Keep it in the Family

The man in the black pajamas.

Dan Dan-O McClure, a mystery to many of you but a proud Jayhawk from way back nonetheless, joins Kevin C. Wilson as the only two league members to achieve the quinquennial.

That’s five times more titles than the combined total of the River Forest Clown Show, Rusty Kuby and Ron Dardis. Neither of them paid this year, by the way.

Bums.

Dan-O rode Florida. Always has. He won it with them in 2006, 2007 and again this year. He also always wins it with the correct pick of the champion. Florida those three times and also Duke in 2010 and Baylor in 2021.

This year’s 97-point winning total obliterates the previous high mark of 84, posted in 2012 by Kevin C. This was a year for the pussies. But actually Dan-O’s bracket wasn’t the chalkiest. His combined predicted seed total of 18 for the Elite 8 was the highest of anyone in contention heading into the championship.

Every league participant picked a 1 seed to win this year, another first. Incidentally, KC Dubbs has picked a 1 seed to win for 22 consecutive tournaments. It would be 23 had Woo and the carpet pissers not interfered in 2020.

Steady was Dan-O’s approach this year. He led after round one, tied for third highest point total in round two, tied for fourth highest in the Sweet 16, tied for third highest in the Elite 8, tied for highest in the Final Four and then was one of three (Kienlen and Clark) to pick the champ.

Dan-O had three of his Final Fours, six of his Elite 8, and 11 of his Sweet 16. Numbers like no one has ever seen before. Nobody’s ever seen anything like this. Believe me. Terrific guy.

Let’s take a look at how we did.

Dan: 97
Pete: 89
Brennan: 88
Matt: 88
Kevin: 87
Sam: 84
Rusty: 81
Jon: 80
Joe: 77
Brad: 75
Clark: 75
Ryan: 72
Trevor: 71
Marc: 67

There you have it. That’s $1,540 in career earnings for Dan-O. He’s eyeing property in River Forest. Those rich fucks.

Salud,

Commissioner Sheforgen

New shit has come to light.

Ron Kuby went to KU.

You’ll remember Ron’s reference, of course, from the police station in Malibu.

And it’s true that he’s a Jayhawk. He attended in the mid-70s. Studied cultural anthropolgy and history.

Occupied Strong Hall and other various administration buildings. 

Reportedly smoked a lot of Thai sticks.

All of that, along with conclusive photo evidence, is adding up to suggest that it was Ron’s load, and not Bill Kuntzler’s as so many had speculated, that fertilized the egg that would become Rusty Gundrum.

Is he really Rusty’s father? Well, dude, we just don’t know. But you tell me.

The real Ron Kuby. A KU grad. And Rusty’s father.

Rusty says that ain’t his old man. But you’d have to be a real reactionary to fall for that line of bullshit. Rusty’s eye for talent and truth has faded, I’m afraid. Faded real bad.

He was caught on wire in mid-February talking a whole lot of incriminating nonsense about Self being on the verge of leaving KU, with innuendos that maybe it was time.

The kind of shit that ain’t gonna impress daddy Ron any.

The kind of shit we never would have heard from Rusty before he was hit by the car, with his brains left scrambled.

Rusty was so gifted. But ultimately, it’s this kind of idiocy (his Kuby bloodlines notwithstanding) that’s prevented him from winning a single title. Only the other Ron, a league charter member, has been searching longer. The River Forest clown show continues.

Even Likens has a banner* now.

Let that sink in.

Without the use of Ron Kuby’s lineage, here are the ones who went out and achieved anyway:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 Jon Heinz
2019 Kevin C. Wilson
2021 Dan McClure
2022 Marc Sheforgen
2023 Kevin C. Wilson
2024 Brad Likens*

League dues are $35. Please send via Venmo to @Marc-Sheforgen. Picks go here. League password remains 1609. If you need to reach me, my new email address is marc@thewordshef.com. My phone is 785-342-2067.

Likens was the first to submit his bracket this year. Though you’d have to be a complete asshole to think he’s learned his lesson, or any lesson.

You don’t draw shit in this town, Brad.

Regards,

Commissioner Sheforgen

“Bullshit, Brad.” Anyone who knew Likens knows that his time in Lawrence was punctuated by visits from Mommy and Tommy. They’d arrive unannounced. Sort his clothes. Make his bed. Shit, his Mom once blasted into Cullen’s room with a vacuum as he and his ladyfriend lay nude. She didn’t give a fuck. And Tom, while a man of few words, was partial to one that starts with the letter “N,” as well as an oft-uttered phrase surely created out of necessity. “Bullshit, Brad.” And boy, was he spot-on.

Thursday, March 21. 10:30 a.m.
A High Holiday. The scene is set. We’re mere minutes from the start of another glorious tournament, and what do you know, Likens hasn’t turned in his bracket. Commissioner Sheforgen will have to take time out of his busy workday to track the motherfucker down. He calls three times. Nothing. He texts three more times. Crickets. Unimpressed but also unabashed, he calls Brad’s secretary, who has no information regarding Brad’s whereabouts. She chuckles audibly when Commissioner Sheforgen asks, “is it normal for him to be this late?”

Likens returns Shef’s call at 11:08 am. Says he just woke up. Can’t access the bracket. Says he never saw an email. Shef confirms that the address to which the invite was sent is in fact Brad’s primary and active account. Shef asks if he’s visited the website that has chronicled 20+ years of beautiful tradition. The instructions are right there; they always have been. Likens is ignorant and genuinely unfamiliar. The first game has already tipped, you guys.

Commissioner Sheforgen, understandably, breaks it down like only he and Uncle Junior know how. Tells Likens that while he’s loved, he behaves like a selfish, unaware, sociopathic, entitled cunt. And Commissioner Sheforgen is not wrong. 

