I don’t know what I was expecting.
Every year, I do all of the smart-sports-guy analysis stuff that most in my profession do when filling out my NCAA tournament bracket: hours of research, video study and arguing with other sports guys over things like, “How the heck is anyone supposed to stop Creighton’s offense?”
As usual, I thought I had all the answers one day, and then the underdogs had their way with my bracket shortly afterward. I normally do fairly well in my pools, either placing in the middle or blowing the championship game, because I underestimated the teams’ final score total. This year, though, my bracket was full of strikeouts — it looked a lot like the legendary facemask of hockey goalie Gerry Cheevers.
Of my Final Four teams, only one remained after the Elite Eight: Florida. I had one bracket pool where I picked them to win it all and, by this time, it was the only one I had a chance to win. It was going to be tougher than a $2 steak, but I said a few words together that I probably shouldn’t have.
“Because they’re my only Final Four team left, I’m rooting for the Gators,” I texted a friend.
I’ve historically had terrible, horrible luck pulling for Florida teams, especially the ones close to Tampa Bay. I don’t know why, and I’m not always bothered by it, but there are times when it does affect me.
Like Florida/UConn Round III, one of the two Final Four matchups. Nevermind that UConn has one of the most lethal guard combos in the country, or the fact that they had already beaten the Gators more than once this season. Florida was bigger, stronger, more consistent and, doggone it, they were going to get revenge and help me win one of my pools. Until they didn’t, losing 63-53.
Before that, it was the football team. I had picked the Gators to win the 2013 Sugar Bowl and 2008 Capital One Bowl, like I did in every bowl game they had played since 2007. The only difference between these and the other bowl games is the fact that I was watching them, and they lost each time to an inferior opponent. I also watched nearly every one of their games in the 2013 season, which most of you probably still don’t want to talk about right now.
If we’re moving from league to league, I had predicted that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers would do fairly well in 2013, perhaps even winning the division by surprise. I watched all of their games through the first half of the season, even though I figured they would be terrible after watching them choke away the New York Jets game on a boneheaded defensive play.
When I told people that I would rather have Josh Freeman quarterbacking the Bills instead of Ryan Fitzpatrick, Freeman started to look like he forgot how to play football.
When I saw the new helmet unveiling, I told everyone that the new uniforms would probably be awesome. Nope!
The Miami Dolphins lose every time I watch them play, but I’m a Buffalo guy — I enjoy that.
If we’re moving from sport to sport, I’ve been going to Tampa Bay Lightning games on and off for the past six years. Whether I go to watch my Sabres take them on or even go to root for Tampa to win, they lose.
They’ve lost every single game I’ve ever attended at the Tampa Bay Times Forum — even Jan. 18’s game against the Sharks, when Martin St. Louis scored four goals and played like everyone around him was barefooted on the ice. Because of this, my friends have stopped inviting me to go with them.
I’m safe to bring to Rays games, because they’re 1-0 (a win over Kansas City) when I go to the Trop. But when they got to the World Series in 2008, I predicted they’d win in six games and … well, that couldn’t have gone much worse.
The only team that seems to be immune to me is Florida State’s football team, but maybe not — I reassured people before that controversial logo change that everything would be alright, and … yikes. That thing looks like Mel Kiper Jr. in mid-sneeze.
I’m hoping that, if nothing else, whatever strange curse I have on Tampa Bay professional sports teams is lifted soon, because it stinks to root for teams that seem doomed even before the opening whistle.