It's ... Madness.

True, I may not be the type of girl who screams 'athlete,' but while I sadly have no athletic ability beyond tennis, I do actually love most opportunities to take on the role of sports spectator ... especially during March Madness.

It is during this time that I literally turn into another creature - anxiously awaiting for the infamous bracket to be available and then watching basketball all day once the tournament starts (and refreshing ESPN's real-time scores every two seconds if I'm not near a TV).

So it is with true competitive disgust that I report that last night's round of games seriously messed up my bracket! Ugh.

I am always the one rooting for the underdog, but not when there's a competition at stake. Let's just be honest, although it's an awesome accomplishment for you - Siena College, wherever you are - that you were able to pull out the victory against superpower Ohio State, I am not thrilled that your win cost me precious points.

And you, Cleveland State. I thought we had an agreement that you wouldn't pull any surprises by totally dominating Wake Forest. Thanks for - well ... nothing.

It's a good thing that my Michigan State Spartans totally killed it last night. Thank you for reminding me why I love you so dearly. And just one more thing ... if you would be so kind, could you please keep up the good work until you reach the Final Four? I took a huge risk in predicting you would get that far and I'd really appreciate you coming through for me. Please. And thank you.

Edited to add: The first true sign that I wasn't going to be a star athlete? It was around 1990. My dad was rounding up the troops to head out for my tee-ball game. I hopped in to the car and as my dad looked back to make sure I was properly dressed for the big game, he noticed something very wrong.

My shoes of choice to play baseball in were Jelly Bellies. Yes, the ones that were super cool in the 90s ... but definitely not appropriate for baseball, or any type of athletic event for that matter.

Frustrated (I'm sure), my dad ordered me to get out of our sweet Astro van, and back into the house to get tennis shoes on. So I did.

It wasn't until I got a hit (shocking.) that everyone noticed that I still hadn't gotten it right. I was struggling to shuffle to first base because I had brilliantly decided to put on tennis shoes ...

... with no laces.

My poor dad. He didn't get any sons and his two girls don't necessarily fit into the category of tomboy. It's a good thing his patience has paid off in the form of two grandsons :)