The season of dreams comes to a jarring halt long before any of us wanted it to.
This is not instant analysis and it may not be terribly good writing, but it is a fairly accurate assessment of how I fear most of us are feeling this morning.
I wasn't ready for this to be over. In my head, this season went far longer than this. I'm not sure where I thought it would end, but it wouldn't be in St. Louis, not in the round of 32. It would end somewhere, maybe in Houston, but not here, and not now.