Gather 'round, Cooler dwellers, and bring your brackets with you.

	"The Godfather" is a terrific movie, but does it beat out "Rocky" in your bracket?

Under the fluorescents, we like Bracketology. We like the hum of fax machines, revealing your prognostications. We like the exchanging of $20 bills, each Jackson representing a bet, or a belief. We like the never-ending arguments over seedings.

What, you thought we were talking about the NCAA Tournament?

Shoot, man, at The Cooler we've taken Bracketology to a new level. Any jock-sniffer can argue over whether Gonzaga merits a lowly No. 6 seed (they don't) or whether Cincy deserves a No. 1 seed over Oklahoma (they don't.)

I'm talking about serious Bracketology, man.

	U2 will definitely secure one of the top seeds in the bands bracket.

I'm talking about taking the artful symmetry of the 64-item bracket, and applying it to the real tournaments in life: All-Time Movies. All-Time Bands. All-Time Babes. All-Time Sporting Events.

Any schlub with an ATM card and a pen can fill out an NCAA bracket, pick Duke to win, and hand over his Deuce. But can that same schlub make the call between "The Godfather" and "Rocky"? Can that same schlub make the call between U2 and The Clash? Can that same schlub make the call between Liz Hurley and Halle Berry? Can that same schlub make the call between The World Series and the World Cup?

This is what I'm getting at: Life is a 64-item bracket, and we make single-elimination choices every day. For example, in an East subregional, I had "Doing Laundry" going against "Playing Golf" in a 16-1 seed matchup. The No. 1 seed cruised in a blowout. But the further you get, tough matchups present themselves. In a round of 32 showdown, I had "Shaving" going against "Reading the Sports Page." Let's just say the boys from Edge Gel were somber in the postgame press conference.

	Halle Berry had better beware of a pesky No. 3 seed like Salma Hayek.

Life can get tense. When you get to the Great Eight, you have scintillating showdowns, like: "Another Beer" versus "Taking a Nap." All it takes is a little momentum, a favorable bracket, and the right matchup before "Taking a Nap" is that day's Champion in your own personal NCAA bracket.

Let me issue a final warning. Beware the Mid-Majors in Life. If you're doing your Movie Bracket, always consider a No. 4 seed like "Swingers," or a 1985 Villanova-type No. 6 seed, like "Bang The Drum Slowly." If you're doing your Music Bracket, don't forget a potent No. 2 seed, like Led Zeppelin, or a WCC-like No. 10 seed, such as the English Beat. If you're doing your Babe Bracket, don't look past a No. 3 seed in the Southwest, like Salma Hayek; or a spunky No. 4 seed in the South, like Renee Zellwegger. And in the All-time Sports Event Bracket? Well, hell. There's only one choice for your perennial No. 1 seed, isn't there? The Granddaddy of 'em All, the reason we're having this damn riff ... the NCAA Tournament itself.

Let the good times roll, then.

On to the List of Five:

1. Tourney riffs

Has there ever been a year with less of a lock for the national title than this year? Seriously, man. Duke? They could easily spit the bit against 'SC or Alabama. (Don't think, as a 1989 UCLA graduate, that last sentence wasn't the hardest sentence I've ever had to type.)

	Drew Gooden and Kansas look very tough, but don't forget the Jayhawks' recent history of March stumbles.

Kansas? As usual, don't squeeze the Charmin -- Roy Williams just seems to marinate his guys to get as soft as possible come March.

Maryland as a lock? You're not serious, are you? Isn't Gary Williams still the coach? Cheeseheads are licking their chops for a second-round matchup.

And Cincy? I have fundamental problems with the way Bob Huggins dresses. I don't like my NCAA champions looking like Al Capone. Sure, any one of the four No. 1 seeds can win it all. So can any one of the top 16 seeds. And if you want to extend it a bit, with a few breaks, I'll throw in title hopes for Florida (No. 5 seed) and the 'Zags (stiffed as a No. 6 seed).

Let the waging begin.

2. I can't let go of this Luke Walton thing

All year, Luke Walton's heady play in an Arizona jersey has been like a knife in my back.

Et tu, Luke?

It reached its climax over the weekend when the Deadhead Redhead himself sported an Arizona T-shirt in the stands.

Bill Walton wore red.

	Luke Walton continues to pour salt into The Murph's wounds.

Bill Walton, the very man whose Ode to Westwood speech at Pauley Pavilion in 1990 caused a lone tear to streak down my cheek, not unlike the betrayed Indian in the litter commercial of the 1970s.

Now understand, I give him much love for supporting his kid. And I give him much love for supporting his kid in a Pac-10 final against 'SC. All good. But I must drive this point home for you few readers still out there. If you're an Auburn man, imagine Bo Jackson showing up in an Alabama T-shirt. If you're a proud B.C. Eagle, imagine Doug Flutie showing up in a Miami T-shirt. If you're Tar Heel born and bred, imagine M.J. sporting a Duke T-shirt.

Yes, people. It's that bad.

I have no solution for this happenstance. I only hope that by verbalizing it, I can find some sort of therapeutic peace.

3. Getting into Ivy League hoops

Did anybody notice that while most major conferences were playing out their charade of a conference tournament to make more money the kids will never see (thank you for allowing my Socialist Moment), the Ivy League was scrapping out a three-way tie?

I know you didn't. But I did. My fabulous and talented babe is a Yale girl, and anytime the Eli show up on the national radar, our little corner of San Francisco lights up. Consider that one of her Christmas presents was a personalized autographed photo of 49ers tight end Eric Johnson, Yale '01, given to her by her considerate, and credibility-shredding journalist of a husband.

So this past week. we noted Yale's bid to upend Princeton and Penn and forge its way into the tourney. The Bulldogs knocked off the Tigers, and set their sights on the Quakers. I tuned in to ESPNEWS to get an update. We got the update. Penn was up 15, late in the second half. ESPNEWS provided footage. I took note, and shouted out to my little Bulldog: "Honey, they showed your team. Unfortunately, your squad is slow, lily-white and small. Sorry, kid."

Thus ended our foray into Ivy League hoops.

4. They're not booing, they're saying ""Kooooooch"

	Matt Kuchar is the new poster boy for the "Stay in School" campaign.

A huge toast of the Sparkletts to Matt Kuchar for his maiden Tour win at the Honda Classic. If you're not into this guy, get into this guy. Given the chance to make the money-snatch four years ago after his attention-grabbing splash at the Masters and U.S. Open, he went back to school. He didn't get the cake, didn't play as well as he'd hoped, and faded from the Golf Media radar. At the same time, he hung with his pals, slept late on weekends, graduated from college, and honed critical social skills in learning the nuances of the fairer sex.

Now he's still smiling, playing great, and only 23 years old.

Ty Tryon, we wish you luck. But we would also advise you to take the next exit on the Kooch Freeway, kid.

5. A final thought on March Madness

Call in sick on Thursday! Do the same on Friday! We promise you the following: Games from sunrise to midnight, upsets you never dreamed of, Bill Raftery describing "the kiiiiissss" off the glass, and most important -- no regrets, baby.

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Weekend Water Cooler" every Monday for Page 2.