The conquering of Division I begins with two steps.

On a furiously chilling Philadelphia evening in March, my fiance and I made our way to our seats. After a lifetime of watching the NCAA tournament on televisions that felt light years from the action, I was there. Thanks to the miracle of Stubhub, $46, and a supportive partner, I was 50 or so rows away from the spectacle I'd adored.

After a few minutes of the typical 2-versus-15 slaughter the former had a 10-point lead on the latter. I was hoping for a competitive game but I couldn't bring myself to be disappointed.

That's when the other shoe dropped...

Alley-oops, dunks, threes. Like a storm the Florida-Gulf Coast Eagles ravaged back and grabbed the lead. The boisterous Philadelphia crowd chanting, "E-A-G-L-E-S! EAGLES!!"" The Gulf Coast's courtside student section going berzerk; The Georgetown students, who had been relegated to the Upper Deck, sitting in stunned silence. Dunk City was being built from the ground up right before my eyes. My gaze constantly shifting between floor and clock. 

"Oh god, either we're about to see an amazing upset or an amazing comeback."

The Hoyas cut the lead to single digits but it was too late. The backboards bathed in red luminescence, the clocks flashing zeroes, and there it was. I'd just witnessed history... on my first try.

Walking through the corridors of the Wells Fargo Center, sipping an overpriced Coke Zero, I had only one strange thought burning through my mind. 'I need a Florida Gulf Coast basketball jersey.'

After returning home and reveling in the high of being a new found FGCU fan, I peered in my closet at the Gonzaga jersey I'd purchased a decade earlier. Not wanting to forget my first affair with a Cinderella, I imagined life with the FGCU jersey I now yearned for.

"Why keep getting Cinderella's after they get their slippers?" "What about the next Cinderella?" "Don't you want to be ready?"

I won't entertain that any of these are the thoughts of a sane person, but one afflicted with a rare form of March Madness. There was only one thing to do. Get them all.

This blog will document my road to attaining every Division I college basketball jersey, but first we need to take inventory

Jersey #1/340 - Gonzaga Bulldogs

"THE SLIPPER STILL FITS!"

I can still hear the immortal words of Gus Johnson ringing in my ears and boy do I miss hearing him call the NCAA Tournament. It was my first NCAA tournament, a naive basketball fan was I. I remember sifting through the names of my first bracket when I happened upon Gonzaga. Knowing nothing about them other than a funny sounding name, I selected them to go to the Elite 8. And like so many secretaries and the like that know nothing about the NCAA tournament yet win the office pool, I was right. A few years later I got this jersey.

I still love the Zags, even if they never match their Elite 8 performance.

Jersey #2/340 - Syracuse Orange

I remember sitting on Joe's couch, eating Turkey sandwiches from the local gas station and watching the Big East Tournament. Staying up til all hours listening to Rancid & the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, watching 'The Warriors' til the tape in the VHS wore out, unable to contain our excitement for the next day's games. Joe showed me the NCAA tournament. I "came of age" seeing it through the eyes of a devoted Syracuse fan watching John Wallace hit buzzer beaters. As we were forced apart by the trials of life I never forget what Joe taught me. That some things, like a noon tip-off at Madison Square Garden, are worth skipping school for.

Around the time I bought my Gonzaga jersey I got this one to honor Joe. Thanks Joe. I know I wasn't the best friend so thanks for putting up with me.

That's it for what I owned before my quest begun. So from here on out it's all about the journey.