Ugh…

It amazes me how quickly the floor can drop out from under one's own feet, how instantaneously one can go from the top of the world to being scraped from the soles of the shoes of passersby.

Like used chewing gum.

Or worse.

As of late Friday, my brackets were fine. Yes, Memphis had been brought down by Missouri, once again gagging at the free-throw line, a scene reminiscent of the one they stumbled through in the Championship game last year against Kansas.

And yes, speaking of Kansas, I'd seen them upended by Michigan State, those silly Spartans guaranteed of only two things; advancing when I say they'll fall, and absolutely laying an egg when I say they'll go far.

But the rest of my Elite Eight teams were in place, actually lining up quite nicely, thank you very much.

Louisville looked absolutely wicked blowing the doors clean off of Arizona. And there was no way, no way that Michigan State was going to be able to slow them down enough to keep that game close.

North Carolina and Oklahoma had both advanced and were nicely set up for a game that was shaping up to be just what I'd expected: Blake Griffin would more than hold his own inside against the 'Heels and Oklahoma's outside shooting had finally come alive against Syracuse. The game had the makings of a beautiful inside-outside beat-down; there was simply no way a team in baby-blue, argyle-accented unis could take that kind of heat.

Pitt had finally broken the Sweet Sixteen jinx, advancing beyond that cloyingly named round for the first time since forever. Yes, their wins had all been a little closer than I'd have liked but, hey, this is Pitt we're talking about. There's nothing, ever, nice and clean about a Pittsburgh anything. Teams reflect their surroundings, and that's no different at the college level than it is in the pros. Pittsburgh, the town that brought you the Steelers, was not going to give you the Harlem Globetrotters. The Panthers are grinders, and grinders sometimes keep the margins a little close.

Villanova had done everything I'd asked of them, surviving the scare American put into them, then dispatching UCLA and Duke with greater and greater ease.

They'd actually made Coach K cry. What more could you want?

But then, as with any plot as twisted and insidious as the NCAA Tournament, things began to twist in on themselves.

Any hope for my Western bracket, long ago scotched by Memphis' early exit, rested on upstart Mizzou working its magic on Jim Calhoun's Connecticut dogs. Just about everybody'd picked the Huskies coming out of the West, so if I couldn't succeed with my Memphis pick, at least I could root for those other Tigers to hamstring everyone else.

Nothing personal…

It even looked as though the fates were on my side when news of a seedy recruitment-violation story got thrown at UConn on their way to the second weekend of the tourney. But while the Huskies didn't look near as dominant as they had earlier against the Boilermakers, Aggies and Mocs, they looked good enough and did what they had to to advance.

One Final Four bracket pooched.

In the East, Pitt and Villanova played pretty much the game everybody expected, one with more twists and roundabouts than anyone could possibly keep track of, leads shifting back and forth, momentum seesawing from one team to the other and back again before you knew what was happening. 'Nova was doing a very good job of making Pitt look human, but like I said, who hadn't; Pitt thrived on keeping it close and I, sucker of suckers, thought that that would somehow make them stronger as the tournament went on. But then, and stop me if you've heard this before, Pitt's free throws started clanging. And banging. And clunking and clanking, bonking and thonking, bricking and sticking.

Villanova responded by going something ridiculous like 23 of 24 from the stripe and none of Pitt's muscle mattered a wit.

Suddenly, "Poof!" just like that, another bracket was torched, this one taking my eventual Tournament Champion with it.

And then Sunday happened. The Spartans, with their stupid little lantern-jawed mascot, made Louisville look, made them look, good Lord, they made them look awful! Or Rick Pitino made Louisville look awful. Tough to run the other team out of the building, force them to play the wild and wacky up-tempo game that keeps opposing coaches up at night, if you decide to squat in a 2-3 zone defense from the opening tip. Louisville may have done a better job of beating Louisville than Michigan State did, but with everything Michigan has been through lately, maybe more than any other state in the country they deserved a little good news.

Over in the South, Oklahoma apparently forgot to bring its rangefinders. The long-range artillery that had been so instrumental in taking out the 'Cuse was gone, dead-eye snipers replaced by brick-laying boobs. Carolina happily lassoed big Blake Griffin in the middle, giving him just enough room to keep his team in the game, and forcing him to pass back out to Village People when it really counted.

And just like that, the whole house of cards came crashing down.

I clearly know nothing more about college basketball than I did at this time last year. I'm as ignorant as they come, no more likely to pick winning brackets than someone who just arrived from the Moon. My brackets are nothing more than dry tinder, set ablaze by the kindling of my tournament buy-in.

But I'll be back next year, I guarantee you that.

For now, I say bet it all on UConn in a high-scoring free-for-all over 'Nova.

Trust me…

You can always reach Alex Cudaback at cuda24@yahoo.com