There’s going to be a lot of basketball talk today, and — as always — our take on a mainstream topic is, well, a little off center.

On Saturday night, UNC — the favorite to win it all — lost to Kansas. And while the consensus take is that this was a game Kansas chose to win, a game where they officially got the Roy Williams monkey off their back for good, we think there’s another element that played seriously into the equation. That element was the Dr. Gene Hansbrough Karma.

Forget Roy Williams, forget Bill Self, forget Kansas’ fan base, forget that the Jayhawks looked twice as athletic as the Tarheels on Saturday. As far as we’re concerned, that UNC loss was all about the copious amounts of negative karma brought on by Tyler Hansbrough’s dad, Dr. Gene. Your dad can only spend so many of your televised games blubbering in the stands like a raging idiot before it catches up with you.

And, as the Karma gods are prone to do, they waited for the biggest national spot to enforce their will.

Things your dad can do when you’re a high profile athlete: Attend your games, where one article of team apparel, be televised a maximum of two times a game, drink beers in the stands, eat hot dogs, be accompanied by your mom, be accompanied by some hot chick that’s not your mom, applaud conservatively, fist pump on occasion, tell a ref to “go fuck yourself”, and picture cheerleaders naked.

Things your dad CAN’T DO when you’re a high profile athlete: Be televised so often that casual fans not only know him by first name, they swear they’ll fight him if they ever see him in a bar, WEEP INCESSANTLY, cheer harder than any foreign undergrad in the Duke student section, get more air time than your head coach, have play-by-play guys talk about how smart you are because your dad’s an orthopedic surgeon, or WEEP INCESSANTLY IN THE FIRST HALF BECAUSE YOU MADE A THREE POINT PLAY.

All of the above will garner your team a loss in the most critical of situations. The world’s balance will only take so much douchebaggery. Let’s all learn a lesson from this and be sure to see it coming in the future.

You know the guy. WE ALL know the guy. That one dude in your pool who picks the most spineless bracket possible every single year. He’s the guy you regularly refer to as “dickless asshole” or “my one gay buddy” whenever you’re casually discussing the NCAA tournament at work or in a bar. He’s the guy all your friends raced to make a sarcastic comment about when you saw he picked a 3 seed to upset a 2 seed in the Sweet Sixteen (for the record, you thought your line about him “also joining a pyramid scheme” was pretty money).

Every single year he’s consistently mocked and belittled for his inability to sack up and at least pretend to show some insight. But not this year. Not today. No, March 31, 2008 will be remembered as…

THE DAY MR. CHALK TELLS YOU TO EAT A DONG!

Four #1s in the Final Four! Count ‘em! Four! Who has the insight now?! Who knows sports now?! Who’s the big fucking lameass now?! Who outside of Mr. Chalk could have envisioned Memphis’ free throw percentage not catching up with them, UCLA’s injury rumors being overstated, Bill Self not turning into Bill Self when the pressure was on, and Tyler Hansbrough’s complete lack of NBA potential never coming into play?

Today’s the day you make peace with the fact that Mr. Chalk will be taking your hard earned money. It may help for you to laugh off the audacity. It may help to commiserate with your friends. Or it may help to tell yourself that Clark Kellogg–someone with limited working knowledge of the sport–was the only person who watches college basketball for a living who picked all #1 seeds in the Final Four.

But whatever way you slice it, it’s officially the year of the lameass. It may be time to start preparing for Lakers and Yankees championships and dudes with beards marrying chicks way out of their league.

[Site Note: We’d like to apologize for the lack of content at the end of last week and our inability to give out superlatives this morning. It’s wedding season, and we’ll be spending the next few weekends traumatizing bridesmaids and pitching the idea of escaping to Tijuana to grooms. Things should be back to normal shortly. Please bear with us. Thanks.]

Stephen Curry is a baby-faced assassin. Would you have ever thought you’d rather be Dell Curry’s kid than Patrick Ewing’s? Keep in mind that choosing to be Dell Curry’s kid also means you’d feel kind of weird when thinking about what a cougar your mom is.

The Tampa Bay Massacre should go down as one of the biggest anomalies in sports history and we haven’t heard anyone mention it since Saturday morning. How the hell did four separate higher seeds get incarnated by the 1976 Bucs on the same day?

Indiana doesn’t deserve to get out of the first round until they figure out an alternative to the baggy t-shirt underneath the jersey. Those dudes look like an out of shape middle school squad.

How disappointed would you be if Bruce Pearl wasn’t around for the sweet sixteen?

Was anyone else’s first reaction to Western Kentucky’s game winning shot over Drake a slight sense of devastation at the realization that Kyle Korver’s little brother would no longer be in the tournament?