What else can we say besides “what in the actual hell is wrong with the rest of us?” Because this cunt, this unaware, sociopathic, entitled cunt has hung a banner. Granted, Mommy and/or Tommy filled out the bracket but, nevertheless, the motherfucker has (on paper) won the 2024 KIITF Bracket Challenge.

HE DOESN’T EVEN READ THE FAMILY LITERATURE.

And before anybody starts up, sanctions were rendered. Sanctions were most definitely rendered. Likens received no credit for the Michigan St vs Mississippi St matchup or any associated advancement thereafter. But is it enough? So hard to really say. And so hard to digest… like that piece of gum you swallowed when you were 9 years old. It’s just gonna sit there, you guys… festering like an open sore.

And so it goes. We must look inward. But, to be completely forthright, at least every charter member (besides Brad) can claim a legitimate title… oh, Brad and Rybo, that is. What’s his major malfunction? He sells solutions, but does he even know what they are? Or how to apply them to a real life situation? The question is rhetorical, of course. Please.

Disgusted and disgruntled, we turn our eyes toward the rafters to acknowledge past champions. Past champions plus one fucking asshole whose title will forever be accompanied by an asterisk.

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 Jon Heinz
2019 Kevin C. Wilson
2021 Dan McClure
2022 Marc Sheforgen
2023 Kevin C. Wilson
2024 Brad Likens*

“Bullshit, Brad.” Total fucking bullshit.

The year was 1998. And the town of Lawrence was still reeling. Not from Quantrill and his band of racist raiders. But from a gang of ruffians every bit as motley. Lawrence investigators were being stretched thin. They had ‘em working in shifts.

Heinz staged an armed robbery, fooling the authorities into thinking he was mugged and relieved of his pizza-delivery cash. Ever the Robin Hood, he used the fraudulent proceeds to pay outstanding rent and avoid eviction.

Rybo claimed his golf clubs had been stolen from the airport baggage claim conveyor after a return flight. He threw a fit and demanded answers from American Airlines. The clubs were gone alright – secure in the back of Hanz’s Honda Accord. The two of them split the insurance claim money.

Cullen was involved in a doctor’s note forgery scheme so elaborate – and effective – that his would-be unexcused absences numbered in the hundreds.

I faked an anxiety attack in a large lecture hall when I realized, upon receiving my final exam and surveying the questions, that I had no chance of passing. The performance was so elaborate that the professor’s eyes welled with tears of empathy. I secured the answers to the test, returned the following day and calmly posted a 96.

I could go on. To name the crises narrowly averted of just Jon David Heinz alone would take longer than it did to build the Brooklyn Bridge.

Look, stability has never been our family’s calling card. It’s time we introduce some maturity into our ranks. And we don’t have to look far to find it.

A man who’s belonged from the beginning.

A man they call PK – like Subban, only much whiter.

A man with a laugh so genuine and contagious that it can transform a room – like Conan O’Brien, only much shorter.

Raised in the hood on Medinah’s No. 3, he’s a man with both grace and grit. A social chameleon who can operate comfortably among the fraternal organizations of West Campus Road and the degenerate drug houses of Vermont Street. Like Ryan Dardis, his longtime lover.

I give you the both great and diminutive Pete Kienlen.

Not since Likens forgot to wear a condom has there been an oversight as egregious as Kienlen not being involved here. Welcome home.

That brings us to 14 nominated, vetted and forever worthy lifetime members. With our $35 entry fee and winner-take-all format, it means 13 of us will be vying for a $490 pot this year. Rybo is not a threat. He remains and shall remain the only league charter member without a single title.

Those judging him from on high include:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 Jon Heinz
2019 Kevin C. Wilson
2021 Dan McClure
2022 Marc Sheforgen
2023 Kevin C. Wilson

Challenges met. Competitors bested. Obstacles overcome.

Cash can come to me via Venmo at @Marc-Sheforgen.

Picks, due by first tip Thursday, go here. League password remains 1609.

Aitz chaim he, Dude, as the ex used to say,

Commissioner Sheforgen

Rusty went to Costa Rica.

Rybo to Italy.

Yes, during the tourney.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that they’ve lost their way. And if you love ’em like I do, you’re concerned. Combined, the two of them have zero championships.

How did KC Dubbs spend his Spring Break? In his basement, like a real family man.

And that, folks, is why he’s our first five-time Keep it in the Family champ. He’s won a quarter of our 20 contests, meaning he’s doing the work of three men plus Likens.

It’s about commitment, passion and onions. Some guys just aren’t made of the real stuff. But nobody can ever doubt the quality of character of Kevin C. Wilson. He’s a man’s man.

By the way, I also have a trip to Italy planned. But not during the fucking tournament. I’m not a jackass. Rather, I’m the 2022 champion.

This one was crazier than any we’ve yet seen with our lowest-ever winning score. Clark was the only one of us to correctly pick a Final Four entry with San Diego State. That’s it. Just the one. C-Note finished tied for third, held back by the work ethic of his millennial generation. Like so many his age, he doesn’t want to put forth the effort until the lights are shining their brightest. Sure, he turned it on in the Elite Eight when he finally got the attention he craved. But where was he through the first three rounds? You’ve got to work when nobody’s watching, Clark. Someday you’ll learn. It’s a matter of maturity.

Speaking of losers, let’s separate the haves from the have-nots after 20 years of beautiful tradition:

Kevin C. Wilson = 5 championships
Dan McClure = 4 championships
Matt Cullen = 3 championships
Jon Heinz = 2 championships
Trevor Schmidt = 2 championships
Brennan Hitpas = 2 championships
Joe Fernandez = 1 championship
Marc Sheforgen = 1 championship

Rusty Gundrum = 0 championships
Clark Wildenradt = 0 championships
Brad Likens = 0 championships
Ryan Dardis = 0 championships
Sam Osborne = 0 championships

Sammy rebounded quite well from the depths of disaster. You’ll remember that he failed to submit a bracket last year. This year, Sam charged hard. But karma struck him down, keeping him two points shy of his first-ever title. According to the gods, his penance still carries a balance. It’ll likely be a couple more decades before his sins are absolved.

