However, it's downright un-American to avoid shelling out a few bucks on the office NCAA Tournament pool. And that's why I'm going to give you the best financial advice you've received ever since that day . . . oh, about a year ago . . . that your Uncle Ed told you to cash out and bury it all in the back yard.

This will take some discipline, sure, but do it. DO IT.

On the final weekend of the regular season, as the conference tournaments wound down, a bunch of men (maybe women, too, for all I know) sat in a room and decided on the seedings for all four regionals and every other step along the way to the championship. These are folks who likely know more about college basketball than you, your brother, your brother-in-law and, obviously, me.

Trust them.

Sometimes they're wrong. But they have a better chance of being right than you do. No, really, they do.

You're welcome.

The big question is, compared to the general male population, why have so few racers sported big-time facial hair? Over the past couple of decades, you could blame it on the modern driver's need to appear clean-cut and somewhat "corporate."  But even in the old days, judging from all those black-and-white photos, everyone's cheeks were smoother than a newly-waxed deck lid.

With very few exceptions, it's the same today.

The press box, of course, is a different story entirely.

DAYTONA BEACH -- Atop the Fan Deck in the Daytona garage area, so many folks in so many shades of NASCAR adornment -- Jimmie blue, Junior green, Gordon rainbow -- had little if any idea who they were watching pass through the tri-oval.

That they were watching, however, was a welcome development. Never has a racing season been so needed, it seems.

NASCAR fans, in particular, are a needy bunch. Only natural, I guess, to need a constant fix after 10 straight months of daily updates, punctuated weekly by main-event theater in Pocono, Charlotte, Talladega, etc.

It's been a bad few months for the Boys from Macon and all their fellow riders along the racin' trail. First, there was a rather uneventful championship chase last November, followed by the usual December lull and then . . . nothing.

The worst fall-out from eliminating the usual January testing here was the news void. Well, not entirely: There was news, all right, but nearly all of it bad. Drivers looking for teams, teams looking for money, fans looking for something, anything, to either cheer them up (their guy testing well at Daytona) or tick them off (their guy missing about 20 horsepower).

Meanwhile, the bad news mounted here and in the real world, and by the time NASCAR Speed Weeks arrives, those who aren't shell-shocked will still be confused about which driver is now in which car, and why.

But on this Saturday night, the cars were loud, the weather was perfect and, finally, fans were wandering around a racetrack in a good mood. The race season is under way, and for the followers, not a moment too soon.

Lee White has been peppered with the line of questioning so much in recent weeks, he was tempted to walk away when approached Saturday with the question: "Guess what I want to talk to you about?"

"Hopefully not the economy," said White, head of Toyota Racing Development.

"Every manufacturer is facing challenges, and us just as much as everyone else," he said. "I think what you're going to see from all the manufacturers, the last thing to be affected will be cars on the racetrack. That doesn't mean there aren't efforts being made there by everyone, but you're trying to do it in a way that impacts the on-track product least."

But as he talked, the Rolex 24 -- as well as the 2009 race calendar -- was minutes old. White was more than happy to turn away from nuts-and-bolts questions and consider the good psychological vibes flowing from all that noise on the track.

"I think it's paramount," he said. "Frankly, (bad news) is all we've heard about, to the point we're like, 'Oh gee, not that question again. For God's sake, give it a rest, let's go racing.' I think it'll help everybody. I think it'll help the fans -- the world isn't coming to an end, race cars are going around the track. I hope they come out in droves, take a break.

"Look around at the infield here. It's like the biggest crowd I've ever seen here. Go explain that."

Sportscar legend Brian Redman, grand marshal for this year's Rolex 24, has seen it all before, in differing forms. He remembers the entire Rolex being canceled in 1974 in symbolic reaction to the nation's fuel crisis.

"I don't think we've ever seen a recession of this type before. It's so widespread," Redman said. "But still, there are enough people with enough money for racing to carry on. And in the past, it has carried on. There was a drop in the number of people, but it carried on. Things will be affected, but it will carry on."

It really wasn't that tough of a call, but I was right about the "Fan Fest" at Daytona International Speedway this past weekend. Not a Sprint Cup race car in sight, and fans still flocked to the track, then plunked down $15 per ticket, just to get a glimpse of their favorite driver(s) -- and, of course, maybe the all-important autograph and photo.

Firmly pulling my "Man of the People" cap down low over my chilly ears, I waded into the sea of civilians and asked why it was so important to visit the track for such a non-event.

"All of this. This works for me. Actually, I'd rather be here when they're running around the track, but I'll take what I can get, because I can't afford the tickets."

Deltona fan Charles Webb, same question: "Get autographs. See the drivers."

His wife Kristen: "Any event they have here, we're here. Any time the boys are here testing or practicing or whatever, we're here, most of the time."

And finally, vacationing Scott Brandes of Ashburnham, Mass.: "Tony Stewart -- to get his autograph. Come on, get in line with us."

Whoah there, hoss. Waiting in line for a hot-rodder's signature is one of many places where I draw the line and remove the "Man of the People" cap.

You hear it during Super Bowl week, maybe leading up to the World Series, or, back when boxing mattered, in the days leading up to a title fight.

This past week, that question has been targeted on the national championship game between Florida and Oklahoma.

"Who ya like?"

"Whaddaya think?"

I guess it's a natural reaction when you run into a guy whose job -- in theory -- involves having an idea of who's going to win a certain game.

My favorite natural reaction involves the weather. How many times have you witnessed a sudden downpour and heard some variation of the following phrase: "Well, we sure could use it."

I always feel like saying, "Geez, I just poured a concrete porch; I sure can't use it."

Honestly, except in the worst of monsoon seasons, have you ever come in out of rainstorm and not heard someone mention how much we needed it? Well, the past week, I don't think I've run into anyone who didn't want to know who's gonna win the Gators-Sooners game. As if anyone really knows. At least with rain, you have Ol' Man Doppler for guidance. Who's gonna help us with the football game -- Lee Corso?

So, unless you're totally out of conversational ideas, move on to another topic.

And, by the way, Florida by about 12.

I used to consider that a humble trait, given that I didn't like looking at my "finished product" once it landed in the driveway. Then I realized that while it might hint at some sort of humility, it was also stupid. When you read your final product, you almost always learn something. For instance, a sentence that made perfect sense when written, might be quite awkward upon reading. So next time, you presumably remember that and word things differently.

Then there are facts. Or the omission of them, on occasion.

I was.

Later, as I read a story about the closest Heisman votes in history, it hit me: Back in 2001, I voted for Nebraska quarterback Eric Crouch over Florida's Rex Grossman, even though I'd personally watched Grossman play a half-dozen games that year, while watching only parts of several games involving Crouch's Cornhuskers.

Right about then I realized, hey, maybe I'm not a homer.

And for a minute or two, I felt better about myself.

I'll get over it.

I figure it must be written into the program's constitution.

But even with a pick here, a drawn-charge there, I couldn't really do it. Couldn't stay tuned in.

Years ago (and by "years ago," let's go with the '80s), I watched quite a bit of it. Back then, the best players were often with their schools through their senior years, and almost always there at least through their junior seasons. That allowed some sort of identity with teams.

Nowadays, the very best players don't go to college at all. The next level go there for a year. Two tops. You don't get to know anyone or any team.

Now that I think about it, not only am I oblivious to college basketball these days, I don't even know anybody who tunes into it.

Until March, of course.