For years, the early March ritual for me was NCAA tournament research for the bracket challenge. Analytical deep dives, watching commentary, leaning on my gut on an 8/9 matchup. My addictive personality shows itself after Selection Sunday. I foolishly thought there would be a way to “moneyball” the tournament for success, fighting for the prestige around my dad’s workplace water cooler. He couldn’t care less about sports and would ask for help. When he takes his annual trip to Las Vegas, he looks for advice on sports bets. But this year was the first time I refrained from filling out a bracket, and it wasn’t because of a lack of time. It felt pointless.