At a travel agency housed in a low-slung brown brick building in a suburban neighborhood in the middle of America, the travel consultants share one bathroom, a unisex one-seater stocked with Febreze and Aqua Net. Sometimes, especially on late nights in mid-March, when the caffeine buzz has receded and the pepperoni pizza delivered hours earlier has grown cold and rubbery, the bathroom becomes a refuge, sheltered from the buzz of phones and the clatter of keyboards and the glow of computer screens. Some words of wisdom are posted on the bathroom wall, taped opposite the commode so employees cannot escape them, even in their most private moments: “Stay positive. You can listen to the cynics and doubters and believe that success is impossible, or you can trust that with faith and an optimistic attitude all things are possible.”

Sweet 16 bound. #Sooners A photo posted by Oklahoma Men's Basketball (@ou_mbball) on Mar 25, 2015 at 2:40pm PDT

Outside this bathroom, even faith and optimism are feeble tools. The University of Louisville men’s basketball team and its coaches, cheerleaders and band members sit on a Kentucky tarmac inside a plane that can carry either its two tubas and two drum sets or enough fuel to get to Seattle without a fuel stop, but not both. Another Division I men’s basketball team is scheduled to depart at the time its athletics department requested – but the coach now wants to fly two hours earlier, when no plane is available. At an airport in Dayton, Ohio, Hampton University has arrived for the first round and, after unloading its gear, discovered its uniforms are missing.

Also out there are the cynics and doubters, their watch piercing and always present. They are the sports columnists and critics who lie in wait for a misstep, and here in the travel office, uneasiness is felt with each jolt of bad news (“Mechanical problem in Oklahoma”), each suggestion that this travel riddle might not get solved (“Green Bay women want to leave at 1 p.m., but the airline’s bid is for 11 p.m.”). Even the victories (“One charter company bid on eight legs for the second round”) are met with caution (“We have to give more love to this other company because we have 300 hours contracted with them over the next 10 days”).

On the first day of the Division I men’s basketball tournament, the NCAA overnighted Hampton University’s uniforms to Dayton, Ohio, the Pirates’ first competition site. The uniforms were left behind on the team's bus.

The second half of March is a logistical riddle for the NCAA travel staff, a multidimensional puzzle made up of pieces that can change shape, break or dissolve. Some, like clocks, calendars, airports and game times, are fixed. Others, such as buses, planes, travel bags and trombones, are mobile but inanimate – items in motion that must be accounted for and tracked. Still others – the most complex pieces of all – are living, breathing beings, with needs, wants and, often, demands. They are pilots and flight attendants, their movements regulated by the Federal Aviation Administration. They are baggage handlers and security screeners, who can be in short supply – particularly on the short notice the madness of March requires. They are airline and charter company representatives, vying for a slice of the $15 million the NCAA spends annually on transportation for the Division I men’s and women’s basketball tournaments alone. And they are the travelers themselves – the coaches, administrators, cheerleaders, band members and, of course, the players, who have worked all year for the chance to compete on this national stage.

This staff, too, waits all year for the championship season, although for them, the Road to the Final Four is more about the road than the finals. Their attention is captured by one emergency after another, as they coach the ground crew to pull some band equipment off Louisville’s plane and ship it separately so the team can avoid a fuel stop. Play defense on the 10 a.m. departure against the coach’s objections because another team 2,200 miles away needs the same plane a few hours later. Run a fast break on Hampton uniforms – found in the baggage compartment of the team bus – to overnight them to Dayton.

The travel staff checks the shipping receipt the next morning. Someone signed on the team’s behalf at 7:47 a.m. the day of the Hampton game.

Crisis survived. On to the next crisis.