I'm no underdog

By Cinderella
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Look, I know I'm not the most attractive Disney creation, and I never had a Vera Wang dress to wear to the Prince's Ball, but I'm not exactly a hag, either. Have you seen my stepsisters, for example? Nasty, nasty wenches. By comparison, I like to think of myself as modestly cute.

That said, is it really SO surprising that I eventually hooked up with the Prince after the big night? I know I had a little help from the Fairy Godmother, but I'd probably equate my situation to an 11-seed beating a six in the NCAA Tournament. Sure, it wasn't expected, but was it totally out of the realm of possibility? No.

So here we are again, at the cusp of another tournament, and my name starts coming up on every ESPN and CBS broadcast. Somehow, I have become the poster child for underdogs everywhere -- specifically college basketball underdogs. Sure, I had a nice career in high school as an intramural point guard, but I've certainly never done enough on the basketball court for people to make this association.

Any way you slice it, I just don't want to be thought of as that girl overcoming unbelievable odds. Winning over the prince may have been unlikely, but not as unlikely as George Mason reaching the Final Four or Hampton beating Iowa State. All this Cinderella talk is like someone saying I'm the recipient of the Most Improved Player award. Did I really suck that much to begin with?

Pick somebody else to be the longshot. Everyone loves talking about David and Goliath, so why does that stop come tourney time? Maybe Davidson is this year's David, eh? What about the Patriots during the Revolutionary War? Broadcasters love Patriots, after all. Anybody ever heard of Hannibal (no, not the face-eater in Silence of the Lambs, you uncultured twits)? How about Robert the Bruce?

This probably has something to do with ESPN insisting on calling the 64-team tournament "The Big Dance," involving a series of punched dance tickets. Honestly, I haven't needed a ticket to go to a dance since I was in middle school, and if I did need one, they would probably have bar code scanners instead of hole-punchers. And why in a sport portraying masculine athletes do we need to name them after the girliest of girls? It's a pretty strange comparison, folks.

But whatever. I'm cheering for North Carolina this year (seriously, why are we even TALKING about Michael Beasley as Player of the Year? Get back to me if Kansas State gets into the Sweet 16), because nobody is going to call them Cinderella anytime soon.