"Monday Monday"

The Mamas and Papas

Face facts, Bunky. Showing up yesterday morning was harder than a year-old Peep. You were tired. You ate too much Sunday. Your brother's kids ransacked your house.

Those are survivable. Something much worse, far more nefarious, made Monday a one-way ticket to Mopesville.

Your brackets.

Within hours of last Thursday's opening games, your picks lay in an advanced state of ruin, torched early by 12 and 13 seeds, destroyed later by the likes of Duke and Georgetown.

The only saving grace was that you were 2 points out of last, a deuce better than Sparky, somebody in accounting's Pomeranian.

Hey, it's something.

March Madness bracketeering is, of course, a game of chance, about the extent of my gambling not counting my investments nor those cloudy days when I venture out sans umbrella (I know, I know: Living on the edge).

But more than gambling, filling out a sheet of winners and losers is a competition, one where it is increasingly clear that knowledge, like charm and a good shoe shine, only goes so far. That's why many current March Madness leaders don't know a lay-up from Louisville.

The playing field is indeed level.

Believe in the system

While the first Monday after the NCAA basketball championships start may be a downer, the three-week process has plenty of democratic principles: one game, one vote; mostly no or nominal fees for participation; brackets are blind to color, religion, gender, age or any other group you can create; underdogs are encouraged and cheered in Horatio Algerish passion; dissent is widespread, especially when high seeds stumble like a Sophocles hero; and even though one winner emerges, we believe in the system and can't wait to do it again next year.

The hit to our economic system is considerable, or so they tell us. According to Chicago workplace consultants Challenger, Gray & Christmas, a little more than 37 million players have filled out brackets and are now kibitzing with fellow losers whose brackets are also in the toilet or whispering behind the backs of those ordained few who still have a shot, who miraculously wrote in Siena and San Diego, whose decision strategies usually start with "eenie meenie," who stand to have bragging rights (and a little extra money) for an entire year.

Challenger, Gray & Christmas estimate that such hand-wringing and general schmoozing around the office will total $1.7 billion in lost productivity before somebody cuts down the nets on April 7.

Any crazier

That's a big number but with an upside, too.

Name another time Larry in loading is going to hang with Archie in accounts receivable. Not at the Christmas party because it's too formal. Not at the group insurance meetings because nobody's happy. Not around the office because we're usually racing around, making up for all that time we lose during March Madness.

With an office pool, however, Larry and Archie can cuss and discuss and determine that each had a "I-coulda-had-a-Davidson" moment. Try that at the company picnic. That's camaraderie.

Of course, madness comes in a variety of flavors, too.

More of us will vote in November probably about 90 million more. The presidential campaign for 2012 will unofficially start the next morning. Officially (meaning lots of money will have changed hands), it will be up and running in 2010. That's two years of telling the same story and much crazier than 37 million people determining the relative basketball merits of teams from Belmont to Boise State and 63 other campuses in between for three weeks in March.