The March Ritual
Every March, something strange happens. People who barely glanced at college basketball all season are suddenly arguing about 12–5 upsets, researching mid-major schools they’d never heard of last week, and refreshing scores during meetings. Group chats fill with screenshots of brackets. Office printers spit out bracket sheets right after the Selection Sunday show ends.
At the center of all this is bracketology – the practice of predicting who gets into the NCAA tournament, how they’re seeded, and how the entire bracket will unfold. It has become more than a hobby. It’s a seasonal ritual, a shared obsession, and for a few chaotic weeks, almost a second language.
So why does this one tournament – and this one prediction game – get such a grip on so many people every year?
What Bracketology Really Means
In the simplest terms, bracketology is the study and practice of predicting the field and outcomes of elimination tournaments, especially the NCAA men’s and women’s basketball tournaments. It focuses on predicting who makes the tournament, what seed they get, and how the bracket will play out.
Originally, bracketology was mainly about who would be selected for the 68-team NCAA tournament and what seeds they would receive. It tries to anticipate how the selection committee will view teams using things like strength of schedule, quality wins, and modern evaluation tools.
Over time, the word has grown beyond that narrow meaning. Today, when most people say “bracketology,” they mean the whole ecosystem:
-
Predicting which teams get in
-
Guessing their seeds and regions
-
Filling out the full bracket from first round to national champion
-
Debating upsets, Cinderella runs, and “bracket busters”
It’s half statistics, half storytelling – and that mix is a big part of the addiction.
How It All Started
The idea of predicting tournament fields is as old as tournaments themselves, but the modern, named version of bracketology really took shape in the 1990s.
ESPN analyst Joe Lunardi is widely credited with popularizing the term and the practice. In the mid-90s he began publishing detailed bracket forecasts, trying to mirror the work of the real selection committee. Newspapers and TV shows started calling him a “bracketologist,” and the label stuck.
From there, bracketology exploded:
-
Lunardi started appearing regularly on TV with updated brackets.
-
Other networks and websites launched their own bracket experts.
-
Fans realized they could play the same game at home.
What began as a niche analytic exercise turned into a national pastime. Today, bracketology is so mainstream that universities have even offered courses on it, and “bracketologist” is a recognized role in sports media.
The Psychology Of Picking
Why does this particular prediction game pull people in so deeply? A big piece of the answer sits in basic human psychology.
Humans are wired to look for patterns and predict outcomes. It feels good to anticipate what will happen and then watch reality line up with our expectations. Bracketology gives us dozens of mini-predictions in a compact format: every game on that bracket is a small bet on the future.
Every correct pick, especially a bold upset, provides a little rush. It feels like proof that we saw something others didn’t – that we understood the game on a deeper level. That sense of “I called it” is incredibly rewarding, even if the stakes are just bragging rights in a small office pool.
On top of that, March Madness is single-elimination. Every game is decisive, and that makes every correct prediction feel meaningful. There are no long series to average out randomness – it’s one game, one chance, and you either nailed it or you didn’t.
The Illusion Of Control
Underneath the fun, bracketology also plays with a powerful psychological bias: the illusion of control.
The truth is that the NCAA tournament is wildly unpredictable. Upsets happen, injuries occur, players get hot or cold at the worst possible moment. Even highly respected analysts are nowhere near perfect. The mathematical odds of picking a perfect bracket are often estimated in the quintillions if you treat each game like a coin flip.
Despite that, most of us feel that if we:
-
Read enough previews
-
Study enough stats
-
Watch enough talk shows
…we can “beat the system.” Filling out a bracket turns chaos into a neat, printable diagram. It makes us feel like we’ve captured something that, in reality, no one fully controls.
That illusion is comforting. It’s also deeply addictive, because when it fails, we don’t tend to abandon it—we tell ourselves we’ll simply do better research next year.
Risk, Reward, And Near Misses
Another big driver of the addiction is the way bracketology balances risk and reward.
Pick all favorites, and your bracket feels safe – but it’s also boring, and you’re unlikely to separate yourself from the pack. Pick too many wild upsets, and you might be out of contention by Thursday night, but if just a few of those long shots hit, you look like a genius.
That mix tempts people into searching for the “perfect” level of risk every year. Psychological research shows that near misses can be unusually motivating. When someone comes close to a big win, they’re more likely to try again, convinced they can tweak their approach and finally get there.
Bracketology is full of near misses:
-
Being one game away from winning your pool
-
Missing the Final Four by a single upset
-
Watching one injury derail a bracket that was on pace to be special
Stories about people who came close to perfection – like fans whose brackets stayed perfect deep into the tournament – only fuel the belief that maybe, just maybe, we could do it too.
Bracketology As A Social Game
If bracketology were purely a solo math exercise, it wouldn’t have the same grip. What really supercharges it is the social layer.
Every March, tens of millions of people fill out brackets. Those brackets don’t stay private. They show up in:
-
Office pools
-
Friends’ group chats
-
Family competitions
-
Online communities
Suddenly, bracketology becomes a shared event. Co-workers who rarely talk have something in common to discuss. Friends who live far apart can still compete in the same pool. Parents compete against kids and lose to the 9-year-old who picked based on mascots.
The brackets are a social equalizer. You don’t need to be a hardcore basketball nerd to participate. Many people proudly use methods like:
-
Picking teams with colors they like
-
Choosing schools they have visited
-
Going with underdogs “just because it’s fun”
And every year, someone using one of these simple approaches outperforms the friend who spent hours digging into efficiency ratings. That unpredictability keeps the game light, funny, and human.