Here’s our final tally:

Kevin = 55
Sam = 53
Jon = 50
Clark = 50
Matt = 50
Brad = 46
Brennan = 43
Dan = 43
Joe = 42
Trevor = 42
Ryan = 41
Rusty = 38
Marc = 38

As you know, we’re back with CBS. We only left out of loyalty to Rusty, who took a job with Yahoo. Well, Rusty got shit-canned a few weeks back (T&P for him), so we stand in solidarity in our defiance of Yahoo. CBS always was so much better anyway. Not sure what Rusty ever saw in those other assholes.

Adios, muchachos.

Commissioner Sheforgen

“Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty we are free at last.”

The Jayhawk flies again. Caged and grounded no more.

And soaring alongside, flying so close to the sun as if to be burned like Iccaurs, is league charter member and newest champion Marc Sheforgen. His days, weeks, years of anguish and suffering vanquished right alongside those of his beloved Jayhawks.

Peering up from the ground — staring in envy through a very expensive pair of sunglasses, his well-coiffed hair gently lapping against the collar of his goose-down vest like waves from his pool of tears — is the lone remaining charter member without a title, Ryan Dardis. Thoughts and prayers are surely appreciated. “A little T&P? Hanzen?”

To quote the once great Hanssierre, “You doubted me, and now I’m here.”

To quote the even greater late Kansas City blues legend Little Hatch, “Can’t nobody touch me.”

Once you’re in the rafters, Rybo, you’re there forever. You should see the view from up here. And the feeling. It’s, well, nearly indescribable. Like floating on a cloud of titties.

From the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, we turn to the rather delicate, unfortunate and downright disgusting matter of Sam Osborne. Our newest league member finds himself on double-secret probation after only one year of competition. Before now, we had 20 years of beautiful rhythm, not to mention tradition. Never once did a competitor fail to submit his bracket. Never once.

There have been some close calls, sure. The time in 2017 when Dardis delivered his picks by telephone from the tarmac of the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. He was embarking on a golf trip, you guys. Yes, during the tournament. Any wonder why he’s never won one? Still, even Ron has always delivered on time.

There was the matter in 2015 when Likens submitted his picks before the first TV timeout of the tournament’s first game, with the score still tied. He later admitted that he thought March Madness started in April. He too is in search of his first title.

And then, like poison to the well, we brought in Sammy the Snake. It took him only two years to sour a lifetime’s worth of work. No bracket submitted this year. Couldn’t get organized in time was the limp excuse offered. Not even sure how to process that, except to say this: Please accept this as a straight-up display of disrespect to you and your family. Sammy, it seems, doesn’t much care how you and yours feel. But, you know, he says “hi.”

One can only imagine the shame and humiliation of his sponsor, Matt Cullen. Nobody loves our competition more than Cullen, a three-time champion. To now have his character questioned by association — it’s gotta be tough, you guys. T&P for him as well.

As best he tried, Sammy can’t ruin our good time. Won’t let him. Fuck the tournament? No, more like “fuck yourself.”

Here’s what he missed:

Marc: 72
Rusty: 60
Clark: 58
Trevor: 58
Kevin: 56
Brad: 56
Matt: 50
Ryan: 50
Dan: 49
Jon: 47
Brennan: 45
Joe: 33
Sam: -0

It’s the largest spread between first and second our league has ever seen. Some are calling it the greatest bracket ever submitted. One guy referred to it as a “golden bracket.” Another muttered, “Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.” Sam didn’t say a thing. Not even the courtesy of a reach-around.

Ever thus, Sam.

Rock Chalk!!

-Commissioner Sheforgen

“Don’t worry about the mules, just load the wagon.” – Bill Self, Sr.

Cullen and I are en route to Vegas. First and second rounds. Unabashed. Unbuckled. Undaunted. Eyeball to eyeball.

Worried about us?

Don’t be.

Nevermind the mules.

Plow ahead. Charge hard. And don’t let anybody – not nobody! – keep you from your war room dreams. Lest we forget, the high holidays are upon us.

Spoiler Alert!

Gonzaga falls early. Eye test results came back as “flaccid and Hanz-like.”

Gonzaga falls early. Eye test results came back as “flaccid and Hanz-like.”

Texas Tech also finds themselves on notice after test results revealed traces of “lesbian and Likens.”

Rent’s going up another $5 as we work closer to our stated goal of a $1,000,000 winner-take-all payout. It happens every seventh year. Message me individually with any objections or hardship cases. Your identity will be protected. Last time the issue was raised, we had only one nay vote, cast privately (Likens).

That brings us to $35 per and a jackpot of $455.

A little hurried this year, but the deadline remains Thursday morning pre-tip, pendejo. We will cut off your johnson.

Please join me in prayer as we recognize those who can stroke it from deep:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 Jon Heinz
2019 Kevin C. Wilson
2020 The Chinaman
2021 Dan McClure
2022 ???????????

Searching the longest, like a child who wanders into the middle of a movie, are charter members Ryan Dardis and yours truly. Never a night’s rest as we look for answers.

Send it in with password 1609.

Best,

Commissioner Sheforgen

Apologies for the delay here. No disrespect meant to our champion Dan “Dan-O” McClure and his looking back at competitors bested.

Been in and out of cabs and conference rooms all day, guys. Bought a new golden retriever. Plus, you know, COVID.

But the real reason for the results delay was pending litigation regarding an ill-timed garnishment. What I’d hoped would be a joyous announcement of our generous contribution to the necessary means for necessary means for the lesser privileged is instead a warsh.

The mistake of making our $13 check out to the lone beneficiary by name, Jon Heinz, rather than to the organization at large, the Old Shakopee AOR Foundation, proved costly.

And the fight remains a lonely one, I’m sure.

