Sunday morning, as I was packing my bags and preparing to check out of my hotel room just outside of Raleigh, North Carolina, I was planning out my upcoming week with my fiancee, Emily. “If we win today, then the next round is on Friday and Sunday in Detroit,” I was saying. “I’d have to miss work on Friday and then we’d have to see about flights for Sunday night or Monday.” Since Emily is a teacher at a Catholic elementary school, she had the week off for Easter and said, “Well if it works out, I’ll be able to come since I don’t have school until the following Tuesday.” I would still have to worry about making up the hours at work and about finding a hotel, a flight, and some means of transport to get to the games. But that was all still very far away.

After a crowded Easter mass and a nice brunch at an Italian restaurant, we drove to the RBC Center. I watched the game from behind the Davidson bench, and then once it was over, I headed back to the media room where I met up with several other reporters who usually cover the Hoyas. We were all upset, and one of them said, “You know, if it weren’t for the seniors, I’d kind of be glad. Means I don’t have to travel to Detroit.” Despite all the headaches that traveling to Detroit would entail for me, I couldn’t agree. I just wanted Roy to play in another game.

Then we headed to the interview room where Davidson head coach Bob McKillop was about to begin his press conference along with Jason Richards and Stephen Curry. I sat and listened while they were asked about the key plays, the fans, and “Sweet Caroline.” Then it was announced that the Georgetown locker room was now open, so I decided to go. I had originally thought that the Hoya locker room was the last place on earth I would like to be, but after sitting in that press conference, I knew I had been mistaken.

It was a horrible scene in the GU locker room, as I saw eleven players about as sad as you could imagine with cameras and microphones in the faces of a few especially unfortunate. I tried to listen to Patrick talk, but he was being very quiet, and I didn’t need to push my way in. Instead I shook hands with Tyler Crawford for an incredible four years, and headed back to the press room.

There, Coach Thompson was about to speak, alongside Roy and Jonathan. All year, Coach’s first word when entering the press conference has been, “Questions.” But today, he felt obligated to have an opening statement:

It’s disappointing. I guess I just want to say - I’ve got a very special senior class. I’ve got a class that is Georgetown basketball, and they have done so much for this program. They are this program. They have done so much for me.

You know, I just feel like I’ve let them down. It’s a group of guys that have done any and everything that I’ve asked them for four years. They’ve put this program on their back, put us in a position where we can possibly have success in the future. I just feel bad for these guys. I feel bad for these guys. We lost to a terrific team today, but I can’t - I just feel bad for my seniors.

After that heart-wrenching opening statement, I thought that it was only fair that the players have their say. A few reporters had some questions about the game, but I needed to hear the seniors respond to what Coach Thompson had just said. This is what Jon had to say:

No, we don’t think Coach let us down. Coach did everything he could to put us in a good position so that we could better ourselves. It’s not just me and Roy that did all the work - Tyler Crawford, Patrick Ewing, Jr., even Jeff Green who’s not here, all of the work they put in. It was a struggle every day and we were all in it together.

And Roy:

Coach Thompson, he’s coaching, but ultimately we are out there playing. I just want to thank him for everything he’s done for us. He brought the program back, but ultimately, we lost today. But he did a great job coaching today.

After that and some more questions directed at the two seniors and at Coach Thompson, I left and got in the car for the long drive home. I gave Emily a copy of the box score, and after looking at all the numbers, we still couldn’t figure out how Davidson won.

We were pretty sad all the way home, including a stop at Burger King where we ran into some members of the GU Pep Band buying food to take back to the bus. Even the sign for Bullocksville wasn’t as funny as it was on the way down.

We were just beginning to put the loss behind us when we arrived at the Key Bridge. Right in front of us was a big charter bus, getting into the left turn lanes to get onto M Street / Canal Road. We had a feeling we knew who was on that bus, so as we both made the turn, we followed it past the Exxon at the bottom of the Exorcist Steps as it turned right at the blue and gray sign that read “HOYA SAXA.” We drove past and made a U-turn by the Southwest Quad as the bus pulled into McDonough. Then we headed back to Canal Road, and I honked the horn a few times as Emily rolled down the window and yelled, “We love you, Hoyas!” to the team before she started to cry again.

I don’t know if any of them heard her, but at 11:15 at night on the saddest of all Easters, we hoped we could bring a little light to the group of young men getting off of the bus with their heads down, hidden beneath gray hooded sweatshirts.