Mike Nordberg Talks Some Smack

Hi. I’m Mike Nordberg*. And I’m about to shock the world.

I’m a big fan of movies. Every post I’ve ever done over at Nordblog has used a relevant movie as the title of whatever it is I’m writing about. I like movies that have a surprise ending; movies that catch you by surprise, floor you to your soul, and leave you wondering, “How the hell did I not see that coming?” You know what the closing credits are for? They put them there to give you some time to remove your dropped jaw from your bucket of popcorn. Why? Because that’s how movies are meant to be made.

I’m Keyser Soze. With a kayak.

I like sports, too. I like the heat of competition and the draw of a closely-played match. With the exception of Lehigh-Lafayette, that needs to be an annual bloodbath. (For the record, Lehigh outscored Lafayette 117-42 during my four years. I thought Leopards were supposed to be jungle cats. You guys couldn’t outclaw Garfield.) But that’s the exception to the rule. I like come-from-behind victories, last-second shots that leave wusspants like Adam Morrison in tears like it’s the funeral scene from Steel Magnolias.

Um…I meant Braveheart. Yeah.

Look, I play with the Navy’s torpedoes for a living. All day long. If I wanted to blow the other 16 members of the YAB = You’re a Bracket out of the water, you know I could have. But like I said, I like a close call. (And at the time, I had no idea Kristen Cole went to Lafayette. That might have changed my gameplan a bit.) You see, a good sports movie final doesn’t end with the heroes up by 20 with a minute to play. It ends with a shot heard round the world. Hoosiers. Miracle. The Mighty Ducks. Let’s rock and roll until the final buzzer.

And that’s how I picked my bracket.

Right now, I’m 31 back and in 5th place. And I’m here to tell you know, that was by my divine design. Just look at my bracket. It may read I’ve gone 39-23 to date. That’s the fewest number correct of the ENTIRE bracket pool. I don’t care about that. All I care about is making statement picks. I like to make picks to anger my enemies. But Mike Nordberg? Won’t you lose your chances at some free YAB swag? All in good time, reader. I’ve got to fry some fish.

Torpedo-style.

I said Butler’s going home in the first round. Why? Because Bulldogs are overrated, and I live so close to ODU’s campus, I might as well get a campus dining plan. But as for the other schools of Virginia? I picked them to lose in the first round to make a statement. UVA? VCU? Virginia Tech? You can all go home. Why? Because I’m sick of paying your commonwealth’s car tax on my sweet pick up truck. That’s why. So what if you all won in the first round? I DON’T NEED YOUR CRUMMY POINTS.

And yeah, I had no intention of picking North Carolina to go to the Elite 8. I picked Texas, and not just because of Kevin Durant. You see, my dear brother is a recent Tar Heel grad, and he told Mom that I broke that vase when we were 8. Guess what, Mom. It was Chris. He was practicing corner kicks in the dining room – I was on the computer at the time – designing the ultimate strategy for smoking my next of kin in Battleship. So this was my statement game. Sure, I thought UNC could make it to the Elite 8. But sometimes you need to rock the brotherly boat.

And what about Ohio State??? The archrival to my mighty Michigan Wolverines??? There’s no way I’m picking them with a sound conscience. I had Xavier taking them down. And then Tennessee. And then Texas A&M. And then Georgetown! I should be furious that Greg Oden is still standing!!! They stole 30 points from me by themselves!

But I’m not.

Like I said, Mike Nordberg doesn’t like a blowout. I like for my foes to not know what hit them. Have a plan, and then see what happens – that’s how I roll. For tonight is the national championship game. And I’ve still got a horse in the race. In fact, I’m the only one backing the defending national champions in this race. I’ve got Florida winning at all, and nobody else does.

I’m down 31.
Tonight’s game is worth 32 points.
Do the math, suckers.

* if Mike Nordberg isn’t the actual author, then maybe someone who shares the same first name as his twin brother is. Just a hunch we have.