Once upon a time

We are living in a fairy tale world that comes around once a year. It is a wacky world dominated by the jitterbugging of 64 of America's most beloved, and scarcely known, college basketball programs. The setting is the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament, and it features unadulterated "David verses Goliath" match-ups. That's the beautiful thing about the national championship in college basketball. It truly is win or go home. And in 2010's "big dance", Cinderella has been winning.

It hasn't just been one Cinderella that's grooving ever closer to cutting down the nets. At the conclusion of the Second Round of the NCAA tournament, there have been 15 "David over Goliath" victories and as of March 23, there are still six 6-seed or higher teams left in sweet-sixteen round.

Those six teams are the definition of a glass-slipper wearing, life-of-the-party at the "Big Dance" Cinderella. 2010 could turn the entire world of collegiate sports on its ear by hosting an – for the first time in the history of history or basketball – all mid-major Final Four. The Ivy-League's Cornell, Huskies of Washington, St. Mary's Gaels and the Jayhawk-killing UNI are the 12-9 seeds respectively, and if three of those four teams win, along with 5-seed Butler, history will be made.

That hope, that so many people have clung to like a four-year old to her blankie, has inspired me as a Major League Baseball fan.

Yeah, it's confusing how it relates, but hang in there.

Before March Madness took control of America, one buzzer-beater at a time, all we – as sports fans – had was one depressing story after another. Tiger Woods and Big Ben Roethlisberger are you-know-what deep in tabloid sex scandals, tragedy surrounding Chris Henry's accidental death and the reunion of self-proclaimed 'roider – and therefore cheater – Mark McGwire with his St. Louis Cardinals have left me in a deep, dark-blue sports depression. My favorite thing in the entire universe, sports, had me seeing red.

Until now.

Hope has hit my heart like a shot of adrenaline after an espresso-laden latte frappacino, or whatever it is that Starbucks became famous for. Firstly, Tiger is coming back in a conquest to redominate the golf world from its very own Mecca, The Masters. That's the most likely of fairy tales to become reality.

Secondly, but equally – if not more – important, my Atlanta Braves have an actual shot to return to their ‘90s form by winning the NL East, and beyond. The fairy tale here focuses on the two bravest Braves, striving to regain glory before they retire from the game, only to become eternally immortalized in Hall of Fame enshrinement.

Braves third basemen Chipper Jones and manager Bobby Cox have publicly declared that 2010 will be their final seasons in baseball. Doubt that as you may – and I do – but their decrees raise the stakes for this season. The greatest contributor to the World Series hope of Braves fans is that it's not impossible.

The powerhouse Phillies are in our division, along with the always upstarting Marlins, the rebuilding Mets and – owner of Stephen Strasberg's 100 mph, first-round pick arm – Nationals.

OK, so what?

Cox's Braves have Jason Heyward, a six-foot-four, 230-pound, baseball-crushing ogre. He is said to have the power of Thor and potential of Roy Hobbs. Rumor has it that he vaporized a baseball, sending it 500-plus feet, into the team's parking lot, cracking his General Manager's windshield.

Not convinced?

Los Bravos still have one of the major's most shutdown pitching staffs, led by perennial all-star catcher Brian McCann and diaper-dandy phenoms Jair Jurrjens and Tommy Hanson. Add free-agent signees Melky Cabrera and Troy Glaus to Jones, Nate McClouth and potential late-season call up Freddie Freeman, and the Braves have a chance.

That's all you need anyways. You've got your heroes: the Braves, Cornell and Woods. Your villains: all the favorites, except Woods. And your fantastical fairy tale settings: sports. So, in the words of T.O., get your popcorn ready and plant yourself in front of a TV or, if you're lucky enough, at a stadium and cheer for the underdogs.

I'm praying that the slipper fits and the clock never tolls midnight.

Get it. Got it. Good.