I could have become a professional basketball player if not for my inability to score baskets.

And my inability to fake that I’ve broken an arm if I barely brush another player. And my inability to take pratfalls.

And, if you want to get technical about it, because you could peg my height somewhere between James Madison and Napoleon. That’s if you’re being generous.

On a normal day, some of these things are more important than others. But as it is basketball season, all of them are essential, all the time.

Some people don’t get what all the fuss is about. They don’t understand what charm there is in a sport whose origins lie in lobbing a leather ball into a fruit basket.

These people neglect the joyous bonding experience that basketball is.

On a cold winter day, there’s no better way to warm up and increase your heart rate than racing your family to the television and chucking your sister off the couch if she gets there first.

Of course, in my family, everyone supports different teams.

When things get heated, the men throw hard words at each other, and the ladies throw gardening implements.

In those situations, the only joyous bonding I do is with the floor.

As hedge clippers and pruning shears whistle overhead, I have a lot of time to think and jot down a winning bracket.

If I were in the big leagues, as I ought to be, I’d always put my team on top.

But as the NBA has not extended me any offers (for reasons I cannot fathom, because once in fourth grade, I beat the teacher in Knockout), I have to be more discerning.

I speak with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a gal who has previously lost a ridiculous amount of money to her sister on basketball bets and now writes for newspapers to prevent other people from losing ridiculous amounts of money to their sisters on basketball bets.

Writing a perfect NCAA Tournament bracket is a mixture of art and science.

Sure, you do your research on the teams and factor in interviews with the athletes and mark down anybody who says that this season is going to be the greatest yet. That’s one part of it.

But then you have to confirm that the players are wearing their lucky socks and that their mothers are attending the games.

While you’re at it, it’s best to read the entrails of a goat, just to be sure.

If all the signs are there, that’s when you know you’ve written a perfect bracket.

What Newton felt when he discovered gravity is probably a fraction of what you feel when you accomplish that.

Then, to maximize your team’s chances of victory, it is essential to channel moral support through the television.

This can be accomplished by yelling loud enough to be heard in surrounding states, because if your team can’t hear you cheering, those slackers will miss any free throw they’re inept enough to get.

But you know how it ends. During a pivotal game, some freshman who’s been questionable all season suddenly becomes the next Michael Jordan.

Or someone who is, well, you know — I am not naming names here, since everyone in basketball is bigger and stronger than me — plays like a rookie.

Poof! There goes the bank account.

Alexandra Paskhaver is a software engineer and writer. Both jobs require knowing where to stick semicolons, but she’s never quite; figured; it; out. For more information, check out her website at https://apaskhaver.github.io.