GAVE’S SOAPBOX

Finally the time has come for the event that brought us all to Temple: the NCAA tournament.

Sixty-four schools, ranging from basketball teams fronting as universities (like Gonzaga and Butler) to universities fronting as basketball teams (like Princeton and California) will all be fighting for the chance to win a tournament more glorious, more awe-inspiring and more explosive than J. Lo and Puffy’s break-up.

Tears will stream down the faces of the defeated and the victorious will gather together at center court in a primitive humping session, but to what end?

Truly the tournament’s beauty goes wasted if its lessons are not bequeathed to all students. Shouldn’t we non-athletes have a chance to do battle tournament- style for grades and glory? Of course we should. Who ever said that your grade should be defined by your personal attributes?

That’s not how it happens in the sports world (i.e. the real world) and that’s not how colleges should operate.

Students should be seeded, pitted against each other in class, and eliminated by the professor–who of course will wear a black and white pinstriped shirt–according to how they fare against their competition.

Imagine getting to wear a jersey with your name on it and squeezing in a buzzer-beating comment that puts you ahead of your feeble-minded freshman opponent.

The blood, the sweat, the tears of the tournament would all be elucidated to your enlightened eyes and its teachings would finally reach your mind. For much like sex and war, the tournament must be experienced in order for it to be fully appreciated and understood.

Sadly, not enough aspects of our lives are administered tournament style. Job interviews are done in prehistoric one-on-one fashion, children are taught to share and be good to one another, and adults wither away in meaningless desk jobs and cocktail parties.

The obvious problem is the lack of tournaments in our day-to-day lives.

Those who ask, “What does it all mean?” have never waved a terrible towel nor have they slept with a cheerleader while drunk on wine coolers and a 56-49 victory over NE Tennessee St. They’ve never poured Gatorade on an old man’s bald head, or cut the net off of the visitor’s basket at Hawaii’s palatial Stan Sheriff Center. These joys of life derive its meaning.

Without them, the entirety of our academic endeavors amount to nothing.

This is why Temple is one of the greatest universities in our land, it annually represents us in the most awesome event humanity has ever undertaken.

So dear friends, cherish the tournament this year, because without it, a Temple diploma would be equivalent to a degree from Xavier, or worse, Monmouth.