In the waning moments before the tip-off of the Lady Lions' game Monday, I frantically searched Web sites for a flight -- that is, one going to New Orleans.

First, I checked how much it would cost to fly out of beautiful State College. What do I find? The cheapest flight has a stop and costs $556.

Sorry, I can't afford that kind of money to see the Lions play in the Final Four; I'm not a trust fund, baby.

Next, I search for flights leaving from Philadelphia because it seems as if everyone at The Pennsylvania State University claims they live outside of Philly, and I could easily get a ride there. The cost: $593.

Is this possible? It costs more to fly from the City of Brotherly Love than State College and I'd have to drive about three hours.

Try again.

The last resort was old reliable: a New York City airport.

Only a few weeks ago, on my trip to Las Vegas, I left from John F. Kennedy Airport, so I know the ins-and-outs of city travel. The cost: $342.

Now, that's a possibility, if I can convince someone to drive the four hours because my "BMW 350 Invisible" won't make the journey.

The way I see it, the trip costs about six weeks of donating plasma. It's about $50 a week if you donate twice a week. But my arms might not take too kindly to this decision. I can worry about that later.

Now all I need is for Kelly Mazzante and her teammates to play a sound, fundamental game and make jumpers, those of the three-point variety, and the dream could be realized.

I wanted to believe that this was possible, but taking Penn State to win was like trying to hit a five-team parlay (or a save-your-legs parlay). And, as they say in Vegas, "That's what these casinos are built on." Basically, it's a stupid bet.

There is the tip-off.

Connecticut jumps out early, Penn State battles back to tie it at 8-8, and then Diana Taurasi counters to give UConn a 21-13 lead at the half.

Mazzante, where are you?

Oh, you didn't bother showing up. At least you went 1-for-7 in the first half as Penn State stumbled to an eight-point deficit, which could have easily been 11 if the officials counted Taurasi's shot at the buzzer.

I almost forgot that Mazzante did accomplish something in the first half. She set the NCAA record for most field goals in a career and finished the game with 2,430, surpassing Tennessee's Chamique Holdsclaw's mark of 2,419.

The second half wasn't any better and Mazzante finished the game 5-for-17 from the field, 1-for-8 from three-point range. That's not a good effort from a first-team All-American.

Maybe I am being a little harsh on the two-time Big Ten Player of the Year. She does rank in the top 10 in scoring in women's basketball history, with 2,919 points in her career. And yes, Mazzante is the all-time career leading scorer, man or woman, in the Big Ten.

But where was this in the NCAA tournament?

How do these numbers sound: 3-for-8, 1-for-5 and 2-for-5? Those were the sharpshooter's numbers from downtown in the tournament. And the career 20-point scorer averaged a whopping 14.5 points per game in the tournament.

Mazzante played well in the first-round game against Hampton, scoring a tournament-best 18 points. But the Lady Pirates were simply out-classed in the game. There's a reason why they received the 16 seed, and only once in the history has a top seed lost. Penn State didn't come close to joining the 1998 Stanford team that set that record.

If it wasn't for other players leading the team, there is a strong possibility that the Lions wouldn't have gotten out of the second round. Tanisha Wright put Penn State on her back, scoring 28 points to avoid a disaster and allowing her team to slip past the Hokies, 61-48.

Against the Fighting Irish, Mazzante played her best game, but still shot only 6-for-16. I could score the go-ahead basket in transition, like Mazzante did.

Well, I could have in my younger days, when I could move up and down the court a little easier.

But the star of the game was the unheralded Jess Brungo. She did all the little things that help a team win, including playing defense and rebounding, not to mention dropping 20 points in the game.

My lasting memory of Mazzante is going to be of her sitting on the bench after the final seconds ticked off the clock in Hartford, Conn., with her face down buried in a towel.

So now, the dream is over. No trip to New Orleans. No four days of craziness and fun on Bourbon Street. No $342 plane ticket.

And for that, there is sadness.

Well, at least my arms, if they could talk, would say, "Thank you, Kelly Mazzante."