Dan did it how Dan’s always done it. Real steady-like and then with a correct pick of the champ. He did it with Duke in 2010. And again with the ol’ Florida fuck you in 2006 and 2007. From ‘06 to ‘10, there wasn’t a load hotter than Dangerous Dan McClure’s.

Except for Coach’s.

It took Dan eight years to earn his first three titles but another 11 to notch number four. He joins Kevin Wilson as the only other quaderurangular. The win takes Dan over $1K ($1,038) in career earnings.

The Man in the Black Pajamas. The St. Louis Slammer. The Chattanooga Chugger. Steely Dan. He’s answered to them all.

Just don’t call him Also Ran. That’s a name best reserved for yours truly and Robot Ron, the charlatan of our sister organization the Player Draft. We remain the only two charter members still in search of a title.

Dan was the only one to pick the champ, Baylor. And that’s what did it. It all came down to the final night. Trevor had a one point lead and Gonzaga to win it all. Dan hadn’t been in first since he was tied at 25 after round one. Still, he lurked within striking distance throughout. And then he was the only one to pick the second overall seed to win it.

Only Trevor picked three of the Final Four correctly. He comes up just five points shy of his third title (‘09, ‘17).

Not since that Roman asshole forgot to close the Kerkoporta Gate at Constantinople has there been a greater oversight than not including Sam Osborne in our annual family gathering.

Sammy’s long loved the saps.

He was the neighborhood bookmaker when so many of us first fell victim to the hopes and charms of sweet, hot action.

He was the neighborhood barkeep when Heinz took his first sips of Long Island Iced Tea, the same halcyon afternoons blamed by many for his early-onset condition. And Sam’s now elbow-deep in hand-mixed batches of ancient herbal remedies sold to housewives.

He should do well here if he can just learn to pick his way out of a paper bag. He finished 11th.

A long overdue welcome to Sammy, a most worthy adversary.

Here’s what went down:

Dan: 78
Trevor: 73
Jon: 66
Marc: 65
Joe: 63
Kevin: 61
Clark: 61
Ryan: 60
Matt: 56
Brennan: 54
Sam: 52
Brad: 45
Rusty: 44

Bless you, Jon. Congratulations, Dan. And a warm goodnight to you all.

Humbly yours,

Commissioner Sheforgen

It’s been one hell of a year, man. You know that. Two years, in fact, since we’ve convened, you guys. That’s like 700 some odd days… I’d have to do the math.

While Covid has left 500,000 dead U.S. bodies in its wake, perhaps you’ve missed, in Paul Harvey’s words, “the rest of the story.” Blame it on blue light, the Chinaman, or Zoom fatigue; any way you slice it, folks are still feeling it. There’s another byproduct of the pandemic, and it’s called AOR. No, not that smoking hot, sassy, oh-so-brown congresslady from New York. I’m talking about Adult Onset Retardation, you guys, and one of our own is suffering.

I first met Jon Heinz in freshman Algebra class. His stringy, greasy mullet glistened as it reflected the cheap fluorescent lighting and he gnawed on his pen like a piece of beef jerky. He had a nice pair of Jordan VI’s, however, he’d removed them,  exposing his ill-fitting tube socks that hung from his size 13 feetus like a pair of pre-blown birthday balloons. And despite the warning on signs in 80% of establishments across the country, he was still receiving service from the public school system.

There was no doubt this kid was special. Thing is, he was actually rather charming, funny, and by no means a dummy. Often the author of keen observations, witticisms, and the like, his company was welcome, even sought. You didn’t need a plan to hang with Heinz. You’d just hang, and the rest was pure magic… self-generated humor and spontaneous human interaction, reading, reacting… no pre-meditated nonsense. Just like Coach Allen drew it up.

Well, things changed in 2020.

Per the latest edition of the Physician’s Desk Reference:

AOR (Adult Onset Retardation) is punctuated by two major symptoms:

1. Consumption and dissemination of digital trash.

Now a grown man, Jon Heinz, like most, would rather text than talk. The problem is the content, you guys. It’s been years since we accepted his use of “LOL” in lieu of punctuation. Winners adjust, after all… but let’s just examine a typical piece of content that Jon has consumed, and persistently disseminated, in the year 2020:

Guy rides in car with gumbo, without top

So, here we have a fellow who decided to ride in a car with a pot of gumbo. AND make a video of it. Can you believe it? But, hey, let’s get beyond the premise… and note that nothing happens. The gumbo doesn’t really spill. He just yaps about it and then calls and asks why there’s no top even though he knew there was no top when he entered the vehicle. Hmmmm. That’s some situation. And Jon shared it.

When I asked Jon why he deemed this absolute piffle “funny,” he exhibited another marker of an AOR sufferer:

2. Lashing out at those who question the digital trash you’ve disseminated

He gets upset, you guys. His hair doesn’t fall out, and you can still board him, but he gets upset. On a recent Thursday, Jon informed me that I was an “idiot” 13 times via text (one for each shoe size?). In fact, here he takes it a step further:

While the lack of true humor and associated aggression is at times infuriating, the high holidays demand that we be our best selves. It would be so easy, and perhaps satisfying, to tell Heinz to “getrekt” accompanied by a gif of SpongeBob SquarePants, but we must ask ourselves: What would Rick Majerus do? He would run the pick and roll to perfection, order up some onion rings, some fries, potato skins, wings, a couple of burgers, a few beers, a piece of chocolate cake… and only then, his appetite sated, would he find within his soul a slice of “compassion pie.”

Gimme the grease board and listen up, you guys. Here’s what we’re gonna draw up:

The entry fee has increased by $1 this year, with ALL proceeds going toward the AOR Foundation.

We’re gonna have a tournament this year, man. And, Gods willing, Jon is going to get the help he so desperately needs.

Now, the particulars:

Click here to join the group, man.

Link to Leaderboard once you’ve joined the group.

Please Venmo your $31 entry fee to @Marc-Sheforgen with haste.

