By James Parziale

So, the CAA tournament was a whirlwind, a plethora, a smorgasbord, a whatever you want to call it of emotions. Three physically and mentally draining days, but the boys in blue and gold came up with just two wins.

For those non-math majors, two is less than three, the amount of W’s UNC-Wilmingon tallied to get the automatic bid to the Big Dance.

I recall one particluar moment where reality clocked me like a Mike Tyson haymaker. With the Pride trailing, 64-60, a late three-pointer by UNCW’s T.J. Carter nailed the stake through the hearts of all Pride fans and made me want to sob for the fifth time during the course of the 78-67 loss.

The first such moment came while staring at the scoreboard. The Pride was on the bottom-end of a 22-5 barrage – on ESPN, no less – to start the game. The second was after the Pride narrowed the gap to 35-26 only to have John Goldsberry thwart any momentum with a three-ball before halftime. Still, there was hope.

Until the second half started. Before the halftime chilli dog I wolfed down could even begin to give me indigestion, the Pride’s shoddy shot selection and defense took care of that. Down 53-30, reality was tapping me on the shoulder, but I just closed my eyes and stomped my feet.

I surveyed the morbid faces in the student section. Scott, Brian, Mike, Jut, Rory. The whole crew of us looked our dogs had just been shot, and the UNCW starting five were holding the smoking guns. Spirit-fingers Matt was in the back row crying into his shirt. I wish I could have done the same.

Yet, hope is like the stock market: no matter how badly it dwindles, it never completely crashes. So when the Pride went on a 29-9 run, narrowing the gap to 62-59, again, I couldn’t clap. I couldn’t move. There was nothing my mind besides the three points the Pride needed to make my senior dream come true.

 ”Oh my God. Oh my God,” was all I could muster. Its cliche, but it was a roller coaster of emotions. One second I was in a straight away, the next I felt like I was upsidedown and reality was nonexistant.

I wasn’t thinking about anything else besides the Pride’s rampant accent from the abyss.

 There was no recollection of the bias from security guards — six of them perched in our section, scrutinizing our every breath. No time to think about VCU cheerleaders fliping us the bird while their mascot physically assaulted one of our students, only to have security repremand us for standing on chairs. There was not a second to waste because the Pride was about to make all of that moot.

Then Antoine Agudio had a Bill Buckner moment, throwing an errant pass which led to Carter’s three-ball. In a a New York minute the game was over, the time on the clock was just a formality. I crumbled to the floor, with my head in hands and a shirt over my face. My girlfriend put her arms on my shoulders and attempted consoling me. There was no soothing my aching insides.

 The moment was so enthralling, in fact, a photographer from the New York Daily News broached us.

 ”What are your names? I want to use you in a photo?” he said with blatant disregard for the moment.

 ”Sure, whatever,” I said, then started spelling my name.

After he retreated to snap more photos, I was fixated on the clock. I watched it dwindle away the “classy” Southerners -evidently still peeved about the Civil War outcome – chanted at us.

 ”Go home Yankees!” they bellowed before rushing the court and littering the Richmond Coliseum with confetti.

We, on the other hand, retreated to our bus and prepared for the seven-hour hiatus back to Long Island. It was like leaving a funeral. No one knew what to say and everything said sounded awkward.

 It’s taken a few days, but the wound is starting to heal. As much as I hate to admit it, hope is like a pesky cold. No matter how much you try and get rid of it, it lingers.

 And maybe it’s not such a bad thing. The Pride is a lock for the NIT if the at-large bid falls through. Don’t despair, because our bubble hasn’t burst yet?.

James J. Parziale is a former sports editor at the Chronicle, and currently writes for Long Island’s Ultimate Athlete. You can find more of his work at www.sportsbyparziale.blogsport.com and jetsinsider.com. He can be reached at [email protected].