MINNEAPOLIS — The last we saw them, they were riding high, throwing elbows, tossing jackets and, it certainly appeared, muscling their way to a championship. They were joking about war and escalation. They were loose and light, and you had to believe we'd see them again.
Maybe for a game five. Likely for a parade. We'd been conditioned to believe it, and the only moments of doubt had come in the two weeks before. Minnesota wasn't ready to face the thought of the Lynx as anything but champions, and the Lynx obviously weren't either.
They lost, 87-78, to Indiana last Sunday, thus relinquishing their title as reigning queens of the WNBA. They lost, they spoke, they flew back to the Twin Cities, and then they disappeared.
That was not the way to do it.
The Lynx sulked out of town like they'd just disappointed. They hadn't. Maybe they did in the moment, but not in the big picture, and by acting as such, I can't decide who they insulted more: themselves or their fans.
Yes, the players had flights to catch to locales all over the world and new teams to join. They've got to make their real money, after all. And yes, losing in four games to an Indiana team no one imagined would take home a title had to sting. But they had to clean out their lockers. They had to stop by the Target Center, at least. So why not set up a table and talk a bit, once the hurt of the loss dulled a bit and they'd gained some perspective? They could have relived the high moments, even, and reveled in them a bit, because back at home after such a great year, that kind of thing is warranted.
Part of the reason the Lynx's loss seemed so cataclysmic is largely due to the scope of knowledge about the WNBA. The league (and the Lynx's success) is too new for many to be experts on it in a broader sense. They love their team and they follow it, and when it looks so great all season, the logical next step is to assume it'll win a championship, especially when the team itself is so vocally focused on such a goal and taking the steps toward it so convincingly.
But this is sports, people. Ridiculous things happen. The Giants win the Super Bowl. The Kings win the Stanley Cup. The Cardinals win the World Series. With the exception of the Heat, the past year has been a study in underdogs, and so the Fever winning, even winning so soundly, should not have been a shock.
But back to the Lynx. They were surprised, no doubt. Surprised because of their talent, their confidence, their regular-season record. Surprised because they knew they could do it, and then they didn't. A week after their final game, I'm sure the negative feelings have somewhat subsided. I'm sure they're proud. I'm sure they were even somewhat proud that night it all ended, because these women are smart. They see the bigger picture. They know they brought a championship to the Twin Cities for the first time in two decades and that they've been the cities' best sports story in recent years. They know that they're a great team with a bright future. They know better than to discount this.
They know all that, but to the outside world, it sure looked like they slunk out of town as if they'd just been swept in the first round.
After the final loss in Indiana, coach Cheryl Reeve talked about the optimism that's still ahead. The team has just one unrestricted free agent, 42-year-old Taj McWilliams-Franklin, and it will remain intact next season with its three Olympians (Maya Moore, Seimone Augustus and Lindsay Whalen) and 2011 All-Star (Rebekkah Brunson). It will be just as talented and without the target on its back that played a large part in the season ending the way it did.
There are only good things ahead, and Reeve said it. But she said it when most eyes were trained on the loss, on the Fever, on anything but next season. It's the kind of message worth repeating when everyone is listening, when it's less a condolence and instead a fact. It's the kind of message worth repeating until next May, for that matter.
This is a team starved for attention, a league craving more of the spotlight. The Lynx are becoming more relevant with every season, and theirs this year was a compelling story. So why end it early, when there was another layer to explore? Why not come back, however sad, and talk? Tell us what it's like a day, two days, three days later. Tell us what you're doing this offseason, where you're going. Let us all gasp when you say you'll be playing in China, Australia, Prague, wherever, in a matter of days. Tell us how excited you are for next year to give it another shot, how thrilling it is to get another chance to play with this talented group.
There was no need to end the conversation early, not when this team has so much to be proud of.
Something, anything would have been better than this. But at least there's always next year to do it right.
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