On March 19 the night before the Kansas Jayhawks played New Mexico State in the second round of the NCAA tournament, I called my dad, a longtime columnist for the Lawrence Journal-World, our hometown paper. He was not feeling optimistic. “It’s sick, it’s odious,” he said of being a KU fan. “If they play well, it’s a relief. If they play terribly, you’re disgusted. You hate it. It’s a curse. It’s no fun!” Well, what happens if they win the national championship? He said it would be like Woody Allen’s character in Hannah and Her Sisters when he finds out he doesn’t have cancer. He’d be elated for five minutes, then come to his senses and remind himself of the meaningless of existence.