Normally I don't smoke, but already today I've had 748 cigarettes, only one of which touched my lips. "Can I bum one?" I asked my entry into the sordid, seedy and delightfully fun world of the Milwaukee mob--two high school teachers, two sales associates and one custom furniture dealer, smoking, drinking and gambling like fiends at the Paris Hotel sports book in Las Vegas. It's 8:15 in the morning.

Why are we here? Because "this is what it's all about," explains Bob, prompting Russ to stand up and shout, "Let's go one game at a time, baby!" High fives ensue, a goofy, magnificent display that will be repeated several times before the first ball bounces on the opening day of the NCAA Tournament.

What's it like in this room with a view of innumerable television screens, a Lake Mead-sized tote board and a sea of anxious bettors from parts all over (if you can see them through the haze)? Exhilarating. Exhausting. Hilarious. Offensive. Uplifting. Depressing.

There are the three college boys from UConn who salaam before Greg Gumbel's image the moment it flickers on screens throughout the room, starting CBS' coverage for the day. "This is so awesome!" one of them screams, and then they hug ... the guy with "trust me, thousands" in action on the early Thursday games who curses at the server from the back bar because his light beer costs $3.75 ... the cousins from California with money on Marquette who erupt with joy when the Golden Eagles, 10 1/2-point favorites, take a two-point lead with less than 2 minutes to play and, clearly, no chance to cover. "Never count out Marquette!" one of them proclaims. I ask how closely he follows the team, and he replies, "I don't. All I know is they're from Chicago."

There is a profane tirade for every other basket made, and yet strangers unite in victory and defeat; one nice woman squeezes my arm like a vise in the final seconds of California's narrow cover against N.C. State and, when it's over and she's lost, smiles and says, "Oops, sorry. Hey, did you win?"