotel room while ordering room service. In fact, two weekends ago, before it became too risky to fly, I was supposed to be in Miami, where I had planned to spend much of my time watching the chaotic first two rounds—with games being played at the same time on multiple channels, and the promise of more historic upsets tantalizingly within reach.
For almost any sports fan, there is no two-and-half-week period quite like March Madness, the addictively compelling tournament that caps off the college basketball season each year. Over three consecutive weekends, as the teams narrow to 64 to 32 to 16 to 8 and then, most exciting of all, the Final Four, viewers get to watch stunning, bracket-busting upsets, miraculous comebacks, star-making turns by undersized and unknown players, and finally the crowning of a champion and on-court celebrations that are a mixture of confetti and tears.
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