Let's hear it for the underdogs

“The thing I like about the NCAA College Basketball Tournament is that any team can win it all.”

I was explaining to my wife why I was standing in front of the TV, eyes glued to the NCAA Tournament and not sitting in my usual place with her watching the evening news. The truth is, although I have a few favorite teams, my main attraction to March Madness is in anticipating the little guys, the Lehighs, the Virginia Commonwealths, and the Norfolk States taking down the big boys, the Dukes, the Michigans, and the Missouris.

But why? Why do I and so many others pull for the underdog? Is it just because we want to see the mighty fall?

There’s more to it than that.

Certainly, the thrill of the unexpected is part of it; it is exciting to see the number one seed go down. But when you start thinking about the psychology of why we choose to cheer for the underdog, it gets complicated.

The underdog brings out contradictions. A part of us hopes the underdog will win. Maybe we have an inherent desire for social equality, for the haves to know what it’s like to be a have not, for the privileged to trade places with the underprivileged, for the aristocracy to experience the common life.

On the other hand, we like to see talent and effort rewarded. We like to think that if we try hard and take the more difficult courses, we will be compensated accordingly. After all, there is a reason why underdogs are the underdogs: Based on prior performance and level of competition, they are not expected to beat their more successful and sometimes more disciplined opponents.

And to further complicate what’s going on in our minds when we support the underdog, think about this: The less attached we are to a team, the more likely we are to root for the opposing underdog. It’s okay for the underdog to upset a team we are neutral towards or don’t like. But we don’t want our team to be a victim of the upstart. When I heard that Norfolk State had surprised Missouri, I smiled. But when South Dakota State shot ahead of Baylor, my alma mater, early in their first round game, I wanted absolutely no part of an upset.

The narrative of the underdog has deep cross cultural roots in our history. From David and Goliath to Robert the Bruce to Rocky Balboa to the Arab Spring, the underdog is a constant player in our communal psyche. We can relate because we have felt like the underdog, and when we are down, the fantasy of overcoming engenders hope for us to rise from the ashes.

But, while we find inspiration in those stories of the long shot winning against all odds, our sympathy for the underdog is fickle. Scott Allison, professor of psychology at the University of Richmond, cites what he calls the “Wal-Mart effect.” We root for our small town store when the dominating corporation moves in, but when it comes to the best buy on our television, we opt for the cheaper price at the powerful chain store. He concludes that our affinity for the lesser team is “a mile wide and an inch deep.”

We are, at least to a degree, motivated by our own self interest, are we not?

So I’ll cheer for the underdogs until they play my alma mater or step on the court against the favorite team of the folks I would have to console come Sunday morning should their team lose, the fans who because of their team’s loss may not listen to the sermon, or may, in rehearsing the nightmare of their defeat, forget that the offering plate was passed, after all.

So let’s hear it for the underdogs!

As long they aren’t playing the teams we like.

Are you out of your mind? Or is it March Madness?

What causes us--- normally restrained, responsible people with jobs and families---to lose our minds, whoop and holler, jump up and down, pump our fists in the air, and shout “YES!” as we high five each other?

It’s March Madness, of course, the NCAA Division I basketball tournament which results in the national champion. And if your team didn’t make it, you can find a favorite. For me, it’s usually an underdog---and with the bracket Kentucky had to claw through this year, they surely qualify as one.

In the surprising moments that that make March Madness what it is, anything can happen. For a few hours, we forget about the heavy stuff: economic uncertainties, tragedy in Japan, turmoil in the Middle East, stress at work, problems at home, and we breathe in the moments that make March Madness what it is. In the words of Dick Vitale, “It’s unbelievable, baby!”

But wait a minute, before you stay up too late enjoying the Kentucky-UConn matchup this Saturday night, you might want to know there’s something amiss on the court, and it’s not a conspiracy by the referees to give the Big East representative an advantage over the Cats.

No, it’s more serious than even that, according to U.S. Secretary of Education, Arne Duncan. The real March Madness is the fact that 10 of the 68 teams invited to the NCAA tournament this year did not meet the Knight Commission on Intercollegiate Athletics proposal that teams should be eligible for postseason play only if they are graduating at least half of their players. Although Duncan acknowledges that the NCAA has made progress in boosting the academic performance of Division I basketball teams, there is still much, much work to do.

And that’s not all: In the last five NCAA tournaments, 44% of the $409 million distributed to the teams with top performances went to teams not on track to graduate at least 50% of their players

But that’s not all. There’s more; it gets worse. Not only did 10 of the 68 teams fail to meet the Knight Commissions proposals, but there also exists a growing disparity between the graduation rates of blacks and whites, with a national average of 91% of white players graduating compared with 59% of blacks. (The University of Kentucky graduated 31% of their black players, compared to 100% of their white teammates.)

And March Madness gets more problematic. Richard Vedder and Matthew Denhart, in an article published by The Wall Street Journal, contend that this whole business of March Madness is just that, a business, specifically a business in which the athletes are being exploited by the coaches they play for and universities they represent. The athletes bring in much more revenue for the university’s athletic program and the bloated salaries of the coaches than the players receive in return. The authors suggest that the players should unionize, or something like that.

And silly me, all I wanted to do was enjoy a March Madness moment. After all, isn’t it the moment we wait for? It’s the team’s go-to-man charging down the court with only a few seconds left, the ball leaving his fingertips, the crowd cringing, the ball swishing through the net just as the buzzer signals game over. One team rejoices in victory; the other falls prostrate on the floor. Isn’t that it---the reason we watch, and isn’t that why we lose our minds over a game?

I believe it is. It’s Kentucky coach John Calipari flashing that proud papa smile at DeAndre Liggins as coach embraces player; it’s Virginia Commonwealth coach Shaka Smart leaving the court with the net around his neck; it’s Kansas star Markieff Morris crying as he walks slowly off the court. Yes, the moment.

The real March Madness is caught up in a series of moments the summation of which is a collective craziness that helps us keep our sanity for the real world we must face on Monday morning.

So, for a brief period of time this weekend, I’m going to enjoy the moment. I’m going to put the Knight Commission’s proposals on the backburner; I’m not going to think about the graduation ratio and the question of whether players should band together for a better deal than an opportunity for a college education and a chance to make a lot of money.

I’m going to enjoy the moment, and if I run yelling and screaming through the house as the Kentucky Wildcats score the winning basket, don’t accuse me of being out of my mind. It’s only March Madness.


David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., is Pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He also teaches on the adjunct faculty at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. You can contact him at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com