Sports Illustrated's NCAA Tournament preview issue arrived recently, complete with its cover photo montage, sponsored bracket insert and 36 pages of articles, sidebars and stat boxes.

I know that for a fact, because I counted them -- right after I read the story on Lamar Odom.

I'm sure that someone in the otherwise upstanding Obama administration is going to try and link me to al Qaeda when they read the next sentence, but here goes: I have zero interest in the NCAA Tournament.

Bracketology? I think I withdrew from that class. Pods? Weren't they part of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers"? The field of 65? Call me when they're down to four, and I'll try to sneak a peek or two if I can get away from my daughter's birthday party.

Here's what I did on Selection Sunday: I fired up League Pass Broadband and selected Heat-Sixers while watching Celtics-Bucks on TV. Then I selected Mavs-Lakers. Then I selected Suns-Warriors. Finally, I selected Nets-Clippers.

The top four seeds? Sunflower, snap-dragon, geranium and grass. That's according to my wife, who is getting the garden ready for spring.

My Final Four picks? Cleveland, Boston, Los Angeles and San Antonio. Yeah, I went with the chalk, too, just like all the experts.

I know everybody and their mothers spent this week entering online contests and printing out PDFs to fill out for their office pool, wasting endless hours fretting over which fifth seed is going home after the first round -- and then wasting even more time telling anyone stupid enough to listen why Northern Iowa is going to knock off Purdue.

Sorry, Mr. President, but I'm not filling out a bracket. I truly can't remember the last time I did. Why should I? To force myself to pay attention? To make conversation at the mall? You're either interested in something or you're not, and I'm not.

Besides, anything that provides anecdotal evidence that my dog possibly knows more about basketball than me is not a legitimate endeavor.

Everyone who loves the NCAA Tournament -- that being everyone besides me -- waxes romantic about the win-or-else format, the pageantry and tradition, the opportunity for upsets, the memorable performances.

Here's what I see: A schedule and format that punishes the best teams. Subpar basketball cloaked in futile effort and fight songs. "Upsets" that aren't really that surprising. And a whole bunch of guys who peak in life before they can legally drink.

Is that cynical enough for you?

Although I've always been an NBA guy, I used to like the NCAA Tournament. I really did. But a confluence of events in the mid-1990s sent me down the path of no return.

There's no doubt my time at the soon-to-be-contracted SportsTicker contributed to my distaste for the college game. From networks cutting from one game to another before showing a final score, to spoiled-rotten SID interns at snobby schools actually threatening to charge us for faxing a lousy box score to a toll-free number, to 1 a.m. ET start times in Hawaii and Alaska, to shoehorning countless agate files, 64 team capsules and 32 previews into 3 1/2 days -- half of which have a shelf life shorter than refrigerated ground beef -- nothing made watching sports for a living seem more like work than college hoops.

One year, I numbered the pages of a large notepad top to bottom from 95 to 1 and pinned it to the bulletin board. At the end of each night, I tore off some of the pages. A co-worker asked, "What's that?"

"The number of games left in the college basketball season," I said.

Then there's the quality of the basketball. Here's a conversational rule of thumb when discussing hoops: If the person you're talking to says the college game is better than the pro game, he or she is delusional. Just walk away.

For decades, the NCAA Tournament used to be one of the accredited proving grounds for future NBA players. Midway through the 1990s, that all changed. Guys like Ed O'Bannon, Miles Simon and Jeff Sheppard were winning Most Outstanding Player -- and failing miserably at the next level. Meanwhile, guys like Kevin Garnett, Kobe Bryant and Jermaine O'Neal were skipping college altogether -- and becoming NBA All-Stars.

The age limit has had virtually no effect, with guys like Carmelo Anthony, Chris Bosh and Kevin Durant turning college into a mandatory weigh station and kids like Brandon Jennings and Lance Stephenson circumventing school entirely.

By and large, the college game now develops primarily marginal players, many of whom don't even sniff the NBA. And the tournament's top seeds would get manhandled by your average team from Europe, which also has supplanted the college game in NBA fertility.

Just look at last month's All-Star Game. Of the 24 players who saw action, four played four years in college. Four also came to the NBA from foreign countries and six entered the league straight from high school.

The coaching doesn't help, either. At the college level, the players are transient while coach is the program's constant -- constant inflexibility, constant browbeating, constant paranoia.

Here's the list of coaches who have had considerable success in college and the NBA: Larry Brown, Bill Fitch, Jack Ramsay, Paul Westhead.

Here's the list of coaches who have had considerable success in college and the NBA, serving as an NBA assistant in between: Chuck Daly.

Here's the list of coaches who have had considerable success in college and failed miserably in the NBA: John Calipari, P.J. Carlesimo, Tim Floyd, Leonard Hamilton, Stu Jackson, Lon Kruger, Mike Montgomery, Rick Pitino, Jerry Tarkanian, Reggie Theus, Dick Vitale.

Part of the NCAA Tournament's magic is its win-or-else format, which seems to captivate those with tiny brains enamored with fairy tales but really has a serious flaw in determining a champion: The best team doesn't always win.

Do you really think that North Carolina State was better than Houston? Or that Villanova was better than Georgetown? Or that Duke was better than UNLV?

As Gregg Popovich repeatedly says, "The best team always wins a seven-game series." Not usually. Not often. Always.

So you found a way to slow down their star, got key contributions from some role players, made all your free throws, defended the final possession and stole a win on an unfamiliar court? Great. Now do it again. And again. And again, just to make sure it wasn't a format-fueled fluke.

In fact, when you consider the NCAA Tournament overall, with its win-or-else grid, opponent unfamiliarity and neutral sites, there probably should be more upsets.

Connecticut was among the best teams in the nation all season but is missing a key player due to injury. Its reward was an afternoon game at a half-empty arena in an unwelcome city against a foreign foe. That's like forcing the Orlando Magic to open the playoffs in Boston vs. FC Barcelona.

And college basketball fans say the NBA regular season means nothing.

I know the ratings for CBS, the buy rates on DirecTV and the hit counts on ESPN.com will be going through the roof over the next two weeks. They just won't be driven by me.

I'll probably check in April 4, right after watching Pistons-Sixers on ESPN -- unless, of course, my son has a Little League game.

The national championship on April 6? It won't be the same without Billy Packer -- the Blackwater Security Force of college basketball -- using his first gasp of airtime to extol the sport's virtues by bad-mouthing other sports, including the NBA. Apparently, he's too busy solving major crimes.

But I'll watch anyway. Besides, there's no NBA games that night.

Chris Bernucca has covered the NBA Finals since 1996 and is a regular contributor to Pro Basketball News. He can be reached at cbernucca@comcast.net.