...two of the 1,985,354,994 opinions

two CBSsportsline.com writers have dubbed the CAA as a three-bid conference. We'll se.

One and two.

...hanging on by a bubble

So the CAA tournament was a whirlwind, a plethora, a smorgasbord, a whatever you want to call it of emotions. After three physically and mentally draining days, 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-W 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 Hofstra trailing, 64-60, a late three-pointer by UNC-W's T.J. Carter nailed the stake through the hearts of all Hofstra fans and ended the emotional see-saw during the course of the 78-67 loss.

The first rush of anger came while staring at the scoreboard. Hofstra 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 begi giving me indigestion, the Pride's shotty 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 UNC-W 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.

But then that nagging feeling tugs at you. It's 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. I wanted to weep tears of joy. There was nothing on my mind besides the three points Hofstra 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 emotion. 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 Hofstra'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 breathe. No time to think about VCU cheerleaders fliping us the bird while their mascot physically assaulted one Hofstra student, 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, Amanda, put her arms on my shoulders and attempted consoling me. There was no soothing my aching insides.

In fact, the moment was so stuffed with emotion a photographer from the NY Daily News broached us.

"What are your names? I want to use you in a photo I just took of you both," he said with blatant disregard for the moment.

"Sure, whatever," I said.

After he retreated to snap more photos, I was fixated on the clock. I watched it dwindle away as the "classy" Southerners - evidently still peeved about the Civil War outcome - mocked us.

"Go-home-Yankees!" they belowed before rushing the court and litering the Richmond Arena 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.

But those of us who were scarred the most need only to look at that picture of Tom Pecora. 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. We will play again this season.

Our bubble hasn't really burst.

ON DECK: Barry the Great (Idiot), my 15 minutes of Newsday fame and the WBC (Why Bother Caring?)

...the immediate aftermath

So Hofstra lost yesterday, but check out what Newsday had to say about Hofstra's chances to make to NCAAs. More on this later.

On deck: A review and pictures of the trip to the CAAs: The Tournament of Inbreds; why watching Barry Bonds' reality show will kill your brain cells.