It was madness, alright.

Without realizing it, I found myself completely immersed in basketball fever today. My heart pounding, my knees shaking, I strained my eyes watching the TV hanging above the bar across the room at Ichabod's. It was one of those moments when you realize you're in a moment. I found myself realizing that I believed it all along, that I knew Notre Dame could play with Duke, I knew the Irish had a chance in the game. As I sat there through the second half, during which Notre Dame actually put together a 14-0 run the likes of which the Blue Devils have probably not seen all season, I realized that my feelings this week that Notre Dame would not be overmatched in this game were not simply based on my allegiance to the university. And as the game went on, I got the feeling that a lot of people across the country came to believe. Casey's dad was one of them -- he called her cell phone and asked to speak to me (after calling my parents house and telling them, "Just tell him Ben Howland called," referring to the Pittsburgh coach). He was rooting for Notre Dame, something he's rarely -- if ever -- done in his life and spoke of his plans to go to Lexington, Ky., next weekend for the regional semifinals (assuming, of course, that Pitt wins tomorrow to advance). And he said I had to come with him if Notre Dame won, which I can't do since I'll be in Florida covering spring training.

But Jim's call underscored just what was happening. There were 10 minutes left in the game, and Notre Dame -- a 15-point underdog when the players woke up today -- leading the No. 1 team in the nation.

This is what March Madness is about. It's more than just filling out the brackets in the office pool and watching the underdogs upset the teams expected to go far in the tournament. The NCAA men's basketball playoffs are best when you have a rooting interest, a uniform you know from the last row in the arena, a school you're proud to call your alma mater participating. Last year, when Notre Dame made it for the first time in nine years, I saw little of the first game because of a busy night at work. The second game was played on a Saturday, and I got to the bar to watch the final few minutes. But it wasn't like this year, where coming in I felt we had a chance to reach the Sweet 16, the regional semifinals, two wins in and two wins from the Final Four. And we probably could have done it had we not been given the matchup that pitted us against the No. 1 team in the nation. Not that we didn't make a game of us.

So there we were, nine of us sitting at two tables pushed together, but I talked very little other than relaying to Will across from me what was happening in the event he wasn't watching, or his eyesight prevented him from seeing the details. I felt bad, but as I explained to Jaime earlier, it would likely be Notre Dame's last game of the year. I finished one pint, then another. I swept my plate clean of the seasoned curly fries, but soon the butterflies in my stomach began taking up space that should've gone to my cheeseburger. (It was a large burger, mind you, but I should've eaten more nonetheless.)

But then it happened. Duke didn't go on a 14-0 run of its own, and it didn't come down and hit two straight 3-pointers to take control. It just chipped away, forcing the Irish to miss seven straight shots during one stretch, and hit some baskets here and others there. Soon it was tied, and soon the clock ticked below four minutes ... then inside three ... then two ...

The Irish couldn't convert their shots and Duke grabbed the rebounds. Notre Dame was forced to foul Duke, put them on the free-throw line from where they haven't performed well. But, to Duke's credit, the players hit the shots, and Notre Dame couldn't on the other end.

And that's how it ended. Duke pulls out another one.

But I wasn't disappointed. I wasn't that upset. Nobody thought Notre Dame could even compete in this game, and the Irish not only competed, they controlled it for long stretches. Four years ago, the Blue Devils tore the Irish apart in an early-season tournament in Alaska during Thanksgiving weekend. This time, four time zones east and four months later in the season, Notre Dame proved it belongs on the same floor -- even one in such a "neutral" site as Greenville, S.C., mere hours from Duke's North Carolina campus.

It was a satisfying day, too, because I got to watch the game with eight friends, a sudden, random meeting with Jaime up from Philadelphia and Will down from New York, which was expected. But Elise and Jeremy up from Washington was a surprise, and Jess was there with Katie, a college friend now living in Jersey City. And, of course, Casey came down from J.C. too. And they all understood. Katie and Jess, of course, were interested in the game too, and Will, being the big college basketball fan that he is, watched as well. But the rest of them -- Jaime and Casey in particular -- showed they understood my passion and interest in the game and took it all in stride.

As far as I know, they're all out right now, or planning tonight's festivities. It's a wild night around here, as it is elsewhere, and I look forward to 11 p.m. when, at any minute, I'll be free to join them for another pint.

Or three.