Omaha pain

There is a first time for everything. And tonight, June 26th, I am experiencing a first. Tonight is the first time that a University of North Carolina team that I follow has lost a national championship game in my lifetime. So that probably would make tonight's loss in the championship game of the College World Series the most painful Carolina loss of my life. And it is. But not in the normal "Carolina loss" way; somehow, it sucks much worse.

The first time Carolina lost a game that eliminated them from championship contention that I remember was in the 1987 NCAA Basketball Tournament (an elite eight loss to Syracuse). But the first loss that really hurt was in the 1991 Final Four, when the Heels lost to a Kansas Jayhawks team coached by Roy Williams. As a youngster, I naively assumed that making the Final Four meant my team would win the Final Four (typical spoiled Tar Heel fan). Every year since then, with exceptions of 1993 & 2005 championships, every basketball season has ended prematurely in the eyes of this fan. 1998 was probably the worst year, with 1994 close behind. Every lost NCAA Tournament game should have been won; one more game was there to be played. Every early round elimination in baseball was too early. It's not that Carolina should have won the title every year. Instead, I just wanted the Tar Heels to still be playing, to have one more game.

This year's College World Series loss is completely different. Either way, the season ended tonight. Win or lose, everyone goes home. Now, the loss is painful not because there's not one more game; it is painful because it hurts. And I'm not a player, just a fan and alum.

Jonathan Hovis will never put on a Carolina jersey again. Heck, the NCAA's leader in earned run average did not get drafted, so he may never put on any baseball jersey again. Chad Flack, the team's best hitter, made the last out. Mike Cavasinni is still standing on third base. Andrew Miller is wishing he had struck out one more hitter. Daniel Bard wants to stay in the game. And of course, Brian Steed is wishing he had taken his time and made his usual perfect throw to first base.

The season is over, as it was scheduled to be tonight. But this emptiness that accompanies the ending was not supposed to be here. There was supposed to be joy, a Gatorade bath for Mike Fox, and the hoisting of an NCAA Championship trophy. But here we are empty-handed, holding no trophies. Holding on, instead, to the wish for one more game. Holding on, instead, to a dream. Holding our hurt for every player, coach, and fellow fan.

And it hurts.