And, lest we forget, the rafters:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 Jon Heinz
2019 Kevin C. Wilson
2020 The Chinaman
2021 ??????????

Reverently,

-Burkhalter

Nothing new to report. It all went just as you assumed it would.

Kevin C. Wilson. The “C” stands for “championships.” This is Kev’s fourth title, setting him apart from Cullen and Dan-O, who both have three. Kev’s now won nearly a quarter of our contests. In a 12-man league, he’s doing the work of three men.

The “C” stands for “consistency.” Kev’s in the running every single year. He’s finished top three in 70 percent of our showdowns, and only one time in 17 years has he finished in the bottom half of the standings (ninth place in 2015).

And alas, the “C” stands for “cunt.” We could have chosen “chalk” or “conservative” as c-word alternatives, but “cunt” is synonymous with “pussy,” and that’s just the only way to accurately describe what’s going on here. Excluding 8 vs. 9 and 7 vs. 10 matchups, Kev picked exactly one first-round upset. Just the one. He got it right (UC Irvine) because of course he did. He got a little fired up and picked two second-round upsets before he was able to catch his head and turn in an Elite 8 of all 1 and 2 seeds, as we’ve come to expect. As soon as this tourney got off to its most chalky start in recent memory, it was guaranteed that Kev would at the very least be in the hunt, which, coincidentally, rhymes with cunt.

Really, the “C” stands for “cash.” It’s headed Kev’s way, and the odds are that it will many more times for years to come.

The perfect foil to KC Dubbs and his William F. Buckley approach is Clark Wildenradt, another of our c-named contestants. Here, the “C” stands for “idiotic.” “Crazy” just doesn’t quite describe it. Clark turned in the single worst bracket in the history of our contest. He picked a 16 seed, two 15 seeds, a 14 seed, two 13 seeds, a 12 seed and an 11 seed all to advance to the second round. Clark’s wife was in labor – emergency-style – as the brackets were due. Maybe he thinks that’s an excuse? I don’t know. Postpartum depression? Regardless, that ain’t no kind of role modeling for the next generation. Mom and baby are doing well. Dad? Not so much. Dead last. End of the line. Ever thus…

And here’s how it looked:

Kevin: 83
Marc: 81
Brad: 77
Joe: 76
Ryan: 75
Rusty: 70
Matt: 69
Dan: 68
Trevor: 64
Jon: 62
Brennan: 60
Clark: 45

Breese’s spread of 15 over Clark marks the largest gap between last place and second-to-last in our history. The previous record was nine (2007 and 2015). Unbelievable. It’s a given then that the 38-point chasm between this year’s champion and bottom feeder is also a record.

Kev came within one point of our all-time high-water mark – 84 points in 2012. That year’s winner? Kevin C. Wilson.

Did you know that only one time in 17 years has Kev picked a seed other than one to win it all?

The “C” stands for “courage,” because despite all the name-calling, jabs and gibes, there stands Kevin, resolute in victory and rich as fuck. That’s $1,180 in career earnings.

With a Kiss,

Commissioner Sheforgen

Consider, as you already have, where we were the last time our Jayhawks
finished lower than first in the Big 12.

• Only Likens had children.
• Heinz still had handcuff marks on his wrists from his stay in Hennepin
County.
• Rybo was still driving his first Audi and had yet to decide on a
country club.
• Breese, too, was still working on his first million.
• C-Note was still a student at KU.
• Brown, the poor sap, was eating hamburgers, yet to be trained in the
ways of the steakburger.
• Trevor hadn’t yet made his bones (KU online correspondence courses).
• Rusty’s hairpiece was in a transitional phase.
• KC Dubbs had yet to fill even one hand’s fingers with fantasy hardware.
• Cullen’s wagering, while regular, had yet to graduate to daily and at
that point did not include women’s college basketball.

Halcyon days, as the ex used to say.

Hope springs eternal. A new day is upon us, and our glasses are again
topped with the frothy head of optimism. Lest we forget, great things
have been born of humbler beginnings than this. I’m talking about 1988
and a six seed, of course. Minneapolis is a reachable destination for
most in our midst. Pregame party sponsored by Hanz and KC Dubbs.

The High Holidays. Where we bury the hatchet, shake hands and latch it.
All sit together as brothers. “As-Salaam-Alaikum,” “Shabbat Shalom,”
“Sweet Jesus,” or “Go Fuck Yourself” – however it is that you give
thanks, know that you’re welcome here.

And now, a moment of solemn respect for those who’re fucking this chicken:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 Jon Heinz
2019 ?

Ryan Dardis and Marc Sheforgen have been at it this whole time. All 16
years. And they’ve got nary a title between them. Not a one. It’s the
ever-present reminder in a world that Captain Ron has otherwise
conquered that money can’t buy happiness. Only brackets can.

Scoring, $30 cover, rules and especially tiebreakers all remain the
same. Tattoo it on your forehead.

We’re with Yahoo for as long as Rusty keeps his job or until he pisses
us off. Just click here, man.

And now please sit, here, at the table as we light the family’s
handblown menorah. Enjoy your feast.

Eternally,

Commissioner Sheforgen

Our inaugural champion rides high yet again. Jon Heinz adds a second banner. Our first and, for now, last champion. Bookends. You doubted him – and for good reason – and now here he is. Shades of Jack Givens in ’78.

So much controversy this year.

Very clearly Ryan Dardis auto drafted his bracket. No other plausible explanation for how he came so close to his first victory. His pick of Michigan to win it all, while spicy and impressive, was obviously the work of a computer. Maybe next year he’ll automate his payment process.

Then there’s the even more serious matter of the alleged fraudulent activities of Brad Likens. The shame that’s befallen he and his family is almost unspeakable. So soon after the scandal of ’15 and his late entry. And then last year’s sexual harassment charges that have dogged his personal life. They all pale in comparison to this. The evidence, you see, suggests that Likens never actually joined this year’s family gathering. It’s likely that his wife came in his stead. Yes, you read that correctly. Likens’ bracket was entered under the name “JanaeL’s Standout Bracket.” The family server almost broke once this was realized. There was tremendous outcry, especially as Janae jumped to an early lead.

