My hoops bracket fell apart yesterday when Memphis dusted Texas … which ticked me off because I had all the fundamental elements for success in place: Assume the Big 10 is overrated and will choke, find a hot 3-shooting team, dismiss the team that cannot shoot free throws (which is what killed me with Memphis), and factor in pseudo-home court advantages when possible (good job UNC, not quite, Longhorns).

Truthfully, I didn’t even tune in, because I was too busy watching far more interesting NCAA tournament action … on the ice. Now you tell me what’s not to love about hockey. Fast action … big hits … in the last two minutes of the game, you aren’t subjected to 14 timeouts with a barrage of Viagra commercials … and the skill those athletes possess, combining fancy skating on a slippery surface, with graceful stickwork and pinpoint shots …

Hey wait … slippery feet, fancy stickwork, innate skills developed over years … that’s FLYFISHING!!!

Granted, we’re a bit light on the athleticism, mullets, and bloody knuckles, but if anyone wants to argue the beauty of hockey as a distant third cousin twice-removed from flyfishing, I’m ready to drop my fingerless gloves and have a go, right now. Well, maybe not.