The Conspiracy, Conclusion: The Anti-Climax

I couldn't stop staring at the sheet.

Stupid Gonzaga.

9th place.

Stupid tiebreak.

I had a chance to win the whole thing.  But they weren't my picks.

Stupid dog.

"How long have you been staring at the results?"

Speak of the stupid devil.

"Seriously, how long are you going to look at that sheet?"

I ignored him.

"You brought this on yourself"

I had heard that before.

"If you weren't so damn competitive, none of this would have happened."

I put the sheet down.

"You know I'm right.  Stop caring so much about this pool.  And winning."

I turned to look at him.

"What now?  Another one of your snappy comebacks?"

I stayed silent

"How about words of wisdom?  Justify yet one more time why you put your heart and soul into March the way you do..."

I smiled.

"What's so funny?"

"I just realized I actually won this year"

Chewy was exasperated now.  "You won?  How's that?  You can't change the results--the pool mob will kill you."

"You really are a moron--even by dog standards.  I won because I was actually relevant until the championship game.  I was relevant during the championship game.  Sure, I didn't win any money but this has , by far, been my best year ever."

"But those were my picks."  Chewy was sounding desperate.

"And you put my name on them.  Best of all, you ran the entire pool for me this year.  I didn't even have to lift a finger.  I basically got a March Madness vacation with the added bonus of being in the race until the very end."

Then from Chewy, the coup de grace.  "But you lost."  His final, flailing attempt to get my goat one last time.

I snickered, shook my head, and walked away.  Seeing Chewy like that told me the only thing I needed to know.

I really had won.