It was that time of year again. College basketball was in full swing and my normally attentive students were filling out brackets under their desks. Exhibiting an age-appropriate lack of proportion, it was clear that there was nothing more important to these boys than forecasting the outcome of basketball’s March Madness. The Holy Grail was predicting the Final Four teams that would play in the upcoming championship.

Everyone had their opinions as to which teams would be in the Final Four and everyone was prepared to argue passionately for their predictions. Inevitably, this led to an increased volume in heated whispering and note passing during class.

After a day or two of March Madness, I decided that I had seen enough. I was not going to deal with this breach in discipline any longer. On my ride to school the next morning I spent a few minutes listening to ESPN and, with the help of “Mike & Joe in the Morning”, I was able to make my educated guesses as to the outcome of the college basketball season. When I arrived in school I confidently and decisively posted my “Final Four” predictions on the wall outside my classroom.

When class began, I made clear to my eight graders that March Madness had been settled. I had formed my opinion and there was nothing further to discuss. Any further speculation about college basketball would be seen as a personal affront and any ‘bracket’s found in the classroom would be mercilessly confiscated.

My boys reacted with respectfully masked derision. Apparently, my ‘picks’ were seeded terribly low and my understanding of college basketball left something to be desired. Nonetheless, my students recognized a strict teacher when they saw one and were able to buckle down and get back into the intricacies of Aseih Doch Lo Saseh and Lav She’ein bo Maaseh. Basketball conversations were relegated to recess and lunchtime.

I received my first phone call a few evenings later. “Rebbe”, an amazed voice said, “Connecticut just won their division in a major upset. How did you know?”

I explained to the caller that everything is written in the Torah. I also made a mental note to listen to ESPN on my way into school the next day.

Sure enough, as the season progressed, more and more of my farfetched predictions were realized. My students couldn’t hide their admiration. I milked the success for all it was worth and found myself following college basketball with increasing anxiety. My credentials as a prophet and the world’s coolest rebbe were at a stake. I would arrive in school each morning to a flurry of questions about the previous night’s game. Would Louisiana make it? Would ODU really lose every game? Did the Navy team have a chance?

I tried my best to smile wisely while remaining tight-lipped. I said nothing, but stood confidently and patiently behind my original predictions.

That season was a real victory for Sender Haber and the Torah. The students kept basketball out of the classroom and I gained a level of respect that put me in the same league as the rebbe who hit the legendary game winning home run. Virtually all of my predictions were realized and my students were so proud of their rebbe that they forgot how misguided their own expectations had been.

The episode of the Final Four and the hype surrounding it taught me an important lesson. I had picked my teams blindly and held onto them stubbornly in the hope that I would strike gold. We do this all the time. We invest our energy, our resources and our pride in dubiously selected projects and ideals. We do it with horses, with stocks, with careers, and with the way that we prioritize our lives. We are never quite sure that we are right, but we make choices and cling to them stubbornly. Sometimes we win; often we lose.

Is there a way to know what is truly important? Is there a way to know what is truly worth picking and clinging to through thick and thin and good and bad?

The answer is in the very last mishna of Pirkei Avos:

“Hashem has five acquisitions in this world: Torah, Heaven & earth, Avraham, the Jewish People, and the Beis Hamikdash”.

Hashem’s top five picks – His Final Five – are Torah, Heaven & earth, Avraham, the Jewish People, and the Holy Temple. G-d is completely invested in these the five ideas and He is confident that they will never lose value. If we stick with G-d’s top five investments, we are guaranteed to win. If we ignore them and put our priorities elsewhere we will have no guarantees. Even as the markets fluctuate and the world changes, G-d’s five picks are always guaranteed to win.

Never again have I been able to predict the Final Four as deftly as I did that first season. Prophecy was a gift that Hashem chose to give me for just one year. I will keep on trying each March, but from now on I will know that the main thing is to concentrate on Hashem’s top five picks.

Hopefully, I can inspire my students to do the same by teaching them Torah, enforcing strict discipline, and listening to ESPN every once in a while.