Despite being married to a math teacher and working in the banking field, apparently my math skills leave something to the imagination. How else do you explain losing to my 5-year-old and 3-year-old in the annual "Ola March Madness Family Tournament?"

In fact, I am losing to everyone except my dad.

On a positive note, I am happy to report that the total time completing my bracket equaled the same amount of time as my New Year's resolutions; four minutes.

This leads me to my next point — the science behind the picking.

Each participant (there are 10 of us in this tournament) has their own unique method to predicting the outcome.

My son, and current second place participant, picked his teams based upon where he's been and the town he likes the most.

Not surprisingly, he picked Butler to win several rounds. This geographic method seems to work well, as he likes Florida more than anywhere else in the world, so they are ultimately his final pick to win it all.

My daughter, however, elected to use higher math by choosing the number she liked the most. As a result, all of her #4 (Brett Favre) teams win a lot of games, as does the #7 since that is her Papa's favorite number.

The newest member to the family tournament chose a "delayed" start tactic that worked well; opting to turn his picks in a couple of days late. Naturally, his new bride (my sister) vowed that his picks were completed well before the noon deadline.

They're still on the honeymoon. Wait until next year when she pushes him under the bus.

Speaking of my favorite sister, she is the founding father of the tournament that goes back to a time when Bobby Knight had yet to throw a chair and Michael Jordan couldn't get a contract endorsement because he hadn't turned pro. Her methodology of picking remains a great mystery, kind of like knowing where the other sock goes once you put it in the dryer.

However, she is consistent in her finishes, always placing in the top three. There is something appealing about her losing to my wife, though. Let me explain.

At the risk of giving away a serious secret, let me simply say that my wife deliberately waits until the morning of the first games to make her picks. I've noticed that each year, her picks arrive later than the previous year, although the logic behind the picks remains a mystery. Apparently she does well under pressure, as she currently leads this tournament of frustrated ex-jocks with nothing better to do for three weeks than worry about a game that takes place at 11:15 p.m. EST.

In all, the tournament has been around for about 20 years and has seen its share of turbulent times. Even this year, controversy ensued when my brother-in-law made his picks but chose to reveal them only to his new bride (wimp.) It will be fun to watch him try to sidetrack her in future years.

One thing that can't be said, though, is that the tournament is divisive. In fact, it brings this family of crazy people together for something that each of us look forward to. The traveling trophy is presented at the annual banquet, which is more about mom showing off a new recipe and the rest of us eating brownies, vowing revenge next year.

Keep your fingers crossed. With any luck, I can finish in seventh place this year and my son still has a chance to have his name emblazoned on the trophy. He'd be the youngest winner ever!