Who would have thought Washington State would be arguably the most impressive team (along with North Carolina) through the first two rounds of the tourney? That guy on ESPN’s crew who holds up the Cougars flag in the background of College Gameday must have a debilitating rager right now.

So, is Arkansas’ Steven Hill clever enough to be using his haircut to pay tribute to Luke Wilson’s character in “The Royal Tenenbaums”, which would also indirectly mean he’s paying tribute to Bjorn Borg?

Speaking of white guy hairstyles, the dudes from Davidson all look like they’re about to walk into auditions for “Charles in Charge”.

With names like Brook and Robin, it’s good a thing the Stanford twins are seven feet tall and above average at basketball. We have two male cousins named Gale and Ashley, and let’s just say life’s a little bit different for them.

Is the irony of Bob Huggins (non-graduator of players / accumulator of DUIs) knocking Mike Krzyzewski (molder of men) out of the tournament continuing to blow anyone else’s mind right now?

True or False: Having a beer with Ben Hansbrough seems like it would be a million times more awesome than having a beer with his brother Tyler.

And now on to handing out superlatives for the weekend that was…

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We hand out superlatives for the weekend that was.

Achievements in Awesomeness

College Basketball in March. Buzzer Beaters. Upsets. Tornadoes in Atlanta. Bubble Breakers. Cutting down nets. BRACKETS. Selection Sunday shows. BRACKETS. Teams getting shafted. BRACKETS. Beasley v. Mayo in the first round. BRACKETS. Dominating the suckers in your work pool. BRACKETS!!!!!

We get a big uncomfortable rager this time of year. No way around it. The next three days are just one big tedious countdown to slacking off on Thursday and Friday. This video of Minnesota’s ri-fucking-diculous win over Indiana pretty much sums up how we fell right now:

Site News Note: NextRound’s 1st Annual Tournament Challenge: Booth v. All will debut this afternoon. Get excited.

Weekend’s Big Winner

Dennis Felton. Felton’s Tom Coughlin inspired coaching and Georgia’s out-of-nowhere play not only got the Bulldogs into the NCAAs, but also saved a job Felton pretty much deserved to lose. Thank god for the motivating power of urban tornadoes. And as an added bonus–if Felton is a real diabolical son of a bitch–he can take great satisfaction in knowing his team managed to steal a NCAA bid away from a team that’s actually good. Which brings us too…

Weekend’s Big Loser

Seth Greenberg. Virginia Tech barely lost a tough game to North Carolina on Saturday. Following it, their coach Seth Greenberg openly lobbied for the Hokies and their qualifications to be in the dance only to have his heart ripped directly from his chest on Sunday as the selection committee only took four ACC schools. Seth, that’s a tough beat. We feel ya. Billy Packer is taking new appointments if you want to discuss further.

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We hand out superlatives for the weekend that was.

Achievements in Awesomeness

Lebron James. Saturday night Lebron knocked down his third straight halftime buzzer beating bucket, this one a reverse slam where he reminded the world that he’s a redonkulously freaky talent the likes of which we are just beginning to comprehend. And some people talk about Kobe being the best in the league. What a bunch of uninformed assholes.

Redefining Suckiness

Taking Tough Money Line Beats. Georgetown winning a sloppy defensive game by three points when you have the Louisville moneyline and the spread is 3.5 is not the ideal way to start your Saturday. On a separate note, ending your Saturday in the bedroom of a chick that outweighs you is not ideal either.

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We hand out superlatives for the weekend that was.

Achievements in Awesomeness

Kobe Bryant. Over a rather non-eventful weekend, Kobe went for 52, single-handily beat the Mavericks in overtime, and re-established himself as the league’s best player. All of this while his finger is falling off. Avery Johnson said it best after the game: “We gave him a single look, then we double-teamed him, then we gave him a triple-team and he split the triple-team and scored.”

Sure, Kobe’s a reclusive weirdo who lacks media savvy and married his girlfriend the day she graduated high school, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to respect what he does on the court!

Redefining Suckiness

Coach K’s 800th Win. We have no beef with what Mike Krzyzewski has accomplished at Duke. Anyone who can establish a premier basketball program at a small private school in Durham comprised primarily of Asian females deserves some accolades.

What sucks is the media treatment (continual sloppy head), Krzyzewski’s hardwood hypocrisy (best mocked here), and Duke consistently winning games in decisively shady fashion, getting calls like the one DeMarcus Nelson got in closing out the 800th win. WTF is a hook?

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We hand out superlatives for the weekend that was.

