So, I did some checking with the Washington Post’s amazing bracket database and found that the answer to Dirk’s question, unsurprisingly, is no.

But I also discovered that only three No. 1 seeds have even made the FINAL FOUR without beating a Top-7 seed.

’91 North Carolina beat a 16 seed, a 9 seed, a 12 seed, and a 10 seed.
’01 Michigan State beat a 16, 9, 12, 11.
’08 Kansas beat a 16, 8, 12, 10.

Nerdy, yes. Also cool.

19-13 in the first round. Good enough for last place.

6-10 in the second round. Good enough for last place.

I have 3 of my Elite 8 left. I have 2 of my Four left.

I’m losing to a cat (a real cat) that made his picks based on bird mascots and colors.

My only hope is that Stephanie’s bracket wins (she’s in fourth place) and she throws a couple bucks my way.

“Qatar?! It’s hot there! It’s small there! Don’t they know there needs to be a U after the Q?”

But then I saw the stadiums that they’re going to build. Convertible upper decks! Outdoor air conditioning! Water taxis!

Now I’m trying to find Qatar on a map to see if I can get a plane ticket there.

Had a good time on the first few holes — everyone friendly, everyone playing well or at least laughing at bad shots.

We hit our tee shots on the fifth hole, a par 3, and set off up the hill to hit our second. The woman’s ball found the trees and she was none too happy. She chipped out near the green.

Meanwhile, the son and I are playing our second shots and the old guy goes to the bathroom while he waits, as his ball was already on the green.

The mom lines up for he third shot and completely shanks it. I mean, she was aimed straight ahead and the ball went straight left. She storms over and grabs the ball, walks over to the cart and just sits there. She’s done with the hole.

By this time, the older guy’s out of the bathroom, so we’re all kinda standing there looking at each other, surprised by the outburst. We finish up the and head over to the next tee.

The mom and son, riding together, hang back a second and then drive over.

“Hey guys, that’s it for us today. We’re gonna head back to the clubhouse,” the son says.

Old guy and I just kinda look at each other and shrug. Who quits after five holes? Plus it was just a couple bad shots. Who cares?

We walk over and shake hands with the son, who’s still sitting in the driver’s seat. Nice to meet you. Thanks for playing.

The entire time the mom is just sitting there in the cart, red in the face and seemingly on the verge of tears. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t shake our hands. Wouldn’t even look at us.

Awkward!

So they drive off. We hit our tee shots on No. 6 and start the walk down the hill. The old guy drives up next to me.

“You know,” he says, “I hope she didn’t take offense to me taking a little break in that Porta Potty to smoke some weed. I think she might have smelled it.”

We spent the rest of the round trying to figure put whether it was the divot or the doobie that made her so mad.

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.

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]

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

(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]