Fathead Blog

The season spans five months, but the madness of the NCAA basketball tournament makes one month more significant than all the others combined: March. For four weeks each March, while the boys of summer begin spring training and professional golf moves from the west coast to Florida, college basketball sits squarely in the collective conscience of the American sports-viewing public. And the yearly edition of the NCAA basketball tournament continues to be “the greatest show on earth.”

This time of year, it’s hard not to think of Kentucky’s horse fences or the budding flowers lining Tobacco Road in North Carolina. These states are synonymous with college basketball, and their universities have thrilled us time and time again on the hardwood. But each year, the royal families of basketball get some competition for the hearts of America from one team: the “little guy.”

At every level, from the small college gymnasiums of Division III to the huge stadiums of the Final Four, college basketball decides its national champions on the court—not in the polls. When the tournament dust settles, there is no arguing the best college basketball team in America. (Are you listening, college football?)

March is the month of the little guy. Every few years, the tournament features a smaller school upsetting a few larger, heavily favored teams and capturing the imagination of fans and media alike. The 68-team tournament serves as the great equalizer, pitting large universities with national fan bases and huge operating budgets against smaller schools with tenacity and a cohesive style of play, reminding us of the style of basketball played in decades past.

Like an old-fashioned playground fistfight, the NCAA tournament is the perfect way to settle scores. When fist meets chin, a school’s size, fan base and national reputation mean very little. Each school sends its five best players to the floor. In a world where this statement is often made but rarely meant, size means nothing in the NCAA tournament (though it doesn’t hurt to have a talented 7-footer on your team).

A funny thing happens across living rooms and in arenas when an underdog challenges a favorite deep into the second half of a tournament game. Electricity builds as fans cheer for schools they don’t care about and players they don’t know, for one simple reason: Americans love an underdog.

Last season, tiny Butler University from the state of Indiana took basketball behemoth Duke to the brink of elimination in what would’ve been college basketball’s equivalent of the Hickory Huskers upsetting the South Bend Central Bears in “Hoosiers.” For 40 minutes, Butler’s group of relative unknowns stayed with the Coca-Cola of college basketball programs basket for basket. In the end, a half-court shot for the history books missed by less than an inch.

Underdog Butler's Mascot, Blue II

But the moment wasn’t lost on Butler, Duke, the media or the millions of fans watching at home with weary eyes and clenched fists. Prior to last season’s tournament, most fans couldn’t have named the town where Butler University is located. Several years ago, the same could be said for George Mason University and before that, it was Valparaiso University. And yet, each year fans stand with sweaty palms, hoarse voices and accelerated heartbeats—all hoping to see David slay Goliath.

As Americans, rooting for the underdog must be part of our DNA. As underdogs ourselves, we won our independence from a bigger, stronger rival and established the “a man can be anything he wants” credo. Americans have a soft spot for the overachieving “little guy.” We love him. We are him. Each March, we can’t get enough of him.

The underdog represents the best of America—in sports and beyond. As we look forward to all this month holds in store, somewhere out there an underdog is preparing to capture our hearts. Long live college basketball.

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