I drank. I swore. I muttered. Wandered (and at times staggered) aimlessly around the house. I felt completely shell-shocked. My head still has the dull throb of last night that no aspirin, acetaminophen, naproxen or ibuprofen can quite remove.
It doesn’t compare to the Elite Eight loss to Villanova, because that was a final loss. A gut-punch of immense proportions. But it was only one loss. Last night the effect felt cumulative
I don’t know what to say at this point. Four games lost by a total of 11 points. Three of them came on a shot in the final second.
It takes a toll. On the fans. On the players. Everyone.
