We’re out of the February doldrums and into the only time when it’s socially acceptable to watch television for 96 consecutive hours of college basketball.

Yes, it’s that time of year again. You may even see a priest and a skateboarder in the King Memorial Commons, arguing the merits of Indiana State’s three-point shooting.

“Jesus, man, they can light ‘em up,” the skateboarder would yell.

“Son, don’t deny the heavenly delight of interior passing,” would be the religious retort.

Don’t worry, that’s no foreign language. They’re just talking about that silly ritual of 64 teams from across the nation vying with college-aged men to achieve ultimate dreams of greatness.

While some students will jet to exotic locales during spring break, people like myself are contemplating hours of lounging. Thankfully, that enables us to watch the CBS coverage of the men’s college basketball tournament called “March Madness” or “March Irritation with a Clear Family History” in political correctness-ese.

Right now, conference tournaments are in full swing, with a guaranteed spot in the tournament granted to the winner. Unfortunately, many teams fall a little short and rely on at-large bids. NIU remains floating in this boat until selections are announced Sunday evening.

I wouldn’t change any dinner reservations, NIU.

But that shouldn’t deter our community from enjoying 48 games in four days next week, with dramatic interruptions sprinkled throughout the telecasts.

That’s getting ahead of ourselves, though. The real fun comes when filling out the brackets.

For some reason, everyone from biology teachers to high school football stars fills those darn things out, with plenty of office-pool money thrown into the mix. This creates that lovely situation when the airhead wins the pot based on scientific selection based on mascot cuteness.

The big question, though, especially for the uninformed, is why? Aren’t these the same basketball games that are played throughout the season, from Chaminade to Connecticut? Yes and no.

Taken individually, the games are the usual ebbs and flows with the inevitable winner. But collectively, the tale becomes more complicated in an epic sort of way.

Cue the favorites, the underdogs, the overrated and the obscure. Prep the last-second shots, weird-looking players and unlikely heroes. Feel the wrath of strategic time outs, television breaks and annoying announcers. Wait, get over the bad and love the good.

More than any other sport, men’s college basketball brings out the best of sport and televised sport. While professional sports err on the side of polished punks (cough & NBA & rahumph), the tournament allows us to see the truly homely and lovable aspects that make sportswriters so giddy and prolific.

Take good ol’ Santa Clara, the darlings of the tournament just a scant few years ago.

Led by current pro Steve Nash, the team had deadly shooting and plenty of heart. It also had more pimples than an eighth grade band. I really loved that team.

But that’s just me. Some other people who clearly hate having fun pull for the favorites and the overrated. No one ever should consider themselves a true

Cincinatti fan, at least not without a smirk and need to be booted in the second round.

That’s the real beauty and one that can be revisited year after year. New players seek the ultimate goal in winning the nation’s crown while fans yearn for their team and their guys. Oh, if only I could do the Gonzaga dance all the way to the Final Four.

They’ll have to shoot the lights out and feed the big guy, though.