You know, every year around this time, my focus splits in a funny way. On one hand, I’m glued to the early preseason games in basketball, analyzing every play. Just the other day, I was watching the Meralco Bolts gear up; they lost to Converge, 109-103, in a game that was all about testing strategies and player chemistry before they headed off to Ilagan City. It’s a process, right? Figuring out what works, what doesn’t, and building from there. And on the other hand, my mind starts drifting to the absolute chaos and beauty of building the perfect NCAA March Madness bracket. It strikes me that the approach isn’t all that different. Whether it’s a basketball team in its preseason or us fans with a blank bracket, we’re all in the business of prediction, strategy, and embracing a beautiful amount of uncertainty.
So, how do you build a bracket that has a fighting chance, or at least one that won’t be completely busted by the end of the first weekend? Let me tell you, after years of winning office pools and, more often, spectacularly failing at them, I’ve settled on a philosophy. It’s less about picking every game perfectly—that’s a fool’s errand, statistically speaking—and more about constructing a narrative that can survive the tournament’s inherent madness. Think of it like Meralco’s coaching staff. That 109-103 loss to Converge wasn’t about the final score; it was about seeing which lineups clicked under pressure, which young player stepped up, and what adjustments needed to be made for the real games. Your bracket’s preseason is the week leading up to Selection Sunday. You’re scouting, you’re gathering intel, and you’re looking for those subtle hints.
First, you absolutely must respect the data, but don’t be enslaved by it. I always start with the numbers: KenPom ratings, NET rankings, offensive and defensive efficiency stats. These give you the skeleton. For instance, I might note that historically, a team ranked in the top 20 in defensive efficiency has a 73% chance (I’m making that number up, but it feels right) of making the Sweet Sixteen, even if they’re a lower seed. That’s your foundation. But here’s where the art comes in. Look for the “Converge” in the tournament—those pesky, lower-seeded teams that play a frenetic, unconventional style. They’re the ones who can throw a wrench into everything, just like an unpredictable preseason opponent can expose a favorite’s weaknesses. Last year, I picked a 12-seed to upset a 5-seed not because the stats overwhelmingly favored it, but because I’d watched them play a chaotic, full-court press that I knew would give a more methodical team fits. It worked. That’s the preseason scouting paying off.
Now, the single most important decision in your bracket is picking the champion. I work backwards from there. I don’t just pick my favorite team; I pick a team whose path I can realistically visualize. I ask myself: “Can this team win six different types of games in a row?” They might need to blow out a mid-major, grind out a defensive battle against a physical Big Ten team, and then outscore a high-octane offensive juggernaut. If I can’t see them navigating at least three distinct styles, I look elsewhere. It’s like judging Meralco after that preseason game. The loss itself isn’t fatal, but did they show the versatility to adjust? If a championship contender has a glaring weakness—say, terrible free-throw shooting—that’s a red flag that will get exposed under the bright lights, no matter how good their preseason record looks.
Then comes the fun part: the upsets. My golden rule is to pick some, but don’t get greedy. I typically pick two first-round upsets by double-digit seeds (think 12 over 5, or 13 over 4), and maybe one crazy one in the second round. But crucially, I rarely let those Cinderella teams go past the Sweet Sixteen. The magic usually runs out. I pencil them in for a glorious win or two, then have them fall to a more balanced, battle-tested power. This creates a bracket that has the thrilling upsets everyone loves but maintains a core of logic. It’s about controlled chaos. You want your bracket to have personality, a story. Maybe you’re the person who believed in that gritty mid-major from the start. That’s more rewarding than just picking all the favorites.
Finally, embrace the fact that you will be wrong. Gloriously, hilariously wrong about something. Last year, I had a Final Four team losing in the first round. It happens! The beauty of the tournament is its unpredictability. That 109-103 game for Meralco? It’s a data point, not the definitive story. Similarly, one shocking buzzer-beater can obliterate the “perfect” bracket. So, after I’ve applied all my logic, my stats, and my gut feelings, I do one last thing: I make one purely emotional pick. Maybe it’s my alma mater, or a team with a player I adore watching. That pick is for my heart. The rest are for my head. In the end, building the perfect bracket isn’t about perfection at all. It’s about crafting a document full of hope, strategy, and a little bit of reckless faith—a story you get to watch unfold, one chaotic, wonderful game at a time. Just remember to enjoy the preseason research, but be ready for the main event to rewrite your script entirely.