Likens was promised his day in court and the opportunity to clear his name. He was warned that the questioning would be severe and to the point. The defense offered this:

“That’s just the name on the login I use on Yahoo. By the way – Exhibit A on whose account that is: click on my owner name and look at the fantasy history. Storied past dating back to the start of yahoo fantasy”

An “Exhibit B” was never offered.

To summarize, Likens’ claim here is that he’s operated under his wife’s name for 18 years.

The only thing suggesting that there’s any chance that the man of the house is making any of these decisions is that in 18 years and 58 contests with Yahoo Sports, this account has finished in the bottom half of the standings more than 62 percent of the time. We didn’t set out to disparage Janae’s prognostication prowess, but she sucks. Likens would like you to believe that it’s he who sucks. You decide.

Our champ earned this one by being one of only two participants to pick the correct champion, Villanova. Cullen, who finished third, was the other. Heinz separated himself from Cullen with five more correct first round picks and one more correct Sweet 16 pick.

But Heinz’ real adversary was Dardis, who put together an impressive bracket. His picking of four of the Elite 8 was matched only by Clark Wildenradt and Marc Sheforgen. But it was the Michigan pick to win it all that set him apart. In fact, our championship wasn’t decided until the final night. Had Michigan won, Dardis would now have his first championship. But they didn’t, and he doesn’t.

Let’s count ’em up:

Jon: 64
Ryan: 61
Matt: 58
Kevin: 57
Clark: 57
Janae: 56
Rusty: 52
Brennan: 52
Marc: 52
Trevor: 50
Joe: 48
Dan: 47

Incidentally, this was our lowest winning score since 2011, when Breese won with just 55. It was also 2011 when Rybo last finished runner up.

Things are really looking up for Heinz. Recent job promotion, purchase of a new house. Ain’t none of that nothing compared to this, his second title. Heinz has pined for this day for a long, long time. How long? When he last won, Michael Jordan was still playing. Outkast’s “Hey Ya!” topped the charts. Operation Iraqi Freedom was launched. The $2 bill was still in circulation. Cullen was still smoking.

Well, there you have it. Sixteen years of beautiful tradition.

With love,

Commissioner Sheforgen

Rusty struggles with sobriety. We all understand that and accept it as part of his charm. Turns out he got a little high in 2010 and now – eight years later, and likely while again high – he’s found regret and is looking to assign blame.

In a random and late night text conversation on the night of January 17, a Wednesday, Rusty came heavy with: “Can we pls first tie break to having picked champion?” You’ll have to forgive the predicable typos. The night had waned on by this point and, well, no telling Rusty’s state. He caught himself and edited his text to read, “Change tie break”.

After some deciphering and code cracking it was understood that Rusty was not satisfied with the way we handle tie breakers. As you know, our tie breaking solution has always been, first, total points of the championship game and then, if still tied, a live fistfight. Well, that’s not good enough for Rusty. Next thing you know, Brown Joe – easily our most peaceful participant – is having his good name dragged through the mud. Rusty launched allegations that called into question the validity of Brown’s lone title, the very banner that hangs in his dining room. I’ve seen it myself. A hand-stitched piece. Please. Rusty claimed that the year Brown won – 2016 – Rusty would have won had the tie breaker been correct pick of the champion.

An investigation ensued. Turns out, in 2016, Rusty finished last. Dead last.

Ironically, in 2015, Brown Joe did actually tie for first but lost the title to Cullen by way of the points total tiebreaker. We heard nary a word of complaint from Brown Joe. He instead went to the woodshed and emerged a year later as the true champion. Brown can now look back on a life of achievement, on challenges met, competitors bested, obstacles overcome.

Here’s where things got a little weird, you guys. Now even later into that January night when it was pointed out to Rusty that he had in fact finished last the year that Brown Joe won, Rusty pulled a very bizarre reverse pivot segue and lashed out at Manute Bol, the 7′ 7″ giant of ’80s and ’90s NBA renown. Callously, Rusty even referred to him as “Minute Bowels.” As everyone knows, Bol, who passed away in 2010, was injured in 2004 when his under-the-influence cab driver lost control of the car in which Bol rode and struck a guard rail. Bol was ejected from the vehicle and suffered a broken neck. He then moved to Olathe, Kansas, presumably to be closer to Likens, and lived his final years in unspeakable chronic pain, so debilitating that he was eventually bedridden. Ultimately, he was unable to move his bowels, minute or not, on a commode.

Talk about insensitive. Classist at minimum. Bol hailed from the Sudan, where the per capita annual household income is $3.87. Rusty, of course, lives in posh River Forest, where $387,000 won’t even get you 1,000 square feet. He’s just a couple blocks from Speedboats and Quaaludes himself, for Chrissakes.

Sally Struthers has been alerted and a new commercial is in post production, Moulaye Niang standing in for the deceased Bol. As it always has been for most in our family, it’s about the babies. And the flies. And poor Manute (pictured above in a Jon Heinz lookalike contest).

But alas, we’re here to set the record straight. We must confess that Rusty’s original claims, albeit with a shaky timeline, do have validity. The year was 2010, not 2016. Rusty’s adversary was Dan Dan-O McClure, not Brown Joe. And yes, Rusty did tie Dan-O for the lead only to be beat out by the total points tiebreaker. Rusty, as you’d expect and as was pointed out in our opening statement, got too high, taking 155 points to Dan-O’s 140. The total ended up being 120. And yes, Rusty did pick the correct champion, Duke, while Dan-O chose Kansas. It had to have sucked. But so too must it have sucked for Andrew Jackson when, in 1824, he became the first presidential candidate to have won the popular vote but lose the election based on the Electoral College results. Incidentally, Jackson’s treatment of the Native Americans is not dissimilar to Rusty’s treatment of the Sudanese. But the similarities end there. Jackson won the presidency four years after his bitter defeat. Rusty? Four years later, he finished third. An also-ran yet again.

