But when she asked for tickets to see Lord of the Dance on St. Patrick's Day at the Center for Performing Arts, I thought, "What the heck ... how bad could it be?"

So I went online and picked up a couple of "Dance" tickets ... for March 17th.

At the time I figured March was a relatively safe month. After all, the Super Bowl had long been over, and the Major League All-Star Game and World Series were still months away ... heck, they wouldn't even "run for the roses" at the Kentucky Derby until later in the spring.

So March was safe, right? Oh, sure!

Call it temporary insanity, but I forgot all about "March Madness!" And there may be no event in all of sports that rivals the NCAA basketball tournament in excitement--especially on the first night of the tournament that annually produces major upsets in college hoops.

So there it was on Thursday night TV. And me? Well, I was sitting in the CPA listening to a bunch of Irish dancers clap their heels together instead of watching the Notre Dame Fighting Irish play basketball. Because I, in my infinite wisdom (and in a very weak moment that I won't repeat during the "Final Four" on Saturday), purchased tickets to a Thursday night performance! Great move, genius.

I tried everything I could think of to get out of it.

"You know," I said to my wife, "I think it would be a culturally enriching experience for you to take your son to see the 'Dance.' You two could have a real bonding experience. Sure, I'd love to go, but I'll make the sacrifice so that you two can share the experience."

"Hey, I'm not going!" blurted her son, "not with March Madness on TV!" (Big mouth!)

She didn't say a word.

"But really, it will be St. Patrick's Day and there could be a huge crowd," I said with a sincere tone of concern in my voice. "Shouldn't we trade in these tickets so we can get better seats?"

"We're in the first row," snapped my wife.

So, when my rational attempts failed, I took the next obvious step.

"But March Madness!" I whined. "It's on TeeVee!"

She didn't even bother to respond. She just threw me a cold, icy stare. I knew immediately that a tantrum was out of the question (though I was fully prepared to throw one if I thought it would help).

Well, she didn't have to slap me with a technical foul to get her point across. I knew I had to resign myself to the fact that I was going to see the "Dance" ... and I'd have to be really sneaky if I had any hopes of catching the game.

I thought about the challenge that the situation created. How could I keep my wife happy and still see the game?

The question brought back memories of the 1960 World Series ... you remember, Pirates vs. Yankees, Bill Mazeroski homers in the last inning of the seventh game.

Anyway, the problem in 1960 was that all World Series games were played during the day--and, since the series is played in October, that meant school days. I was a sixth grader at Daves Avenue at the time and had to be pretty resourceful if I had any hopes of hearing Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford, Yogi Berra and the rest of the guys.

It was really quite simple. I'd keep my coat on in class, and then keep my left hand buried in my coat pocket. That's where the transistor radio was hidden, with the cord running up my sleeve and out my collar to an earphone stuffed in my left ear.

I'm sure the plan would have worked, too, had it not been for our typical California Indian summer and the 96-degree weather. I'm not sure whether it was because I was sweating like a pig, or because I was cheering during our multiplication tables, but my teacher, Mr. Carrillo, figured it out and confiscated my radio. Leave it to a teacher!

Well, four-plus decades of technology--and a very generous Santa Claus--brought me a little hand-held television a few years back that would fit the bill perfectly. The trouble was, it wouldn't be as easy to hide as the little radio.

Make that impossible to hide. She noticed the lump in my coat pocket before we ever left the house and, in a sweeping move that would have made Mr. Carrillo proud, she confiscated my little TV.

At that point, it quickly became very clear--I would see the Irish that night, but it wasn't going to be the Notre Dame basketball team.

Next year, I'm definitely going with the Giants tickets.

Want to talk? Give me a call at 408.354.3110, or write to dsparrer@svcn.com.