![[Brackets]](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/588756/thumbs/152x264/brackets.jpg)
brackets.” Cole was relieved at the last part; it might keep them from asking about Ichabod.
An older reporter raised her hand. “Did any of you have a system for choosing your teams?”
All four shook their heads, but Neeson Faulkner spoke. “As you may know, some of the greatest minds in mathematics and statistics have attempted to create a fool-proof prediction system, but none were ever able to overcome the realities of probability . It has never worked. So the four of us up here would stand to make a lot of money if any of us had some sort of system that could accurately predict outcomes in March Madness, let alone other, more complicated scenarios. I don’t doubt that someone will create one eventually, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that we are extremely lucky.” The other three kind of nodded, though they weren’t sure if he really spoke for all of them.
Next question. “Is the team that you chose to win your favorite team, or did you have a particular reason to like them?”
Tucker Barnes jumped on that one. “I don’t know about these guys, but Nebraska is going to dominate the next two rounds. I knew it from day one. Like my man at the other end there said, we’re really lucky and fortunate to be here, but my team is here because they’re the best, and I feel like I’m just running with them today.” Cole noticed some grins as reporters typed notes and looked up for more. The two older men were inspecting their hands, so Cole felt the burden of answering next fall to him.
“Yeah, uh, I think UCLA is a great team, which is why, you know, I picked them. I know some people were mad that I didn’t go with UCONN, but, like, and I’m not saying they aren’t a good team, but…” Shut up right now , he thought. “I’m just saying that I chose UCLA this year. ” He finished, trailing off into a silent room. No one really knew what to write. Someone in the room cleared a throat. Please don’t let Nera be watching this , Cole prayed as he, too, inspected his hands.
Next. “Who among you four is the most confident that you’re going to win?” Tucker’s hand shot up immediately, but Neeson also volunteered. Cole shrugged and Perry remained very quiet. “Mr. Lynwood, you don’t think that you’re going to win? Is that because you don’t have much faith in your bracket, or is that a vote of no confidence for Georgia?”
Perry mumbled low and had to be told to speak into the microphone. “No, they’re a great team and school and I have… but I just think that it’s kind of weird for me to get all the ones right that I did so I don’t see how I can really feel like I can just keep on winning forever.” It was a depressing enough answer that they just moved on.
The next question was directed at Cole. It was Deborah Cheney, and she violated the disclaimer. “Mr. Kaman, local station WHAR in Connecticut has been tracking the fallout from the bombing of the Player Pier in Hartford, which was apparently a targeted attack at you by the Wall Street bomber, now known as Ichabod. Would you care to comment about what that incident means to you now? Are you concerned for your safety?” The other three men turned to listen, as curious as the reporters. It had been on the news that whole week.
You were there, you give a comment , Cole thought, trying not to glare at Deborah. “No, I mean, nothing happened after that. There was this crazy guy, he just threw a metal ball at us and started a fire. We haven’t seen him since then, and nothing really weird happened all this week. The cops are still looking into it. I’m fine, I don’t have much more to say than that.”
Deborah followed up. “And your girlfriend?” Cole went red. Thanks for that, you…
“Uh, I’d rather not comment on that.” Carol quickly moved to someone else, for which Cole was grateful.
It hadn’t escaped one reporter’s notice that, even though they were offered tickets for a guest, none of them had
An older reporter raised her hand. “Did any of you have a system for choosing your teams?”
All four shook their heads, but Neeson Faulkner spoke. “As you may know, some of the greatest minds in mathematics and statistics have attempted to create a fool-proof prediction system, but none were ever able to overcome the realities of probability . It has never worked. So the four of us up here would stand to make a lot of money if any of us had some sort of system that could accurately predict outcomes in March Madness, let alone other, more complicated scenarios. I don’t doubt that someone will create one eventually, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that we are extremely lucky.” The other three kind of nodded, though they weren’t sure if he really spoke for all of them.
Next question. “Is the team that you chose to win your favorite team, or did you have a particular reason to like them?”
Tucker Barnes jumped on that one. “I don’t know about these guys, but Nebraska is going to dominate the next two rounds. I knew it from day one. Like my man at the other end there said, we’re really lucky and fortunate to be here, but my team is here because they’re the best, and I feel like I’m just running with them today.” Cole noticed some grins as reporters typed notes and looked up for more. The two older men were inspecting their hands, so Cole felt the burden of answering next fall to him.
“Yeah, uh, I think UCLA is a great team, which is why, you know, I picked them. I know some people were mad that I didn’t go with UCONN, but, like, and I’m not saying they aren’t a good team, but…” Shut up right now , he thought. “I’m just saying that I chose UCLA this year. ” He finished, trailing off into a silent room. No one really knew what to write. Someone in the room cleared a throat. Please don’t let Nera be watching this , Cole prayed as he, too, inspected his hands.
Next. “Who among you four is the most confident that you’re going to win?” Tucker’s hand shot up immediately, but Neeson also volunteered. Cole shrugged and Perry remained very quiet. “Mr. Lynwood, you don’t think that you’re going to win? Is that because you don’t have much faith in your bracket, or is that a vote of no confidence for Georgia?”
Perry mumbled low and had to be told to speak into the microphone. “No, they’re a great team and school and I have… but I just think that it’s kind of weird for me to get all the ones right that I did so I don’t see how I can really feel like I can just keep on winning forever.” It was a depressing enough answer that they just moved on.
The next question was directed at Cole. It was Deborah Cheney, and she violated the disclaimer. “Mr. Kaman, local station WHAR in Connecticut has been tracking the fallout from the bombing of the Player Pier in Hartford, which was apparently a targeted attack at you by the Wall Street bomber, now known as Ichabod. Would you care to comment about what that incident means to you now? Are you concerned for your safety?” The other three men turned to listen, as curious as the reporters. It had been on the news that whole week.
You were there, you give a comment , Cole thought, trying not to glare at Deborah. “No, I mean, nothing happened after that. There was this crazy guy, he just threw a metal ball at us and started a fire. We haven’t seen him since then, and nothing really weird happened all this week. The cops are still looking into it. I’m fine, I don’t have much more to say than that.”
Deborah followed up. “And your girlfriend?” Cole went red. Thanks for that, you…
“Uh, I’d rather not comment on that.” Carol quickly moved to someone else, for which Cole was grateful.
It hadn’t escaped one reporter’s notice that, even though they were offered tickets for a guest, none of them had
Similar Books
