Got home Sunday night and the rabbits -- you know what THEY'RE up to -- were scurrying out of the yard. Let's see ... about a week or so ago, that yard was filled with so much snow, I could only see the top half of my dog when she went outside.
Now, it's getting dangerously close to that March smell. I might have caught a bit of it Sunday night, but I immediately tried to shut it out. I thought, "Stay 'tonight' for as long as possible. Tomorrow is the beginning of the end."
Conference seasons are winding down, all these stories are being done about the seniors. These young women will say how much they learned and how fast the time has gone by -- and it always seems way too soon. Every story will make me sad.
So I preferred for Sunday night to just kind of drag out and not make any concession to dawn. To not start the final week of February.
Because Sunday was a special day. I was in Columbia, Mo., to watch Kansas State take on Missouri. The Wildcats are fighting for the Big 12 title. The Tigers are one of those teams -- and there are a handful every year -- that are like 10 total points away from being a really good team sure of NCAA Tournament inclusion.
Sprinkle those points over a few games, and that's how close the Tigers are. But it's also how far away they are. Yet they continue to battle because this is the lesson good coaches teach their players: The only way you really fail is if you stop trying.
That's a hard thing to make peace with if you're an athlete or coach. Because you don't really ever want to make peace with it. You want losses to burn, to motivate. Your bottom line is static: Was today a W or an L?
What is your record? How many points did you have? How many rebounds? How many turnovers?
There aren't statistical measurements of heart or character or discipline or growth or lessons learned or graciousness. It doesn't work that way. It's numbers that speak the loudest, that have the last word.
Now, some folks will say, "Well, duh, that's what it has to be about. Everyone who's involved knows that and accepts it. They are all chasing numbers. It's the tangible, concrete measurement of athletic success."
Absolutely. And the numbers are what propel our stories. They hand us the box scores right after the game, and we start circling numbers. The rebounding margin, the shooting percentages, the free throws, the transition baskets, the points in the paint.
It makes complete sense. And yet there are times I feel strange about the whole thing, in part because I'm not judged by numbers.
There is supposed "competition" in this business. The first to get this or that story, then the various writing contests. Whatever. The former can result in some very bad journalism and the latter is completely subjective.
When a game's over, everybody can write a good story and everybody can write a lousy one. There doesn't have to be one winner and one loser.
For the participants in a basketball game, though, it has to be like that. Which is why Sunday's Kansas State-Missouri game felt so odd, but exhilaratingly so. The Wildcats won 93-90 in double overtime, which put them in sole possession of first place in the Big 12 because Texas lost at archrival Texas Tech.
Yet it seemed like there were two winners because of how Missouri hung in, thanks to senior forward Evan Unrau. We'll go back to numbers again, because they're the simplest way to describe her game Sunday: 40 points, 15 rebounds, four assists and one turnover in 50 minutes.
But the numbers can't say what it felt like to witness this performance. It was one of those where everyone in the building or watching on TV here in Mo-Kan, no matter which team they were cheering for, saw the same thing.
And that was how all the bruises, scrapes, scratches, sweat, sore muscles, hated alarm clocks, tired mornings, tired evenings, withering repetitions, ice packs and bus rides can crystalize for a talented athlete. We use phrases like "in the zone" or "everything's
clicking" ... but it's really this: The game where the body does virtually everything the heart is asking of it. And it was very clear that this was an especially large and demanding heart.
All that mattered to her, though, was that it wasn't enough. Another "almost" game had eluded the Tigers. That's how great players always feel.
The rest of us, though, had the luxury to enjoy her effort. A player who has consistently been very good for a long time but overshadowed because her team hasn't been to the NCAA Tournament the past two years, Unrau showed her immense ability on a day when a lot of people -- at least in this region -- were paying attention and were inspired by her. They aren't going to forget it.
These feelings we can have for players and teams are the part of this sport that you can't clinically distill into RPIs, seedings, brackets and the rigid numbers of March: 64 teams, one and done.
It's actually much bigger than March. You see it in Cal's women, who suffered the heartbreaking loss of beloved teammate Alisa Lewis earlier this season -- and found a way to win a game again.
You see it in Texas A&M point guard Toccara Williams, who has lost 66 games in her career, yet still is racing and creating all over the court with an unending energy and a hopefulness unbowed by won-loss records.
On Saturday, Williams made four free throws in the last 25 seconds to help the Aggies win their second Big 12 game of the season, at Kansas.
You will hear a lot about outstanding players on very good teams from here on out. Other kids -- unless their teams make runs in conference tournaments -- will be away from any spotlight.
It's a numbers game -- in this case, the key number is victories -- and we all understand that. But on Sunday night, I wanted to hold on just a little longer to something that wasn't about numbers.
Unrau lost her father to suicide when she was 7 years old. Williams' father was murdered when she was 8. Both have dealt with a great deal of pain, and yet have become exceptional, caring, intelligent young women -- who also happen to be terrific basketball players.
Wherever you are in this country, if you follow this sport, you know kids like them. Maybe they'll whip up some magic and make it to the Big Dance. But even if you don't find them on your NCAA bracket, remember them when that March smell is in the air.
Mechelle Voepel is a regular contributor to ESPN.com's women's basketball coverage. She can be reached at mvoepel@kcstar.com.