It’s that time of year again! As we all just finished putting our brackets together with the unwavering certainty of Ray Charles playing Pin-The-Tail-On-The-Donkey, we’ve now entered the period of the insufferable know-it-alls. Your friends, who you once loved, are now putting the Dick in Dicky Vitale. I’m sorry, but if you’ve been spending your weekends watching the Chattanooga Men’s Basketball team, find a fucking hobby dude. I get it–it’s in our DNA as men to give off the musk that we know our sports, but if we’re being honest with ourselves, we know about as much about the field of 64 than we do our parent’s sex life. Oh, they expanded the tournament to 68 teams? Dad likes ass play? Hmm.
Nonetheless, your knowledge of college basketball–which, in turn, translates to your manhood –is going to be tested in these next couple weeks. You will lose respect, friends, and a couple inches off your penis if you don’t follow these 7 steps to acting like you know, when you don’t know shit.
When asked a stat about a particular player, never say “I don’t know,” always say “I forget.” You want to let your friends know that you once cared enough to seek the answer to their question, but you’ve packed in so much sporting knowledge in your head over the years, that it didn’t quite make the cut. “I don’t know” suggests that you were too busy reading books, volunteering at homeless shelters, and generally being a giant, gaping pussy to not know your sports.
The number of pools your in is directly proportional to how many girls you’ve had sex with. This is the new “what’s your number?” Joining multiple pools indicates that you not only have a plethora of friend groups, but it also increases your chances at winning the big $500 pot in one of them–which, if you consider how much you paid to enter each pool–you actually lost 30 bucks. Fuck it, sunk costs AMIRITE?! Oh ya, you’re two weeks late on rent, bruh.
When you have nothing of value to say, shout out how much you hate that white guy from Duke. The school requires the team to acquire one pesky, annoying trust fund baby a year. He is always insufferable. This technique is fail proof and should buy you a little time before your friends find out you think a free throw is worth three points.
The team whose coach looks more likely to have dodged his taxes or cheated on his wife, is the team who will probably win the match. If both coaches equally look like they have tried to fuck their secretary, defer to the usage of hair gel. More hair gel equates to more success. It’s Scumbag Science.
To gauge the college basketball knowledge of the person you’re talking to, throw out a completely inaccurate stat to see if they call you on your bullshit.
Dude, Seton Hall is OBVIOUSLY the sleeper pick. They have that KILLER backcourt in Steven Avery and Brendan Dassey.”
“Ya, Dassey’s having a strong year.”
“Yea, not as strong as Bill Cosby from Wichita State, though.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Steve?”
Accept that your bracket will never be as rock solid as the person you’re talking to. Ignore their condescending scoffs and them hawking a loogie in your eye for picking Austin Peay over Kansas and just tuck your small, lifeless, spotted dick between your legs and accept that they are the Alpha creature. They need that reinforcement more than you. Trust.
At one point during the 1,293 games in the coming weeks that you suddenly have a death stake in, you will have the inescapable urge to turn the basketball off in favor of a light-hearted romantic comedy likely starring Tom Hanks. I cannot stress to you enough how important it is to RESIST THIS URGE. If your friends find out you’ve chosen award-winning Sleepless in Seattle over watching 18-year-old college sophomores representing a school you’ve never heard playing roundball, you will be deader to them than Leo was at the end of Titanic (a fine film from top to bottom.)
There you go, bros. Now you are well equipped to fake it till you make it. Don’t say I’ve never done nothin for ya. Go Texas State A&M Tech!