Let's be honest—has anyone ever truly said "smaller is better" with any real conviction? Sure, maybe for waistlines, cost of living, or golf scores. But when it comes to March Madness? Bigger is almost always better. That's why the NCAA's plan to expand both the men's and women's basketball tournaments to 76 teams by 2027 is generating so much buzz—and, predictably, some grumbling.

So, what's all the fuss about? The usual suspects—the complainers—argue that the current format isn't broken, so why fix it? But here's the better question: why not add to the field? And why does the idea of more teams, more drama, and more Cinderella stories ruffle so many feathers?

Let's take a quick trip down memory lane. For the first four decades of the NCAA tournament, the field was simply too small. Great teams—some of the best of all time—were left home year after year, with no chance to prove their worth on the biggest stage. The tournament started with just eight teams for 12 years, then grew to 16 in 1951, and finally hit 20-plus in 1953. It didn't reach 32 teams until 1975, and 40 teams three years later. The first 64-team bracket? That didn't happen until 1985—41 years ago. Since then, we've added just four teams, or roughly one per decade.

Now consider this: back in 1985, there were 282 Division I programs. Today, that number has ballooned to 361, with more on the horizon. The tournament's growth simply hasn't kept pace with the number of eligible teams. Not even close.

I'm open to hearing reasonable arguments against the expansion. Worried about game quality? That's always been a concern, and the solution is simple: losing to a powerhouse in the tournament should motivate programs to improve. I've also heard the tired line that the new eight teams "can't win it all." Really? People once said a No. 1 seed would never lose to a No. 16 seed. Then Maryland-Baltimore County stunned Virginia by 20 points in 2018. And I was in the stands when No. 16 Fairleigh Dickinson shocked No. 1 Purdue in 2023. The energy in that arena? The only game that came close for me was the 2005 Illinois-Arizona regional final.

Every Selection Sunday, a handful of teams are left out in the cold, agonizing over what might have been. In 2026, that list included Auburn, Oklahoma, Indiana, San Diego State, and Seton Hall—four of which hail from Power Four conferences. One reason they missed the cut? The sheer brutality of their schedules. Playing 20 games in the Big Ten is a grind, and it can wear down even the best teams.

Those extra eight spots? They're exactly what those red-hot, late-season teams need. And a wider field? It should encourage schools to take on tougher schedules, knowing they have a better shot at making the dance. So, yes—put me down as an enthusiastic "yes" for a bigger, bolder, and more unpredictable tournament.