Data, Media, And Constant Hype
Modern bracketology lives in a world saturated with data and media, and that only adds to the pull.
TV networks and sports sites dedicate massive coverage to March Madness and bracket predictions. Analysts break down every potential matchup, debate the “last four in” and “first four out,” and update their projected brackets multiple times per week leading up to Selection Sunday.
Meanwhile, technology has made it incredibly easy to participate:
-
Online bracket platforms remember your picks, score them automatically, and give you live updates.
-
Simulators let you auto-generate brackets with one click.
-
Mobile apps send alerts every time a key result hits.
Data-driven models, advanced statistics, and even machine learning enter the mix as fans try to gain an edge—some people literally build predictive algorithms to improve their bracket odds.
But here’s the twist: even with all that firepower, the tournament stays chaotic. The fact that no one can fully solve it makes it feel like a puzzle that deserves to be revisited every year.
Living The Emotional Rollercoaster
Bracketology isn’t just an intellectual exercise. It’s emotional. The arc of March for a typical fan looks something like this:
Early March brings anticipation. People speculate about which teams will get in, which ones will be left out, and where their favorite school will land in the bracket. Selection Sunday arrives, and suddenly the blank bracket is real—names, seeds, regions, all there in ink.
The next phase is creation. You sit down to fill your bracket, making big calls:
-
Who’s your surprise Elite Eight team?
-
Which 12-seed is going to stun a 5-seed?
-
Are you riding a blue-blood favorite or trusting a new powerhouse?
Then the games start, and the emotions ramp up fast. Early upsets can make you feel brilliant or foolish within hours. A double-overtime buzzer-beater may simultaneously rescue one part of your bracket and destroy another.
Very few brackets remain truly competitive after the first weekend. By then, most people have accepted that their picks were flawed. Yet they still watch, cheer, and talk about their bracket. At that point, bracketology has done its job: it has pulled them into the story of the tournament.
Different Kinds Of Bracket Fans
Not everyone approaches bracketology the same way, and that variety keeps it interesting. You’ll often see a few recognizable “types”:
The Researcher
This person watches regular-season games, reads previews, and knows each team’s strengths and weaknesses. Their bracket is neatly reasoned and often impressive – right up until a random upset wrecks half of it.
The Story-Seeker
They love narratives: senior-led teams, small schools chasing a dream, programs overcoming adversity. Their picks are driven by emotion and storyline more than pure probability.
The Chaos Fan
This fan embraces the madness. They root for upsets even when it hurts their own bracket because chaos is the point. Their bracket might flame out early, but they’re smiling the whole way.
The Casual Coin-Flipper
They swear they don’t care, but they still check the standings. Their method might be truly random—or secretly based on team colors, mascots, or “vibes.” And at least once per pool, this person finishes near the top.
What’s striking is that any of these approaches can work in a given year. The tournament’s unpredictability means the bracketology “expert” and the casual picker are never that far apart in outcome, and that keeps everyone engaged.
Bracketology And The Workplace
One place where the impact of bracketology is especially visible is the workplace.
Every March, productivity studies come out trying to estimate how much time employees “lose” to March Madness and bracket tracking. Some analyses put the value of that time in the billions of dollars as people watch games, track scores, and manage their brackets during work hours.
But that’s only half the story. Other perspectives point out that shared bracket pools and game-watching can actually boost morale, engagement, and connection among co-workers. Employees often feel more relaxed and bonded when they have a fun, low-stakes competition to talk about for a few weeks.
For many organizations, the smart move isn’t to fight bracketology but to shape it:
-
Organize a friendly, low-cost office pool.
-
Allow casual score-checking during breaks.
-
Use it as an icebreaker between teams or departments.
Handled well, the ritual of bracketology can be a positive part of company culture instead of a pure distraction.
How To Enjoy Bracketology Healthily
Given how addictive bracketology can be, it’s helpful to approach it with a bit of perspective. A few simple habits can keep it fun and sustainable:
Accept that your bracket will break.
Even experts get crushed by upsets. The odds of a perfect bracket are astronomically low. The goal isn’t perfection; it’s participation and enjoyment.
Focus on stories, not just scores.
Let your bracket be a reason to learn about new teams, players, and schools. Lean into the narratives that make March Madness memorable.
Play with the right stakes.
Keep money pools small and friendly. The less financial pressure, the easier it is to laugh off a busted bracket and enjoy the chaos.
Limit the obsession.
It’s fine to follow the tournament closely, but if you find yourself stressed about games you would never normally care about, it might be time to step back and treat bracketology like the game it is.
Why We Always Come Back
Every year, after a particularly brutal upset or a bracket that fell apart in record time, people swear they’re done. And yet, when March rolls around again, they’re right back at it—pulling up projections, joining pools, and debating whether this is finally the year a low seed makes a deep run.
Bracketology is addictive because it sits at the intersection of so many powerful human drivers:
-
Prediction – the desire to see the future before it happens
-
Control – the feeling (even if illusory) that we can tame chaos with enough thought
-
Community – the joy of sharing a common game with millions of others
-
Storytelling – the drama of underdogs, dynasties, and unexpected heroes
It turns a basketball tournament into a shared national puzzle, one we don’t mind failing at as long as we get to try again next year.
