You may be obsessed with your NCAA pool if:
You spend hours considering probability statistics and weighing intangibles before completing your bracket.
You roll your eyes when people tell you that they made their selections because of [insert one] team mascots, uniform colors or sentimentality. You do not recognize sentimentality. This year, you have your own alma mater losing in Round 3. To quote The Godfather, it's not personal - it's strictly business. You did pick your alma mater to win Round 2, and when they won the game at the buzzer, you leapt into the air with excitement, a little bit because your team won, but a lot bit because YOUR BRACKETED TEAM WON.
You also picked Stanford to win in Round 2. You just returned from a college tour of Stanford with your future-engineer-or-computer-scientist son. When a coworker informs you that he picked Stanford because your son thinks he wants to go there, you say, "Seriously? I didn't pick Stanford because my son thinks he wants to go there. I picked Stanford because on paper they seemed poised to upset."
You refused to go to bed until the San Diego State game concluded at oh-dark-thirty.
When people ask how you did in the "first" (meaning "second") round, you (at least, from their perspective) over-answer the question: "28 for 32, but I had two of my four losers going out in the next round, so I have 14 of my 16, 7 out of my 8 and all of my final four."
You consider texting the associate who is in charge of your office pool to find out if you are still tied with your law partner for first, or if you now have the lead to yourself.