I don't speak "Man"

First of all, let me begin with what is probably a glaring, obvious and redundant statement, which is to say, I am.....a man. Not just any kind of man, but an extremely macho, manly man. I'm so manly, I am confident I don't have to belabor the point of how manly I am, because to do so would only indicate a sense of unsureness or insecurity in my manhood, of which I have none. Besides, my mommy says I'm a big man now, so I don't know what more proof you could want.

I would go on and on and list how many things that I have had punched on my man card, but again, as a man, there is no need. (and frankly, as a man, the list is so long, we haven't the time to list them all)

Yet, every year, the Ides of March come, which in Roman times was a pretty manly holiday, what with celebrations dedicated to Mars the God of War and all, not to mention to the manliest of assassinations in the murder of Julius Cesar, but it's about this time every year that I start to feel, you know, not so manly? Especially here in West Chester, the Philly 'Burbs, the whole Northeastern, Mid Atlantic States part of the USA.

But Andy, how can that be? I know I know, as strange as it seems, it is sadly the truth. About this time of year every year is the annual event known as "March Madness". It is the time where tall young men, supposed scholar athletes, gather together in squeaky sneakers, wife beaters and baggy shorts and bounce a basketball around until through the process of elimination, one team will emerge victorious as the NCAA champions of Basketball. At least that's my understanding of it.

Where I lose my manhood street cred, is in that, well, here it goes, I don't fucking care about College Basketball! I don't know the teams, I don't know the players, I don't know the coaches, I don't know who won last night, who's playing today, who's playing tomorrow, and I just, don't, care.

The thing of it is, my fellow men, seemingly most of them, obsess over March Madness. I mean they know everything about it, from the big, strategic aspects of things like picking who will go into what bracket and why, down to the tiniest of minutiae. And there in lies the problem. Men communicate in a certain language that's not meant to be easily interpreted by other people. The other people being women of course. Women, and maybe nerds and theater majors perhaps. Now I will readily admit that I fall into the nerd category in some respect, but I will say that I'm mostly in the manly world than in the nerdy world.

Speaking of nerds, it always struck me as funny the disdain that some of these sports obsessed guys have for the nerd obsessed guys, be they the sci-fi fantasy types and the society for creative anachronism types, when in fact that same childlike obsession skill set is present in both types of guys. For a funny read on this, check out this article written in The Onion.

So when it happens that for whatever reason that two men who are strangers to each other have to communicate, they usually speak in the language of March Madness. As if this was some sort of universal language where no matter what our differences in age, culture, income and socio-economic standing, we will have this common ground of analysing why one group of college age kids will do better than another group of college age kids in placing a ball in a basket.

When this happens to me it makes me feel like a freaking immigrant, like someone has come up to me and started babbling something completely incomprehensible, and I have to sheepishly answer "eh, sorry, no speeky di engleesh"

The question before me is, should I make an effort to speak the language? Should I force myself to be in a self imposed exile from the manly community, or should I start paying attention to the sports pages and CNN/SI and ESPN.com and should I create a fantasy league and on and on and on with all the things that men seem to do? Look, I want to get promoted at work, I need to schmooze with my bosses, I want to have a social life that involves men standing around in the opposite corner from our women on a backyard deck over a smoking outdoor grill full of bloody red meats drinking ice cold beers while we discuss the finer points of the"violence as comedy" in the Three Stooges shorts, but it seems part of that is going to have to include getting brushed up on all this March Madness crap.

Anybody else feel this way, or is it just me? Oh and "Go Villanova Wildcats!" or something....