I was mathematically eliminated from college bowl pick ’em at the office with 13 games left. The leader — an Indian gentleman — is 15-2. I’m 11-6, but there are only three games left where he and I picked a different winner.
At least I’m ahead of the woman who picked the games based on which of the mascots would win in a fight.
If I’d won the thing, I probably wouldn’t mention that I actually let my son pick the games, my only rule being that he had to pick USC in the Rose Bowl . . .