March Madness kid

You sir, are a man on the front lines. You’re at the cutting edge of everything new, trendy—“hip.” Those socks you’re wearing? Stridelines. All the cool kids are repping their hometown. Your shoes? Nike. Your shorts? Nike. Your shirt? Nike. Your hair? If Nike made hair, you’d be wearing it. Something, however, poses a threat to your indomitable swag: March Madness.

It’s that time of year when wearing generic Seahawks paraphernalia won’t make you the most masculine man on campus, when even your Nike garb won’t guarantee you the respect and adoration of every Patriot at Liberty. It’s that time of year when women won’t inexplicably swoon at the sight of the Seattle Skyline adorning your adolescent ankles.

But does this faze you in the slightest? Of course not. You’re the kind of guy that likes a challenge. And so it is with religious fervor that you seize upon this March Madness craze. You fill out a bracket. You argue team stats with friends. You buy a ton of merchandise from Duke (someone on ESPN said they were going to win this year), and you even watch highlight reels from previous games.

And no matter whether or not your bracket is all that good (it isn’t), or whether or not Duke wins (they won’t), you can rest assured that you still dominate one-on-one in P.E. basketball (watching SCTop10 really helped). After all, March Madness Kid, you’re one of us.