John Wayne-Adams was shuffling papers, ensuring everything was in order, like a man possessed. As the head of referee coordination for this year's NCAA Men's Basketball Championship, he was buried in work, figuring out which refs would handle which games across all regions.
He had just sent out emails to 96 referees. The starting message?
Welcome to March Madness.
His assistant, Sierto Barry, hovered nearby like an overcaffeinated intern. "John, are you sure about this setup? You want those guys on the opening rounds?"
Adams didn't even look up. "Trust me on this, Sierto. The first round's chaos. Pure chaos. That's when the pressure's highest, and we need the big dogs from the power conferences. These guys don't fold just because some frat boy screams in their face."
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "You've seen it. Fans in March? They're different. We're talking parents, friends, students, locals, and yeah, even the degenerate gamblers. One call they don't like, they're chanting black whistle before the ref's even blown it. Not everyone can take that heat."
He paused, then added, "After the Round of 64, we'll evaluate who handled their business and go from there. I'll use the game footage and crowd audio to make sure we don't send anyone soft into a lion's den."
Also on his plate? Booking hotels, mapping travel itineraries, making sure refs had enough sleep, and didn't end up calling a Sweet Sixteen game running on two hours and gas station coffee.
"For the Final Four, we've got Curtis Shaw, Mike Stewart, and Les Jones," Adams muttered, checking one last note before flopping down onto the office couch. "Veterans. They won't blink in the spotlight."
He closed his eyes while rubbing them intensely.
"Coffee's not gonna save me today…"
..................
At a hotel in Houston, Syracuse guard Jonny Flynn was in a mood.
"Man, everyone's talking about North Carolina this, North Carolina that. I'm so sick of it."
His teammate Paul Harris tried to calm him down. "Chill, Jonny. I mean, they're the favorite for a reason. They're the No. 1 seed."
Flynn crumpled a March Madness poster in his hands. The headline read: Swords Drawn – All Eyes on North Carolina.
"Did they forget about our game? That six-overtime war against UConn? We bled for that game, man. Ain't no team tougher than us."
Paul gave a half-smile. That game was legendary. Six overtimes. Flynn had practically carried Syracuse on his back. NBA scouts took notice. But now?
They were seeded fifth. Fifth.
"And we're behind freaking Davidson?" Flynn scoffed. "You kidding me? What were the selection guys smoking?"
Paul tried again. "To be fair, Davidson's got a legit center this year…"
"Davidson, Davidson, Davidson. Screw that. Why's everyone so obsessed with Stephen Curry? I'll take him head-on. Let's see who's the real top guard in the country."
He shoved in his headphones and turned up the music.
......
Meanwhile, at the Arizona State hotel…
"James, are you seriously still staring at the bracket?" Assistant coach Pera raised an eyebrow at Harden, who was unusually quiet.
Since growing that beard, Harden had started carrying himself differently. Less goof, more grit. His teammates could feel the shift, especially after losing to DeRozan's squad in the conference finals.
"We might see Davidson in the Round of 32," Harden said quietly, eyes still fixed on the page.
Pera groaned. "James, really? Everyone's worried about UNC, and you're zoning in on Davidson?"
"Every game counts," Harden replied. "One step at a time. You don't look past anyone."
Pera chuckled, shaking his head. "You've always been the serious one. Alright then—beat Davidson first, then we can talk about pulling UNC off the throne."
Harden didn't say anything, but in his heart, he knew—Davidson wasn't a team to take lightly.
And UNC? Yeah… beating them was a whole other story.
......
Elsewhere, Blake Griffin was sitting in silence, deep in thought.
"Still thinking about that Davidson loss?" Coach Jeff Capel asked gently.
Blake looked up and shook his head. "Nah. I don't think losing to Davidson was a bad thing."
Capel blinked. "Wait—you don't?"
Griffin nodded slowly. "It showed me something. One guy can't win it all. Doesn't matter how good you are."
Kapoor smiled. "That's right. Even Jordan needed Pippen. Basketball's a team game."
Blake's eyes lit up with quiet fire. "Then I'll play the right way next game. Follow your game plan to the letter."
He glanced back at the bracket. "We're gonna meet UNC in the Sweet 16, right?"
Kapoor nodded. "Yep. That's the mountain. But Blake… I believe you can climb it."
Blake didn't answer.
He didn't say it out loud, but the competition wasn't lost on him. There were a lot of great players this year.
.........
Back in the Western Division, someone else was quietly thinking.
"Lucky break, huh, DeMar?" a teammate said, smirking. "Heard James Harden got sent to the Southern Region. Poor guy."
DeRozan didn't answer. He just kept listening to his music.
Honestly? He didn't think Harden was unlucky.
DeRozan didn't see himself as better—his team was better. That was the difference.
They'd probably have to face UNC, though. No joke. Odds on Carolina winning it all were 1.3 to 1.
"Still can't believe Davidson got the 2-seed," the teammate continued. "Most of their roster wouldn't even make a D-League team. Total joke."
Davidson…
DeRozan remembered watching them play once. Yeah, they had lost to Arizona State.
But still…
Second seed or not, who knows what'll happen out there?
.......
PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW AND SOME STONES.