Sing it with me, friends: It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

Maine doesn’t have a sporting event, social gathering, big box department store or any stop-everything-and-go entity with the universal appeal of its high school basketball tournament.

There’s magic afoot between the hallowed walls of the Augusta Civic Center and Bangor Auditorium. You might even call it a religious experience. Dozens of student-athletes spent the last four years pining for one opportunity to rattle the rim or squeak the floor in that popcorn-scented, open air.

Heaven smiles upon the allegedly rebuilding Gray-New Gloucester girls at 8:30 p.m. today. Thirsting souls are quenched at 5:30 p.m. Saturday, when the never-been-there-before Poland boys achieve nirvana. Monmouth’s ladies leave fresh footprints at 7 p.m. Tuesday when they confront Jay in a Western Class C quarterfinal, a party the program hasn’t crashed in 20 years.

Daydreams are fulfilled. Memories are etched that will long outlive trigonometry lessons.

Miss one second at your own risk, lest someone’s exploits in double overtime of a Class D contest become instant legend and you’re forced to fudge the facts to pretend you were there. By now, more people claim to have witnessed every nanosecond of Andy Bedard and T.J. Caouette’s tournament careers than attended Woodstock.

Do this year’s mid-winter classics pack that sort of marquee power? Not a chance. But then, history shows us that a down year is the time to expect something special, even supernatural.

In this star-starved environment, it’s almost guaranteed that a forgotten, 5-foot-4 freshman guard will knock down four 3-pointers in a row and give her team a puncher’s chance. You can count on a JV lifer to rescue his heavily favored squad with a flurry of free throws after two starters foul out.

Somebody’s half-court prayer will be answered at the buzzer. Someone’s 25-year-old record will disappear as quickly as Elvis left the building in his final Maine appearance at the ACC.

Better watch out, you self-assured, undefeated, top-seeded types who’ve won every game in the cozy nook you call your home gymnasium. In such a time as this, to paraphrase a certain Chia Pet-haired fight promoter, Augusta and Bangor provide an ideal atmosphere in which somebody’s O’ has gotta go.

And so what if conventional wisdom reigns? Who cares if final scores, like traditional vacation week temperatures, struggle to get out of the 30s? There’s still no better bargain than 100 hours of hoop across eight days.

No cooler family reunion, either. Here, you actually smile when you cross the path of somebody you haven’t seen since last year’s Class C championship doubleheader.

You must also smile when you consider what this tournament means to people.

There’s Bob Butler, the retired school administrator and renowned record keeper who hasn’t missed one whistle of a Western B-C-D tournament game since 1950.

There’s Robin Colcord, the namesake of the Western C girls’ tournament MVP award. Every year, the trophy presenter reminds us that Colcord eyed every minute of the 1984 regional tournament, two weeks before he died of cancer.

There’s a woman from Bucksport who relied on the kindness of strangers to shuttle back-and-forth from the Auditorium every day. Probably still does. No kids or grandkids on any team. Just wouldn’t miss it for the world.

There’s the kid whose mom used to drop him off at the civic center door every day at 8:45 a.m. with $20 in his pocket and say she’d be back at 10 that night to pick him up, only to repeat the ritual the next day. And the next. And the next.

He considers himself blessed to be part of the magic again this year.

Let the enchantment begin.

Kalle Oakes is a staff writer. His e-mail is [email protected].