What? Nobody picked Butler or Michigan State to win the title? Shocking.

Sean gets the gold star for being the only person with Sparty or the Dogs in the Final Four. (Only two brackets even had Butler in the Elite 8.) No love for the 5-seeds, I guess.

With the left side of the bracket completely finished, here’s a look at the scenarios remaining. (Three people have Duke in the final and two people have West Virginia. Championship game outcome doesn’t matter at this point):

Duke beats West Virginia: Tim P. wins with Dirk in second.

West Virginia beats Duke: John P. wins and Andy P. gets second.

Full leaderboard here. And I’m still waiting on money from most of you, so pay up.

Watching four live basketball games in one day is hard. Almost too hard. So it helps when:

1. You get yelled at the minute you get into town by an angry local pedestrian who was almost hit while crossing the street illegally.

2. While searching for parking (any parking) you find a toothless guy with three spots left. Literally steps from the front door.

3. You get interviewed by a reporter from the local paper who’s impressed that you’ve made the trip all the way from Nebraska without a team to root for. (Watch for our story and photos in Friday’s Providence Journal. OK, maybe no photos. Story here.)

4. The first game of the day, which should be a blowout, nearly ends up as one of the biggest upsets in tournament history. You instantly become a Robert Morris fan.

5. Get to decide which mascot is creepier: Richmond’s four-legged red “spider” or the St. Mary’s dude who’s a dead ringer for the Geico caveman.

6. After asking the guys in front of you why they’re passing money back and forth each time there’s a dead ball, you win two bucks playing the greatest basketball gambling game ever.

7. Oh yeah. Game 3 is a 14-seed over a No. 3. And game 4 goes down to the last shot.

Helge’s finalizing the updates to the online bracket and I’m getting ready to send out the invitations to the 2010 version of the pool. In the mean time, remind yourself of the rules and send in suggestions for this year’s “official” sponsor. Last year: Bernie Madoff. (I’m thinking Tiger Woods is as good a choice as any, but I’ll listen to other opinions.) Newcomers are always welcome, assuming you’re not going to report us to the feds. That’s just mean.

I’ll be collecting brackets through Thursday morning by email or carrier pigeon. So get in touch if you’re interested. I’ll add a link to the online bracket as soon as it’s finalized.

[436 Bracket challenge]

Saints win. Good job, man.

Tiger’s transformation into the golf version of A-Rod is nearly complete. Now all we need is a denial on 60 Minutes and a Madonna sighting.

[NY Times - Doctor who treated top athletes is subject of doping inquiry]

Joe Sheehan of Baseball Prospectus makes the argument for using pitchFX (or some other computer) instead of a human for calling balls and strikes. There is no debate about what constitutes the strike zone. There’s nothing subjective about it. So why do we put up with variations?

(And after watching Joe Mauer get robbed last night in the 11th inning by some blind ump in left field, I might suggest some kind of robot umpire down the lines, too.)

“If a breaking ball crosses the plate at a point between a batter’s knees and the midpoint between his shoulders and pants, it’s a strike, no matter what the anachronism behind the plate thinks he sees. In eighteendicketysix, a human being was state-of-the-art technology for making these decisions. Now, you can get better information — we do get better information — by using better technology. Championships should be decided by the players and by what actually happened, not by what somebody thinks happened.”

Amen, brother. Amen.

[Baseball Prospectus - The Human Element]

Today was the day.

I thought Andy Roddick had finally done it. (And, from reading about the match, it seems he was closer than I had even realized at first … 6-1 in the tiebreak? Sheesh). I thought he had finally fulfilled that “promise” we had always seen in him. He was going to beat Roger Federer in the Wimbledon final.

It was going to be the talk of the sports world. A watershed moment. The breakthrough Americans had been waiting for.

And then we all got ahead of ourselves. It was just the second set. And he was playing the world’s best.

Just like we did with soccer two weeks ago. On the cusp of a real breakthrough, we forgot that sports are heartbreaking. And breathtaking. And cruel. And beautiful.

So, we wait another year for that “one big win.” It has to come sometime, right?

Story from Saturday at the CWS …

We walked into the stadium and immediately noticed the giant contingent of Arkansas fans. And of course they’re all standing, waving their arms doing that damn hog call.

“Woooooooooo. Pig sooey!”

Had a good laugh remembering how uncomfortable Dana Altman looked at the press conference when he was introduced as the Razorbacks’ basketball coach back in 2007.

Later on, Mom and Dad are killing some time between games, having a beer at the house-formerly-known-as-the-Stander-residence (Ron’s gone now). Guess who walks up the street? It’s Dana!

Dad doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hey there, Dana. I’m surprised you weren’t here for the first game today to see the Razorbacks.”

He’s joking of course, but he said Altman just froze. I’m sure he was half confused (“Who IS this guy?”) and half horrified (“Arkansas … huh? … HEY!”)

“I’m just kidding, Coach. We’re glad you decided to come back to Omaha.”

I just wish they would have offered Altman a beer. A couple Bud Lights and who knows, maybe he would have done the hog call again.

In honor of the start of another College World Series, let’s all take some time to remember Omaha’s favorite parking lot pastime:

Beat the meat!

[old Omaha.com -- Beat the meat video]

A woman at work is always giving me a hard time because I play golf all the time but have never gotten a hole in one. She writes a weekly story about an Omahan with an interesting ace story, and she’s always asking, “Did you get one yet?”

Yesterday was my chance for a pretty sweet story and I failed. Since my Sunday Publinks match was canceled, I got a raincheck at Benson Park, which I used yesterday. I thought I was going to get to play by myself (always preferable to the inevitable five-hour round when playing with others).

Instead I got paired with actor John Beasley and his wife.

Alas, no hole in one. There’s only one par 3 on the front nine and I stopped it about 20 feet right of the flag. I think I just got a little too excited about listing an Omaha celebrity as a witness on my scorecard.