If the NCAA tournament were an annual court case arranged to measure a conference's overall strength, and fans served as jurors, every season would end in a mistrial.
The prosecutors view the tournament as the SUV buried in the scrap yard of "Making a Murderer," undeniable proof of each league's makeup and true spirit, even when its results contrast with the progress of the previous four months. The defense acknowledges the Big Dance's standing as a perennial paradox, which often concludes with drama that is baffling even after young men with tears smeared on their cheeks snip the nets.