By: Joseph Herrmann
Every year, March Madness is a huge success. It’s the most beautiful type of chaos – the buzzer beaters, the Cinderella stories, the brackets busted by noon on Thursday. And somehow, right when it feels like we’ve collectively nailed the formula for a perfect tournament, someone in charge wants to mess with it.
Lately, there’s been noise – too much noise – about expanding the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament beyond the current 68 teams. The NCAA Transformation Committee opened the door last year, and now we’ve got administrators and conference commissioners hinting that more teams might be “good for the game.” But let’s face it, it’s not a good idea to expand the competition.
Now, I get it. On paper, more teams sounds like more fun. More games, more players getting the spotlight, more “meaningful basketball.” But here’s the thing: the tournament isn’t broken. It doesn’t need fixing. In fact, the charm of March Madness is that it’s exclusive enough to make the stakes feel high and the upsets feel electric. Each season, teams vie for a coveted spot and a chance to bring their school a national championship. With only 68 teams making the cut, every regular season and conference tournament game carries weight. Expanding it risks turning something special into just another bloated bracket.
One of the biggest arguments for expansion is that it would give more “deserving” teams a shot. But let’s be honest—if you’re on the bubble and didn’t make the cut, there’s probably a reason. You either didn’t win enough, didn’t play anybody, or just didn’t get it done when it mattered. That’s sports.
And let’s not pretend like the Selection Committee has been stingy. With 68 spots already, that’s nearly 20% of Division I teams making the tournament. You want in? Win some games. Win your conference. Don’t lose to a bottom-feeder in January and then act shocked when you’re left out in March.
Bubble teams getting snubbed actually fuels some of the best conversations in sports. It gives Selection Sunday real tension. If you let in everyone who’s close, the bubble loses all its drama, which makes up a good chunk of the fun.
Do we really need to see the 10th-best team in a power conference sneak in with a 17–15 record? Do we want to reward .500 squads just because they play in big TV markets? That’s exactly what expansion would do.
This season, for example, the bubble was as weak as we’ve seen in years. Yet somehow, historically strong programs like North Carolina still made the tournament, even though they stumbled to a 1–12 record in Quad 1 games, the very metric the selection committee claims to value most. Expansion wouldn’t raise the level of competition, it would just let in more underwhelming teams riding name recognition and conference clout. Instead of sharpening the field, it would water it down.
Adding more teams dilutes the product. It rewards mediocrity. One of the best parts of March Madness is seeing a red-hot mid-major knock off a flawed major conference team. If we expand the field, we risk crowding out those mid-majors with more middle-of-the-road Power Five squads who had their chance and blew it.
Let’s also talk about logistics. If you expand to 80 or 96 teams, how does the schedule even work? Are we adding more days? More play-in games? Cramming even more into an already-packed four-day opening weekend?
Part of what makes the tournament so watchable is that it ends. The first weekend is a sprint, and by the time we get to the Final Four, we’re emotionally spent—in a good way. Stretch it out too long or add too many teams, and people start to tune out. That’s not good for anybody.
At the end of the day, the push for expansion isn’t about the game. It’s about the money. More games mean more TV slots, more ad revenue, and more opportunities to squeeze dollars out of viewers and sponsors. But just because there’s more cash to grab doesn’t mean it’s better for the sport. In fact, it might hurt the product in the long term. If people start to feel like the tournament is just another cash grab, the magic wears off. And once you lose that magic, you don’t get it back.
We’ve got a great thing going. A 68-team bracket that balances opportunity with exclusivity, madness with merit. It’s big enough to include surprises but small enough to make those surprises feel meaningful. Expanding the tournament won’t make March better. It’ll make it messier, longer, and less special. Sometimes, the best move is to leave a good thing alone.
So, NCAA, if you’re listening, don’t mess with March. You’ve already got the best postseason event in American sports. No need to overthink it.
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