Stovall Has A Question For You...

HOW MY ASS TASTE?


HOOOOOOOBOY. HOOOOBOY. HOW YOU LIKE IT, HOW YOU LIKE IT, HOW YOU LIKE IT?

Looks like everyone not named Zack got lined up and rolled out on a STRETCHER this year in the GRH NCAA Brackakke. I emerged victorious, vanquishing my foes with wit, wisdom, and mental dexterity hitherto UNSEEN in modern bracketology. The near misses...the upsets...the close calls. Describes some games in the tournament, but couldn't be further from describing the GRH brackets against me. It was me in a landslide.

Hold up, Harvard called. They need someone to speak at the commencement ceremony for their renowned Comm. V. Schmidlapp School of Bracketology. Hope I can make it when I'm not using my knowledge to teach computers how to moonwalk in VEGAS.

I don't think anybody is surprised. I'm full of nothing but basketball prowess. I didn't even have to watch any basketball games this year, I JUST KNEW. I knew where to pick my spots and how I needed to proceed in my quest to become the most vaunted bracketoleger, perhaps methinks, OF ALL TIME.

How many correct Final Four picks? One. Kentucky. How much in the field? Zero. I WIN!!!

Teams don't matter as much though. You've GOTTA find the hot hand in the deck. Who's coming into the tournament looking good? Jimmer Fredette? A pale, mormony excuse of a basketball player. What about Butler's Matt Howard? He's tall, isn't he? But no, everybody, YOURS TRULY, knew Kemba Walker was about to run a train on this tournament. His shots were the ones you had to SEE TO BELIEVE. In him, I put my faith, believing he'd drag his team, kicking and scream, to at least the championship game. And he did.

Of course, I thought Kemba Walker played for Pitt, and had them in the championship game. But again, no matter. I WIN!!!

I'd like to take a moment and thank all of the people I so savagely destroyed in the process of getting mine. Lattimer: Wasn't expecting a lot out of you, but you brought out the vigor I knew you'd have. You losing was a constant source of inspiration for me, both on and off the court. No really, I was laughing to myself about it later, helped me sleep. Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse. You have, by far, the most basketball expertise of anyone I know, outside, of course, of myself. You came in dead last. The writing is on the wall, the stars are aligned in the western skies; you will be a great bracketeer one day. NOT TODAY, GRASSHOPPER. NOT. TO. DAY. And the rest of you unimportant flunkies whose name either escaped me or never dwelled in my august brain region: Enjoy the smell. Waft in my vapors. Take in my aura as it glides past you, seemingly effortless, but with purpose and power. You will all fall before me one day anyway. Enjoy your bipedal, upright view for the time being.

And let's score more than 60 points next year. Our brackets all sucked.

The Adventures of Dogus Balbay in America

Dogus Balbay is a freshman point guard for the University of Texas. After playing well in the Turkish basketball league, he has come to the United States to better himself, and hopefully make more money. These are chronicles of the trials and tribulations of culture shock.

This Week: DOGUS FAILS!

Dogus is in a daze. Dogus doesn't know what to do. Dogus' friends, his family, what will they say? "You'll always be a goatherder." Dogus can't stand to hear that again. Dogus doesn't know what happened.

Dogus was described as 'scrappy' by the announcers. They praised his effort. Dogus was sure not to let them see him dribble with his left hand. Verne Lundquist would not have been so kind had they seen the evil left hand. They also always brought up the Ricky Rubio. Dogus will kill Ricky Rubio.

Things went ok, and Dogus danced. Danced into the night. Dogus was dancing in the Green borough of Carolina of the North. Dogus liked this land. Trees were everywhere, and there were cigarettes everywhere. Dogus likes trees, they don't have enough in Turkey. Dogus also likes cigarettes, they remind him of home. But then Dogus found out that a great evil lurked in the Northern Carolina...

HITLER ATTACKED!

Dogus' ancestors used to be friends with Hitler's ancestors. No longer. Now Hitler hates Dogus. Hitler orders minions to pressure Dogus' right hand. Hitler's minions set ruthless picks on Dogus. Dogus spends a lot of time on the ground. Dogus' shot selection is poor. Dogus tries, but nothing works. The evil Hitler and his Devils force Dogus to shoot free throws.

Now, Dogus dances no longer. Dogus encounters existential plight.