Written by Jonathan Knight

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As the Susan Lucci of filling out NCAA tournament brackets, I decided that this year I’d take a different approach to my March Madness selections.

For the first time ever, I went to an expert for guidance. Not a college hoops beat writer or blogger or any of the unctuous talking heads from CBS or ESPN who have been proven wrong time and again, but a more approachable, less likely sage.

The frumpy receptionist who doesn’t know Mike Krzyzewski from Vladimir Putin but has somehow won your office pool three years running? Even better: my eight-year-old son, who has never watched a basketball game in his life.

If there’s one thing we’ve all learned over the years, it’s that the less you know about college basketball going into the tournament, the better off you’ll be in making your picks. And since this kid equates watching any kind of organized sport with having his toenails clipped, I figured he’s the equivalent of a tournament-bracket oracle.

I’ll warn you, some of his selections will be startling to anybody who’s ever heard of Dick Vitale. But since it’s been roughly 20 years since I was even in contention in a pool after the second round, who am I to question his logic?

We start with the play-in games. He picks Western Kentucky to beat Mississippi Valley State because Kentucky is warmer (than Ohio, presumably, not Mississippi). He goes with BYU because he likes the schools that just have letters as their name. And he favors South Florida over California “because it’s a really nice, warm place.”

And we’re off to the races.

In the first round alone, some would question his wisdom. His prediction of three No. 16 seeds winning, for example, is controversial, to be sure, but not that much sketchier than anything that’s ever left Seth Davis’ mouth.

In the South region, he picks Indiana to run the table and reach the Final Four because of the natural correlation between Tom Crean’s Hoosiers and adventuring archeologist Indiana Jones. Similarly, he gives UNLV a first-round nod after learning that they’re from Las Vegas, which is featured prominently in the movie Percy Jackson and the Olympians “and looks awesome.”

And unlike the rest of us, who make and re-make our picks and second-guess ourselves into oblivion, he sticks with his guns and never looks back. He selects Xavier over Notre Dame because of the “z” sound and the inherent coolness of the letter x. He’s confident Duke will hold off Lehigh because “a duke is someone you’d find in a castle.”

Take that, Clark Kellogg.

His cunning draws him to names within names: the “built” in “Vanderbilt,” the “bay” in “Baylor,” the “David” in “Davidson.” No less logical than your girlfriend picking a team based on its geographic relationship to a really nice shopping mall.

His love for letter abbreviations gives him the courage you don’t have to go with LIU-Brooklyn over top-seeded Michigan State. But the dream will come to a halt in the second round against Memphis, he says, because “their name sounds weird.” But in a fun way.

With the Blackbirds of LIU-Brooklyn finally knocked off, the path to the Final Four is cleared for seventh-seeded Florida, who my first-born predicts will carve through the West like disease in the 16th century.

Fresh off a week-long vacation to Florida in which he got to endlessly play on the beach and visit Universal Studios’ Wizarding World of Harry Potter, he shrugs nonchalantly when asked why Billy Donovan’s Gators are a team of destiny. “Because they’re Florida,” he explains as if speaking to an idiot.

In the East, No. 1 seed Syracuse has the misfortune of being paired with alphabet-soupy UNC-Asheville, which my offspring picks to reach the elite eight. Sadly, their consonant casserole will run out of magic in the regional finals when they face Ohio State.

Not because of Thad Matta’s track record or Jared Sullinger’s inside prowess, mind you, but because the boy knows where he lives. “I don’t know,” he says when he picks Ohio State to knock off Florida State in a regional semifinal, “I just don’t think Florida State can beat Ohio State. I just have a feeling.”

You’re not alone, big guy. On the other hand, he admits after picking the Buckeyes to beat UNC-Asheville, “I might be getting a little greedy with Ohio State here.” Pretty sure Jim Tressel never said that out loud.

Mass hysteria breaks out in his Midwest bracket, where Lamar - who will defeat Vermont in their play-in game because “they sound cool” - will blast its way into the Sweet Sixteen before running into the mighty Bobcats of Ohio University. He picks his father’s alma mater (which I am careful not to remind him of and I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten by this point) to beat Michigan without blinking an eye, then hesitates briefly before going with the Bobcats in their second-round encounter with South Florida (take note). “I don’t know,” he says modestly. “I just have big feelings for Ohio.”

And he hasn’t gone bar-hopping on Court Street yet.

The only thing standing between OU and the Final Four is, of course, Belmont. Aided by his bold selection of N.C. State over San Diego State in the first round (made because he accidentally began writing the “O” to start “Ohio” on the wrong line and it was easier to turn it into the “C” for N.C. State), he picks the Bruins of Belmont to reach the regional semis, where they will squeak past 15 seed Detroit in a matchup that could very likely send the Earth spinning off its axis.

But rest assured, the magic of having the word “bell’ in their name will eventually wear off and the Bobcats will topple Belmont to reach their first-ever Final Four. Their victory will set up an epic national semifinal between Ohio and Ohio State that would either single-handedly revive the state’s economy or spark a civil war. Or both, I suppose.

So here’s the defining moment of his bracket: Ohio or Ohio State in the national championship? He blinks for a moment as he begins to comprehend, much like the Michigan athletic department, that they’re actually two different schools. Then, without further hesitation, he writes “Ohio” without the “State.”

“Feelings, feelings, feelings,” he reiterates.

Naturally, Florida’s average daily temperature is enough to get it past Indiana in the other semifinal, leading us to the moment of truth: Ohio vs. Florida for the national championship.

No doubt dozens of other basketball prognosticators will also have these two in the final, but none for the highly personal reasons of this kid: the place where he lives and the place were he can actually go outside in the winter.

He thinks about it for a long moment, then with a steady hand that dares bookmakers across the country to defy him, writes “OHIO” in big, bold capital letters in the box right above the word “champion.”

His father (B.S. in Journalism, ’99) beams with pride. Eight years of providing yogurt and health insurance have finally paid off.

In case your pool requires a tiebreaker, he also provided the total points scored in the championship game: 49. To be specific, the Bobcats will defeat the Gators 25-24, apparently after going back in time 73 years and shooting a medicine ball at wooden peach baskets.

So there you have it - a license to print your own money: the perspective on the greatest spectacle in American sport by an intuitive second-grader who could eat popcorn for every meal.

As I’m sure you’ll agree, this is at least as valuable as any other predictions you’ll hear over the next few days - and certainly more interesting.

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