DAYTON, Ohio — Here it comes. Here we go. Your brackets are filled out. Obama’s is filled out. You are ready today for March (and April) Madness, three maddening weeks that will captivate you, mesmerize you, take your breath away, three maddening weeks when 64 college basketball teams live for that “One Shining Moment” at the Georgia Dome, and we live and die with them every step of the way.
Three maddening weeks of survive and advance, in a tournament that has never appeared so difficult to survive: to the Sweet 16, to the Elite Eight, to the Final Four, to the top of the NCAA mountain.
Three maddening weeks of David fearlessly aiming his slingshot at Goliath, of Cinderella dancing over a shell-shocked top seed that never believed in fairy tales until it was time to pack its bags and go home.
The possibilities are why we watch, because impossible is nothing. The underdogs will steal our hearts, because they always do. How many of you imagined Butler reaching the championship game three years ago, and again two years ago, scaring holy hell out of Mike Krzyzewski’s Duke and Jim Calhoun’s UConn? The Anthony Davises and the Moe Harklesses are one and done now, so a great young coach like Brad Stevens can write a “Hoosiers” script for Butler, only this year it is Bucknell trying to be Butler. A great young coach like Shaka Smart can take VCU to a Final Four.
Is there a George Mason in the house?
This is that time of year when some pudgy 5-foot-9 walk-on or some coach’s son from, say, Valparaiso, can hit a once-in-a-lifetime buzzer-beater and grow up to coach the school. Right, Bryce Drew?
The time of the year when tears of joy and tears of sadness — March Sadness — so often flood the court simultaneously.
One of these years, a No. 16 seed will shock a No. 1 for the first time, maybe even this year. Southern over Gonzaga, anyone?
Our Iona Gaels think they can upset Ohio State tomorrow night. Why shouldn’t they? The baskets aren’t any higher than they are at the Hynes Athletic Center, are they? The court is the same size, right?
March Madness: The bands play and the cheerleaders cheer and students with painted faces go apoplectic in a Dick Vitale kind of way. The stakes are high, and the pressure cooker will make you or break you. It can be Christian Laettner hitting that turnaround in the 1992 East Regional final against Kentucky. It can be Georgetown’s Fred Brown passing the ball to North Carolina’s James Worthy at the end of the 1982 championship game. It can be Chris Webber calling a timeout Michigan’s Fab Five didn’t have against North Carolina with 11 seconds left. And Danny Ainge and Tyus Edney going coast-to-coast.
It can be a courageous Mateen Cleaves limping back onto the floor with a sprained ankle to lead Michigan State, with Magic Johnson in the stands, to the 2000 NCAA title over Florida. It can be Magic over Bird, Bill Walton’s 21-for-22. It can be a Kemba Walker willing his UConn Huskies to another championship. It can be a baby-faced Davidson assassin named Stephen Curry bombing Georgetown out in the second round in 2008.
It can be Rollie Massimino’s Villanova Wildcats playing the Perfect Game to slay Patrick Ewing and Georgetown one unforgettable Monday night in Lexington, Ky., in 1985. Or Lorenzo Charles jamming home Dereck Whittenburg’s desperation airball so Jim Valvano and N.C. State could shock Houston’s Phi Slama Jama 30 years ago.
Or perhaps you prefer Pete Carril’s Princeton Tigers backdooring defending champion UCLA to death in the first round in 1996. Or Vermont over Syracuse in 2005. Or Lehigh over Duke and Norfolk State over Missouri last year.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when Loyola Marymount’s Bo Kimble, who was right-handed, shot his first free throws left-handed all the way to the Elite Eight in tribute to teammate Hank Gathers, who had succumbed to a heart attack prior to the 1990 Tournament.
The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, on full display. The entire gamut of human emotions. Unsung heroes and overnight sensations. We don’t get to marvel at LeBron and the Heat around here. Thank hoop heaven we get this. The maddest and best three weeks in sports.
steve.serby@nypost.com