
Since its inception in 2001, the play-in game has been an annual source of anguish for fans, players and coaches, if for no other reason than it ruined the joke of calling the NIT champ the "65th best team in the country." Now every time you do it, some smart-ass guy says, "Don't you mean 66th?" God, we all hate that guy. However, we should be focusing our irritation at the play-in itself. The logic behind it is clear: let another team into the tournament. However, this game is not one of the NCAA 's better innovations, no mean feat for the people who gave us both the BCS and the inspiration for the film Blue Chips. The teams in the play-in game are generally the lowliest teams entering the tourney (tonight's participants, Monmouth and Hampton , are a combined 34-29), the most notable example being Oakland in 2005, which snuck in with an astounding record of 11-18 before winning the play-in. These teams are either surprise winners in small conferences or average teams pulled out of really tiny conferences. This year is no different. Oak Hill Academy would have a decent shot at knocking Monmouth and Hampton off. However, they shouldn't have to play an extra game just to get into the "real" tournament bracket. The mantra of the weeklong blitz of conference championships is "Win and you're in," but for some conferences it should be "Win and you're (sort of) in." To get into the tourney draw, these teams have done the one thing that's asked of them: win their conference titles. Now they've been relegated to a second-tier play-in game so the selection committee can accommodate some marginal bubble team from a big conference? That's insulting to the players and coaches who have worked so hard to get their teams into the tournament. This is the Big Dance, and they've been told that they're the back-up date in case a prettier girl can't go, but, hey, they've got great personalities! For most of these small-school players, getting to play in the NCAA tournament will be the unequivocal highlight of their basketball careers, and it's one that they've earned. When they get to tell their kids about playing in the tournament, they shouldn't have to add, "On a Tuesday..." under their breath. Imagine if your parents not only did not buy you that new bike for your birthday, but they also ran over your old one while you were riding it. That's about the closest I can get to how disappointing this must be. Even if you don't care about being fair to small-conference teams, I'll make an even more compelling argument in favor of rethinking the play-in game: It makes the tournament less fun to watch. The best part about the Madness is the first-round upsets. The truly memorable moments are the ones in which insane wins are pulled off by big underdogs -- that's why you don't just remember who Harold Arceneaux was, you also remember that his nickname was "The Show." It's why I still shout "COPPENRATH! SORRENTINE!" in my sleep. No upset will be more exciting than a 16 seed finally defeating a No. 1. (In case you'd forgotten, this has never happened. Don't worry, Jim Nantz will remind you every time the margin in one of these games dips below 25 points.) The great allure of the tournament is that truly anything can happen, however improbable it may be. The play-in game doesn't help these chances at all. So you've made a grueling run through your conference championship? You're ready to try to be the Cinderella who knocks off a top seed? Well, that doesn't sound difficult enough, so why don't you try doing it after playing an extra game so you'll be less rested than your first-round foe, arguably the best team in the country? Why not just make the kids play with weights around their necks? Wait, forget I said that -- you never know when Myles Brand is listening. The free-throw-shooting games at most carnivals are more fair than the current system. Finally, I don't want to get into math, but 64 is a "perfect" square, while 65 is divisible by 13. If I want bad luck in the tournament, I'll build a time machine and use it to bet against every highly seeded Cincinnati team of the last 15 years, thank you. Should the play-in game be eliminated altogether? The idea of sneaking an extra team into the tourney is still a good one if it can be done without punishing deserving smaller schools, so why not have the last two at-large teams taken off the bubble in the play-in game? After all, they're the ones who had an opportunity to win their conference tourney but didn't. These last few teams are usually deeply flawed major-conference squads whom no one really expects to advance very far. Sure, they can't play for a 16 seed, but have them scrap it out for a 10 or 11, which is usually where the last at-large teams end up anyway. If nothing else, this system is more equitable, and it would certainly boost the TV ratings for the play-in game; last year's play-in game was only watched by seven people, most of whom couldn't find the remote. The NCAA could take this slow expansion of the field to its logical end and just let every team into the tournament. The expanded tournament would still take roughly six months less than the NBA playoffs. The Sweet 16 could be replaced by the Wonderful 334. Filling out a bracket would take four days, 12 sheets of paper and a team of mules. Of course, there would be so many games that CBS would have to switch coverage to a different one every six seconds rather than every eight like it does now. Even better, we could just go back to the old field of 64 and give the Monmouths and Hamptons of the world the two extra days of March Madness that they've earned while sparing the rest of us from having to write, "The play-in game doesn't count, so just turn in your brackets by Thursday."
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