Great Danes

Tomorrow morning, Saturday, I am meeting my buddy Ken for breakfast.  We have these periodic breakfasts to solve the problems of the world.  An hour and a half later, the world is as filled with problems as it had been previously. Nevertheless we typically feel better after our eggs and toast.

We exchanged e-mails today, Friday, to determine our meeting time.  He suggested 930.  I wrote back that that was a fine time, because I wanted to be back by 1130 to root for my alma mater who will be playing Vermont tomorrow on ESPN2 for the AmericaEast championship, the tickets to the big NCAA dance, and the right to be slaughtered by a team whose bench players were recruited harder than the main stud for Albany.

Why must I be back at 1130?  Why do I care about the fortunes of Albany State?  I graduated from Albany before Nixon got caught.  The Beatles had not yet broken up.  Nobody had a  computer, or a cell phone, or an ipad, or an e-mail address.

Why do I care if Albany wins tomorrow and goes to the big NCAA dance?  When my fraternity cronies got together this year to watch a game, the bunch of us discussed the team and kept using the pronoun "we'" to refer to the team's performance. "We stunk up the court the last time we played Vermont."  "If we can't beat Binghamton we should hang them up."

What is with the "we?"  I do not know a soul on the Albany team.  I do know some people in the stands who have season tickets, but not one player.

Nevertheless, I will not be alone among the alums of UAlbany tomorrow at 1130 who will wear some sort of purple and gold attire as we sit in our living rooms, drink coffee, and shout for our team to prevail.

Before the Georgetown-Syracuse game tonight I heard a broadcaster comment that the scalpers were getting over 500 dollars for a seat to the semi-final game.  Why would anyone pay that amount to watch a ball game?

The answer to why I care about Albany and why people paid 500 bucks a ticket to see Syracuse beat Georgetown in overtime may be a mystery, but explains why March is madness.