The Worst of It
The worst of it is that there’s now no one left to root for in the men’s final. As I told a colleague of mine via email last week, I am constitutionally incapable of rooting for any team that comes from the state of Florida. In any sport. Call it a fault of my upbringing, southeastern sour grapes.
But I also find both of the major Los Angeles collegiate teams to be so relentlessly overexposed, so coddled and pampered, that I cannot pull for them, either. (Seriously, guys: get a real conference, and then come talk to me.)
So I officially could not care less—not by as much as an iota—about Monday night’s outcome. The only thing I could cheer would be if somehow both teams managed to get themselves disqualified.
Which means it’s now all about the women. Go Pokey!