Achievements in Awesomeness

Tennessee v. Memphis. Rarely does a game this hyped, pitting #1 and #2 against each other, deliver like this one did. The feat is especially remarkable when you consider the prominent involvement of the state of Tennessee. Sure, it wasn’t always pretty, but we defy you to name a more intense game ever played in February.

As a result of the Vols victory:

• A school known predominately for Tee Martin and women’s basketball is the #1 college hoops team.
• Hetero man crushes on Bruce Pearl are at an all-time high.
• The vast majority of college basketball fans view free throw percentage to be more important than John Calipari does.
• The NBA is drooling over Derrick Rose.
• And we can all safely say we wouldn’t bone Priscilla Presley for less than five figures.

Redefining Suckiness

Klitschko v. Ibragimov. Outside of our boy JB being in attendance and spending his entire night attempting to let Osi Umenyiora know he thinks pooping on chicks is cool, this fight was about as satisfying as a calloused handjob.

Klitschko is Ukranian, which means he’s boring. Ibragimov is a Russian boxer who bears a striking resemblance to your office janitor, not so much Ivan Drago. The fight boiled down to Klitschko poking his way to a judges’ decision over a guy who’s entire arsenal consists of a 3AM haymaker.

And to top it off, prior to the main event, HBO aired a week old match instead of the undercard where John Duddy–big on heart, low on talent–managed a win despite having both eyes split open like fresh cantaloupes. First “John from Cincinnati” and now this? HBO, you’re officially on notice.

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Editor’s Note: Going forward we will dedicate “Case of the Mondays” to recapping the awesome and non-awesome aspects of the weekend that was.

What Was Awesome

Dwight Howard. The dude reached unforseen levels of awesomeness Saturday night.

Even when the slam dunk and three point contests collectively sucked balls for roughly a decade (dudes like Fred Jones and Desmond Mason were taking home the dunk trophy), Saturday night of All-Star weekend was still infinitely better than any other part of the televised festivities. And this past Saturday our boy Dwight Howard took the event to a new stratosphere while establishing himself as the one legitimate challenge to Lebron for NBA mega stardom. Dwight’s agent has to be walking around with a perma-erection.

And, as an added bonus, TNT’s coverage included Charles Barkley discussing pertinent topics like: what cranberry juice looks like without vodka in it; whether Kenny Smith is a certifiable asshole for taking bathroom breaks during the broadcast; how Karl Malone is the third best power forward of all-time behind himself and Tim Duncan; and how to pick winners (Howard and Kapono as locks in their respective competitions) when no one will take a bet with you because they think you have a gambling problem.

We’re currently mapping out our plan for Alabama residency by 2014 so we can vote for Chuck.

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A lot of people feel like shit this morning. The following feel especially craptastic.

The Barber Twins a.k.a. Tiki and Ronde

These two shmarmy assholes made a media play to get some “twin pub” by taking shots at the Giants only to get bested by a quarterback with the charisma of day old corpse and a hundred pound wide receiver.

Way to go Barbers. You two really are meant for bigger and better things. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer pair of UVA grads.

Side Note: Ronde has a slightly worse Case of the Mondays since he’s known as “the Barber twin with the big nose”. Sucks for him. Twins are weird.

Steely McBeam

Life is tough enough when you spend every day breaking barriers as the NFL’s first homosexual mascot, but when the team you represent blows their 4th quarter comeback by running a QB sweep with a guy who can’t even stay upright on a motorcycle, it can almost be too much to take.

Don’t be surprised to hear reports of Steely drinking himself to death in one of the many assorted gay bars in Pittsburgh over the next few weeks . “Steel Alley” is our best guess at place of death.

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This morning a lot of people feel like shit, but the following people feel especially craptastic.

The Guy Who Laid an Egg When His Girlfriend Showed Up

Tony Romo’s lady friend appeared in a suite at Texas Stadium yesterday afternoon, and he promptly choked away home field advantage for his team and fantasy championships for thousands of guys who have nothing else to live for.

With so many external factors it’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly did Romo in, but if we had to guess it was one of the following:

He Made Eye Contact with Jessica’s Creepy Dad. And was then unable to shake the feeling that Joe Simpson had snuck a nanny cam in his and Jessica’s hotel bedroom the night before.

He Spotted Jessica on the Jumbotron. And noticed she was doing her best Britney impersonation, looking remarkably beat-down and rocking a silly version of his jersey on national television. He became so preoccupied with developing tactics to end the relationship he couldn’t call an audible or check off a safety.

He Heard That Jessica Alba is Knocked Up. And was devastated because Alba is next on the ‘Romo To-Do List’. Who the fuck is Cash Warren anyway?

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