The Best Laid Plans...

As both Geoff and I are traveling today, admittedly in different time zones, we don't have time to do a full post-mortem on last night. I do want to mention one thing that has been gnawing at me for the past twelve hours, even as I tried to sleep.

Last night was another visceral reminder that sports are, in many ways, the purest reminders of the whims of fortune and the ledger sheet's thin line that separates victory from defeat. A full range of emotions were encompassed in last night's game, from dismay, to shock, to anger, to faith, to hope, to redemption, to despair, to earnest steadfastness, and finally to agony. There's the old story about you never see the shot that kills you, but as that rebound flew back into the slot in front of Bryan Hogan, I knew Michigan was finished, and I was, as always, powerless in the moment. We live vicariously through what might be, and we take the pain with the joy because no pain can hurt as much as sheer joy that one experiences in triumph. But, both sides of the coin are there, so we can recognize each for what they are, diametrically opposed, yet forever intertwined.

So we thank you maize-clad men for the ride you have given us this year. We salute your effort and know that you'll live on in memory, though perhaps not in the way you had hoped. As fans, we'll brood over the summer, we'll think of what might have been, and we'll come back next October. Because next year might be the year.