Every year there comes a time when the flowers begin to bloom, the clocks start springin’, the birds and the bee—woah, hold it there—well long story short, it’s an exciting time of year.  A rare, annual relationship soon takes hold of two people: the ballers… and the bawlers.

Every time a crowd cheers, a poor child in west Kentucky cries.  Every time a buzzer goes off, hundreds of thousands of big boys watch their shot at living the big life disappear.  And after March cashes in, good ‘ole Warren Buffet laughs away all the sukkahs wantin’ his dough.  The way I see it, there’s two types of people in this world: those who miserably fail at their b-ball brackets, and me.  Not trying to be all cocky and self-righteous or whatever, but let me just say I’m pretty much a shoe in for this year.

First, let’s talk numbahs.  My good buddies over at that fancy old NCAA are trying to say the likelihood of getting your bracket completely right is somewhere between 1 in 128 billion to 1 in 9,223,372,036,854,775,808. Well I know they just say that every year.  People like Jonathan laugh as they throw down “cold hard statistics.”  And, oh, don’t even get me started on those lightning strike people. “Did you know you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than to get the bracket right?”  “Oh did you know that winning the lottery is as rare as getting struck by lightning twice in the same spot?”  You know what? Yes, I did know that.  I’ve got only one question for those kinds of people: Peabrain, do you know what its gonna feel like when I’m sitting on Warren Buffet’s G’s and you’re the one getting struck by lightning? Ya, that’s what I thought.  I’m no loser.  I’ll throw down those odds in big black ink like a mean right hook from Kimbo Slice (R.I.P.).  I play from the heart. I’m a winner.

Second off, I’ve got insider knowledge on all the teams.  Some may even say I’m the Raj Raj of the NCAA. Every minute my phone’s blowin’ up with notifications from ESPN, CBS, TBS, even that dinosaur from 60 Minutes.  I’m the Jordan Belfort of March Madness.  I already got three private dinners lined up with Kevin Ollie, Roy Williams, and that other guy.  It’s all Bulls, Bears, and basketball.

Finally, I got the style.  As everyone knows, the people who really got a shot at winning the bracket are the people who get voted most improved on their developmental street ball team (4 times).  They’re the kind of people who talk the most trash, but still manage to drain that half-courter 17% of the time because they only take half court shots.  When you wake up every morning, open your closet, and find yourself face-to-face with the largest selection of stained jerseys and wife beaters, that’s the closet of a winner, that’s my closet.

So all you people out there looking to strike it up this year, well good luck.  I’ll make sure to get you a pony after I win.  Never underestimate the power of a Yale upset fellas.