Every game has been this way for us, every game. They're upset, but we drew our own fate, we finished where we had to go on the road to play, and we didn't do it.

This could easily be the season for us, and we're sure it is. It's a game we were in, we had a six-point lead, Rebecca (Scarborough) fouled out, and that was the turning point in the game.

It definitely hurt us in the playoff picture, but I still feel we're capable of beating anyone as well as anybody else at any time.

It's a very crushing loss for us because it's between 4-4 and 3-5 in the conference. I blame it on myself for the decisions I made.

The freaking randomness is what wears on you, the difference between life, death, and horrible injury sometimes as slight as stooping to tie your bootlace on the way to chow, choosing the third shitter in line instead of the fourth, turning your head to the left instead of the right. Random. How that shit does twist your mind. Billy sense the true mindfucking potential of it on their first trip outside the wire, when Shroom advised him to place his feet one in front of the other instead of side by side, that way if an IED blew low through the Humvee Billy might lose only one foot instead of two. After a couple of weeks of aligning his feet just so, tucking his hands inside his body armor, always wearing eye pro and all the rest, he went to Shroom and asked how do you keep from going crazy! Shroom nodded like this was an eminently reasonable question to ask, then told him of an Inuit shaman he’d read about somewhere, how this man could supposedly look at you and know to the day when you were going to die. He wouldn’t tell you, though; he considered that impolite, an intrusion into matters that were none of his business.

She worked out in the weight room a lot last summer and was probably the only one who put in work this summer. Her play is all-out hustle all the time.