The 2025 NCAA Tournament field was announced, and it sparked a firestorm of controversy that sent shockwaves through the Indiana basketball community. The Hoosiers, historically one of the sport’s most storied programs, were not selected for the Big Dance. Instead, the North Carolina Tar Heels, with a relatively modest resume, clinched the coveted spot that many Indiana fans felt belonged to them. The decision sent shockwaves through the Hoosiers’ fanbase, and it didn’t take long for the criticisms, both justified and emotional, to flood social media, radio shows, and sports talk across the nation.
At the heart of the outrage was the glaring disparity in the treatment of these two blue-blood programs. Indiana had built a solid case for inclusion in the tournament, despite a season that saw some bumps along the way. They boasted a respectable overall record and had played in one of the toughest conferences in college basketball—the Big Ten. Yet, their resume was marred by narrow losses and missed opportunities that haunted them throughout the season. Still, they had a decent chance of snagging a spot, particularly given their recent strength in postseason play and the legacy they carry.
North Carolina, on the other hand, had a similarly flawed resume—some would argue even more blemished. With a lackluster performance in the ACC and multiple questionable losses against mid-tier teams, the Tar Heels seemed a shaky choice for inclusion. But somehow, the NCAA Selection Committee favored UNC’s rich tournament history, high-profile brand, and the perceived value of their program over the merits of Indiana’s 2025 season.
The question that hung in the air was simple: Why did the Tar Heels get in, and the Hoosiers were left out? For many, this wasn’t just a matter of basketball analysis—it was about legacy, fairness, and perception. Indiana, which has 5 national titles, had seen its program experience a resurgence under head coach Mike Woodson. The Hoosiers had been a competitive force in the Big Ten and looked poised to break through once again, but they were undone by the selection process. Indiana’s exclusion seemed to be more of a commentary on the NCAA’s favoritism toward programs with historical prestige, rather than a fair evaluation of current form.
This perceived snub echoed a deeper, more troubling issue within the selection committee: the bias towards the “name” programs—those with significant television ratings and national cachet. The Hoosiers, despite their rich history, were treated as an afterthought in favor of North Carolina, a team that underperformed in nearly every major category. The bitterness of this moment wasn’t just about the snub itself, but the way it revealed how the NCAA’s selection process often leans too heavily on historical reputation rather than contemporary performance.
For Indiana fans, this wasn’t just another slight in a long series of disappointments. This felt personal. Fans who had witnessed their team claw its way through adversity, overcome challenges, and play with pride now found themselves questioning whether the deck had been stacked against them from the beginning. How could the NCAA justify such a decision? It was more than an error in judgment; it was a systemic flaw in a system that purportedly rewarded merit but instead seemed to reward the past.
What’s more, the selection was a reminder of the growing commercialization of college basketball. The Hoosiers were a powerhouse when the game was pure, before TV deals and sponsorships dictated who got to dance in March. Indiana deserved better. The Hoosiers deserved their shot—not just for the fans who bleed crimson, but for the players who had poured their sweat and tears into the program.
In the aftermath, the Hoosiers’ exclusion stoked conversations about reforming the NCAA tournament selection process. Was it time to start giving more weight to a team’s current form rather than their past glory? Indiana certainly thought so.