The point is that the rules are the rules, even if it can be argued that they are asinine. The bottom line is that Rusty’s 2010 body of work just wasn’t enough. Without picking the correct champion he would have been six points shy of Dan-O’s total. So he got his “reward” for picking the champion. Did Middle Tennessee deserve to be in this year’s field? Maybe. Probably. But they left it in the committee’s hands because they didn’t take care of business down the stretch. Same thing here.

Here’s where the league would like to extend an olive branch. Rusty is enslaved by Yahoo. They’re the ones affording him those plush digs. Yahoo runs bracket scoring just as CBS does. So, out of league loyalty to Rusty, we’re making the switch to Yahoo. Should be seamless. Please report any problems to Rusty. Here’s one: What is with the Mickey Mouse, weak-ass, alliterative bracket names, Russ? “Marc’s Marvelous Bracket” and the like? Come on. Get that shored up by next year, will ya?

So, the scoreboard will now be handled by Yahoo Sports. You received your invite by email. Picks due by Thursday’s first tip. No funny stuff.

The league password remains 1609.

And now if you’ll remove your caps, we’ll look to see if we can find Rusty’s name among the greats of the game:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 Trevor Schmidt
2018 ?

Suffering even longer than Rusty and under much greater scrutiny are league charter members Ryan Dardis and Marc Sheforgen, both still without a single title.

Scoring – and tiebreakers – remain the same. Entry remains at $30 per, plus any PayPal what-have-you. Winner takes $360.

Fondly,

Commissioner Sheforgen

$360 – The price of a soul. Trevor sold his own naming rights some time ago, the amount undisclosed. He goes by Travis now, the nondisclosure agreement precluding him from even objecting in public. Speculative analysis based on comparative data suggests that the name change cost less than $100. We know thanks to public records that Travis sold his soul for just $360. An alleged alumnus of Oregon (no document has ever been produced), Travis nonetheless was seen openly rooting for North Carolina against his Ducks in this year’s Final Four. All because he was the only one among us who had North Carolina winning it all. They did. And he now has his second title and another $360. But at what price?

Ryan “Cabs and Conference Rooms” Dardis is doing his best to present the illusion that he doesn’t respect our competition. By extension, he’s trying to tell you, straight to your face, that he doesn’t respect you. Travis might be OK with that. Slip him a couple bucks, and he’ll go along with anything. But what about the rest of us? This year, Dardis had to be harassed by phone as the first tip of the first game approached. His response to pleas for his picks at 10:57 a.m. was, “How much time do I have?” He stated – either for you to be impressed or as confirmation that he hates you – that he was making his picks “on the tarmac” as he waited for his plane to taxi. He was vacationing in Phoenix. Not for the Final Four. Not to attend any games. No, he was vacationing during the first and second round games – away from TVs. Dardis made his picks from the hip, relaying them verbally over the phone with no more than two seconds thought given to any selection. What’s more, he didn’t pay his entry fee until yesterday. That’s what he thinks of our competition. That’s what he thinks of you.

Sheriff Jon Brown Heinz was on the case from the get go, alerting the league office of Dardis’ truancy as game time approached. Heinz checked in at three-minute intervals until the picks were secured and published (number of smokes audibly destroyed remains undisclosed). You ain’t gonna sprinkle your seeds of aloofness and arrogance on the Sheriff’s watch. Kill it before it grows. Good work, as always.

Travis won this in classic tortoise fashion. Nothing at all flashy. He just hung around in the middle of the pack, round after round, biding his time. His coup de grace, of course, was his correct pick of North Carolina to win it all – our first correct champion pick in four years. Before that, Travis didn’t have the most Final Four picks (Dardis and KC Dubbs), he didn’t have the most Elite Eight (Rusty), nor the most Sweet 16 (Breese), not even the most Round Two winners (Breese and Heinz). But he was steady in every single round, keeping himself close enough to the teller’s window to cash out after Carolina’s championship. Well played.

KC Dubbs finished runner-up for the second straight year. Over the last decade, he’s finished in the Top Three 70 percent of the time, including three titles.

The final tally:

Trevor: 72
Kevin: 68
Jon: 67
Rusty: 65
Dan: 65
Marc: 62
Brennan: 59
Ryan: 59
Joe: 58
Clark: 54
Matt: 48
Brad: 43

That’s 15 years in the books. Sweet 16 next year. Kind of a rite of passage.

Jon Heinz – the only one among us who’s in a coed band – has agreed to add a second Natalie Merchant cover to his setlist. “These Are The Days” – guaranteed to bring goosebumps (or goose flesh if you’re so bold) to Twin Cities bar flies these next three weeks. “Never before and never since, I promise, will the whole world be warm as this.”

The High Holidays. These indeed are the days. And they belong to you. How will yours be remembered? Strategize. Think selfishly. And do not fu*k this up. Sing like no one’s listening. Dance like you’re wasted. Love like you’re paying by the hour.

The K-Tin corridor’s been buzzing since we last talked. The sting of a sexual (pronounced SAYk-sual) harassment (pronounced harris-ment) lawsuit, a 40th birthday blowout, college recruiting visits for his football kicker eldest child. All that and self-ascribed perfect pitch. Lot of momentum for our league’s KC connection, Brad “The Rice Man” Likens. Though, as Heinz would say, his rafters are as barren as Condoleezza Rice’s uterus. Still yet, might we be on the cusp of his one shining moment?

Real shine, the kind that glistens, comes only from a well-polished hue of Brown. As hot as a pawn shop pistol, The Brown Mound of Rebound now sets out not only to defend his title but to attempt to earn high scorning marks for a third straight year. You’ll recall that in addition to his 2016 crown, Wichita Brown tied for best overall score with Matt Cullen in 2015. Cullen won the tie breaker and the title, but still… Brown’s found himself an algorithm.

