Mike O'Connell

Saturday evening I was counting the money in my head. No, in my hand. It was there in my hand. Virginia, North Carolina, Notre Dame, Syracuse, Oklahoma. I was imagining how I’d use that office pool money. Something silly? Something useful? Who cares… it’s all about bragging rights anyway, because still I’d do it if the prize were a stick of gum.

My presumptive victory lasted about 45 minutes Saturday night until the Kansas-Villanova game began. Two classic choking teams and I picked the wrong one.

Easy come, easy go.

It was in this spirit, not caring about money and bragging rights, that I watched my beloved childhood basketball team, the Syracuse Orange (in my day they were the Orangemen), complete the most unlikely Final Four run in a decade. Heaven can wait.

And there I found the true meaning of Christmas.

Er, March Madness.

For my money President Obama’s trip to Cuba this week—the first such trip by a sitting U.S. president in nearly 90 years—is an empty gesture at best and an embarrassment at worst. Would someone please get me a president who does not begin foreign visits by explaining how rotten our country is and why we have no business criticizing others.

I think all restrictions on travel and trade between the United States and Cuba should have ended decades ago, if ever put into effect at all. One of the nice things about free trade is that you don’t really have to like the people you’re trading with. You’ve got something they want, they’ve got something you want, and you leave politics, religion, and the Great Pumpkin out of it.

The Brothers Castro, who are now laughing at their 11th consecutive U.S. president, run a prison. It’s not a utopia, it’s not a workers’ paradise, it’s not a communist dreamland. It’s a place where people are literally dying to get out.

If the good citizens of Cuba want to make cheap products for me to buy, I’d let them. If they want to offer me vacation rentals, I’d let them. I wouldn’t pretend it’s a pleasant place any more than some other Third World country that might have a nice beach.

I’m ready for a U.S. president to say our nation’s laws and customs are morally superior to those of our trading partners, but that’s okay because we’re also less petty and juvenile.

And I’m staying at Resort de Trump Havana when it opens.

When the first real day of the NCAA Tournament falls on St. Patrick’s Day you can be pretty sure very little work is getting done after about noon.

Topped only by the lack of work done the next day before noon.

I think the world of sports could take a cue from the world of politics (never thought I’d say that) and offer write-in ballots to our NCAA Tournament brackets.

I’m writing in Monmouth as the #11 seed in the South over Wichita St. and Vanderbilt, hoping for a brokered convention when those delegates are counted.

Dear Monmouth Hawks:

I sincerely apologize. That was me jinxing you the other night and I was wrong. Please accept my concession.

Dear Syracuse Orange (nee Orangemen, team of my youth):

If you do not win this afternoon I think Monmouth’s got your at-large bid in the NCAA Tournament.

And I’ll be fine with that.