Breaking down the bracket

I decided to switch things up this year when I filled out my bracket for the NCAA tournament.

I typically go through and pick teams haphazardly, sometimes picking because I saw a team play earlier in the year, other times because I like to imagine Ohio State losing. Every so often, I pick a smaller school to win a few more games than seems reasonable.

It’s a miracle that I get as many games right as I do.

So, this year, I decided to change it up.

No planning. No regional bias. I needed to find a way to take every bit of knowledge I have about basketball out of the equation so I could just pick winners.

So I turned to the mascots.

I took this year’s bracket, replaced every school’s name with its mascot and started from scratch. Truthfully, it’s probably a terrible idea, but it can’t be worse than my current formula.

Before I even started, the first thing I noticed about the new mascot bracket was it was completely disorienting. Other than a few benchmarks with unique names, I wouldn’t know which team was which.

There’s four Wildcats, two of which are one seeds and another a two seed. There’s three different Bulldogs and a pair each of Tigers and Cowboys.

Then there’s the mascots that need more explaining. Chanticleers are fighting roosters, Terrapins are freshwater turtles and Boilermakers are both locomotive manufacturers and a stiff drink.

There’s historical mascots with oddball names that are synonymous with thier state’s residents: Hoosiers, Buckeyes, Tar Heels and Sooners.

For some mascots, I chose to rely on the school’s description. The Hoyas are named after a crowd chant at Georgetown, but use a bulldog mascot. The Fighting Irish could be a number of things, but Notre Dame depicts its mascot as a leprechaun.

Not everything was cut and dry.

So the Blazers, a dragon according to Alabama-Birmingham, would seem to be a formidable opponent, but it ran up against the hypothetical half-bird, half-tornado Cyclones in the first round.

Then came the similarities.

Sure a Leopard is a wild cat, but it’s bigger than a wildcat. But what of a Leopard against a Tiger? Or a Tiger against a Panther? What, exactly, is the difference between a wheat harvester and an Indiana resident?

As much as I wanted the Anteaters to advance, is it reasonable for them to get by a Cowboy? What exactly is a Red Storm and how does it match against a Blue Devil?

There are a lot more upsets than you’d expect. Four of the top eight seeds lost in the first round and only three teams seeded three or higher made the Sweet 16. Two separate 12 seeds made the Elite Eight.

Through minutes of deliberation and consideration, my Final Four came down to Buffalo (Bulls), Baylor (Bears), Michigan State (Spartans) and Iowa State (Cyclones).

I took the Bears over the Bulls, though the only basis was Bears have sharper teeth. The Cyclones continued to blow through the bracket with the reckless abandon of a hybrid twister cardinal and took the national championship.

When matched with the actual schools, does this bracket look good? No.

Will it probably get more correct picks than my classic bracket? Likely.

One thing is clear. There’s no perfect way to pick a bracket.

Picking by mascots is just the most fun way to get it wrong I’ve found yet.