In Heaven There Is No Beer

While I was busy doing other things this weekend (but I still found time to watch the games, oh yes I did, you bettah believe it), my beloved Iowa Hawkeyes stormed their way to the Big Ten Tournament title. So the selection committee promptly gifted them with a #3 seeding for The Dance. That happens to be their second-highest seeding ever - they were a 2 once, and just missed going to the Final Four that year (by virtue of blowing like a 20-point halftime lead on UNLV). And I've actually even heard their name come up in national title contender discussions, although not by very many people. Or very often. But I've heard it. And that rocks.

I love The Dance. The upsets. The close calls. The storied rivalries. The amazing finishes. The no-names who suddenly have names. The announcers going wild. The crowd going wilder. The filling out of the brackets. The office pool shit-talkin'. The heartbreak when your first Final Four team goes down in the second round. The ecstasy of that 12-seed that you picked going to the Elite Eight actually doing it. The madness of the first four days, where it seems like they're playing basketball somewhere in America at any given minute. Ahhhhhhhh. I loves me some Cubbies, and I loves me some Bear and Hawkeye football, but there's nothing quite like these three-plus weeks in March.

Now if they'd just stop sticking Iowa in Duke's regional every stinkin' year. At least this year it won't matter until the Elite Eight, if at all... but if it does end up mattering, I'm going to be ticked. Bad enough that my two favorite teams may have to face off for a spot in the Final Four, but even worse that my second-favorite is very clearly the better of the two. But let's burn that bridge when we come to it, shall we? I'm still basking in the glow of that 3-seed.