So…I have to admit something.

I hate basketball.

I didn’t always. And to be fair, I will on a rare occasion shoot some baskets (or try to, anyway). I was never more than indifferent to it as a spectator sport, but then life experiences took place that made it intolerable to me.

I  just can’t watch that crap. It’s torture to me.

This goes back about four decades to when I was working for Public Broadcasting, and because, at that time, they couldn’t give away the rights to cover college sports, the state legislature mandated that we had to cover Marshall University’s basketball and football.

The football I didn’t mind so much. We mainly covered road games, and I didn’t already have a semi-sour attitude toward the sport. Basketball, on the other hand, was not anything I would ever choose to watch. I associate it with school, and that’s a pretty negative association.

But covering it for Public Broadcasting meant 18-hour days of back-breaking labor, loading in and out, pulling cables, having to sit next to John Dickensheets, being forced to be nice to Marshall Athletic Boosters (an unsavory lot at best back then), and then coming home to a bi-polar wife in the waning months of an emotionally grueling, abusive marriage.

Seeing basketball on TV brings back all those memories.

So, while I am always a huge proponent of folks doing what makes them happy, I really resent the non-stop coverage and obsessive talk about the annual NCAA basketball tournament. I’d really rather never have to hear about it again.  If you enjoy basketball, go right ahead. You don’t need my permission or participation. Aside from that, no offense, folks, but you all can take that college basketball and shove it up your collective asses.

Seriously, don’t ask me about brackets unless you’re putting up some freaking shelves.

When March rolls around, there’s only one Madness I care about. You can see a cool documentary about them up at the top of this post.