March 26, 2008

by Clare Lochary, Lacrosse Magazine Online Staff

To write this column, I'm going to have to admit a past mistake - I missed one of last season's defining lacrosse moments. I didn't see Albany goalie Brett Queener break his stick over this knee after getting stuffed by Cornell's John Glynn in overtime in the quarterfinals.

Well, that's not entirely true. I saw Queener make a motion after the goal was whistled good, but it was an indistinct blur to me. My eye went straight to Glynn, who briefly raised his arms in celebration before his teammates ecstatically flattened him into the turf.

During post-game interviews, Glynn was electric with joy. You could have jumpstarted a car battery off John Glynn that day. They could have powered the lights at Princeton Stadium with the energy coursing off him.

By contrast, Queener was too upset to speak to the press afterwards, and his teammates Tyler Endres and Frank Resetarits were crying so hard they had trouble getting out their answers.

Glynn and Queener came to mind after I returned home from a weekend down in North Carolina, where I watched a lot of college lacrosse (covering the UNC's women's key win over Duke) and basketball (watching the first and second rounds of the NCAA Division I men's tournament as a fan). I saw the Davidson-Georgetown upset, but after the final buzzer sounded, my eyes went to Hoya senior guard Jonathan Wallace instead of dazzling Wildcats sophomore Stephen Curry, who scored 30 points to lead his team to victory.

The loser, not the winner, caught my attention. (Full disclosure: I am a Georgetown alum.)

Wallace, who leads the nation in career starts, had played 136 games for Georgetown. And no more. He was done. Even from the cheap seats, you could see something change in his face, like someone blew out a candle behind his eyes.

The reason why sports are so great, especially for kids, is that they are the human experience compressed. Luck counts for something, but preparation counts more. Follow the rules. You win some; you lose some.

But when those lessons play out in real time, things are less crystallized. You exceed your quarterly benchmarks at work and a while later your bonus check arrives. Windows of opportunity close, but you experience them as gradual realizations, not sudden-death situations. No one blows a whistle to punctuate your successes and your failures.

What we call games are a heightened version of life, so it's natural to mourn the losses. The conclusion of a season or a career has even greater finality. I had professional distance from the Cornell-Albany quarterfinal, but I felt like the worst kind of rubbernecker at the Davidson-Georgetown game. It's sort of gross to witness the death of someone else's dream. I stood and clapped as the stunned Georgetown team filed off the court in Raleigh, but my weak sound was lost in the rafters of the RBC Center.

Wallace was the last one to disappear into the tunnel. I left the arena, dropped my ticket to the evening game in the parking lot and drove away as fast as I could.

Queener and Glynn and Curry are luckier than Wallace, because they still have games left to play. Curry has emerged as this year's March Madness darling.

Queener, granted an additional year of NCAA eligibility in the offseason, posted 11 saves in Albany's 10-2 stunner over No. 11 Princeton on Friday, breathing new life into the Great Danes' 1-5 season.

Cornell is 5-1, and picked up its third one-goal win and second overtime victory against Yale on Saturday. Glynn leads his team in ground balls (30), assists (8) and faceoffs (28-of-46).

Play on, guys. It won't last forever. And it will hurt like hell when it ends, but it's worth it.