Myself and Hot Ron Dardis have not. We remain tethered to the whipping post, the only charter members still without a single damn championship. Others suffering not as long but with no less pain include our National Lampoon’s tandem, Clark and Rusty.

These are the men who look down at us:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 Joe Fernandez
2017 ?

Games can be watched together, as a family, right here in the living room. The computers over at CBS will handle the scoring. Submit your picks here: kiitf.mayhem.cbssports.com. Password is and shall forever be: 1609.

Entry is still $30 per. Scoring stays the same. Picks gotta be in before Thursday’s first tip or the computers shut you down. Likens: I’m looking at you.

Warmly,

Commissioner Sheforgen

$360 – That’ll buy a few jars of pickles.

That’s right: Brown Joe is the proud new owner of a Freddy’s franchise in Indianapolis, Indiana. And that’s right: Brown Joe is our champion, winner of $360. And that’s right: the money’s already been spent on pickles.

Indianapolis, by the way, is site of the 2021 Final Four. Which got me to thinking about a family gathering. Whaddaya say? If the Hawks make it that year? Pre-game meal on Brown? Post-game sundaes on Brown? Heinz’ll remain in the hotel room, of course – blowing through the family’s savings. This is shaping up to be something special. Mark your calendars.

What a shot. What a game. The Tourney always delivers. Always. And this year it delivered more than always. It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

It’s three years running without any of us picking the champion correctly. Breese came closest. He often does. Ironically, or controversially, had Breese been correct with his pick of North Carolina as champion, he still wouldn’t have won. Brown had this wrapped up after the semis. Our esoteric scoring method divides points among the games a bit more equally than what you’ll find in the big-box-store, crackerjack-style pools. While those jobs skew far too heavily to rewarding a correct pick of a champion, thereby devaluing the earlier rounds, our approach is more socialist. And Brown, being both socialist and capitalist, navigated it perfectly. After a rather pedestrian start (T-8 after Round 1), Brown caught fire. He was T-2 with his Sweet 16 picks and his Elite 8 picks and then T-1 with his Final Four and championship pairings predictions. KC Dubbs finished two points back, losing this one by not getting a squad to the championship game.

You’ll remember, last year Brown finished tied with eventual winner Cullen. The pool was decided on the final game total points tiebreaker, Cullen getting 10 points closer to the number than Brown. If not for that, we’d now have our fourth ever repeat champ (Cullen ’04-’05; Dan-O ’06-’07; KC Dubbs ’12-’13).

Let’s have a look at the final breakdown:

Joe: 71
Kevin: 69
Matt: 66
Ryan: 65
Brad: 63
Brennan: 63
Jon: 59
Dan: 58
Clark: 54
Trevor: 53
Marc: 53
Rusty: 52

And there you have it. The money is Brown’s. The rest of you can suck it.

Auto-draft proves a simple, if not effective, solution.

“Do not be deceived. Bad company corrupts good morals.”

That’s a quote from JC himself – uttered those many years ago at the first tip-off.

I bring it up because, as you’ll recall, last year Likens submitted his picks some 10-or-so-minutes after the first game had tipped. Hot garbage, needless to say. As previously chronicled, it was confirmed that first game was tied at the time and, more importantly or at least more predictably, Likens was clueless as to the goings ons or score of that matchup. And so we let it slide. Likens finished bottom third, as the sharps had forecast.

I can’t let it go, though. He lives less than 12 miles from the College Basketball Hall of Fame (called the Experience, OK?). KC is a great college ball town. Not good – great. Likens representing Kansas City is like the Pizza Hut deliveryman representing Italian Americans. Not since the embezzlement scandal of former treasurer Jon Heinz in ’11 have we suffered this kind of hit to our standard of excellence. The league’s got eyes on this situation, rest assured.

Bob Davis hangs up the headset at the end of this year’s run. He and Max Falkenstein formed the most enduring and most memorable broadcasting tandem in school history – the very voices to which all of us cut our teeth, knocked back bong rips, made it with our best gal in the back of an ’86 Honda, dipped cheap pizza crust in cheap ranch, tacked up tapestries, played Ultimate Frisbee, worked hard to avoid working… the common threads of the formative years; halcyon days. Am I wrong? I’m not alleging Davis to be the best. But he’s a sentimental favorite, who deserves our respect. “Up that court… SWISH! Right through there!”

I also find it appropriate that all league members consider toasting Bill Self when they next imbibe with company. Something easy, classy and respectful. Maybe just, “To Bill Self.” Ya know? Down the hatch. I’m sure everyone says their prayers at night. There, too, is a chance to give thanks.

They say it’s wide open this year. No dominant team. We’ll see. What’ll any of it mean for Keep It In The Family? Remember, we’ve got a sample size now of 13 tourneys. That to go with our roster of 12 participants. And yet only six names grace the rafters. The big turkey gets the grain. Lotta TCUs among us.

And now, if you’ll please remove your caps and pay tribute:

2003 Jon Heinz
2004 Matt Cullen
2005 Matt Cullen
2006 Dan McClure
2007 Dan McClure
2008 Kevin C. Wilson
2009 Trevor Schmidt
2010 Dan McClure
2011 Brennan Hitpas
2012 Kevin C. Wilson
2013 Kevin C. Wilson
2014 Brennan Hitpas
2015 Matt Cullen
2016 ?

Nobody can take that away from them. Not never. Champions. Who too will be remembered by the generations hence?

League business is handled here in the clubhouse. Peep the new features of this ongoing masterpiece. We’ve again contracted with CBS to administer brackets and man the scoreboard:

kiitf.mayhem.cbssports.com

The password is and shall forever be “1609.”

Entry stays at $30 + PayPal per. Winner take all. Cash, pride, dignity, resulting trim – all of it.

Godspeed,

-Commissioner Sheforgen