Imagine you're a sophomore in high school. Mostly you hang out with your friends, watch porn and play way too many video games.
You're a good-looking dude, but you're an underclassman. People naturally ignore you.
But one day, this smoking-fine senior, someone you've secretly crushed on since she "matured" faster than other girls in middle school, starts randomly chatting it up with you.
One thing leads to another, and three weeks later you and this chick are doing an amateur pas de deux.
You and red-hot haven't hooked up.
You haven't even talked outside of school until she drops a bombshell and invites you to prom.
She makes you some phony invitation and teases you with a juicy kiss on your corner lip, promising an experience you'll never forget.
Stoked, you rush and tell all your friends.
Amazingly, it turns out a bunch of your buddies also got prom invites from her clan of mean girls.
On Prom Night, you all meet at an over-priced restaurant and secretly pass booze under the table.
Everyone's having a great time. Your date starts to whisper sweet-nothings into your ear.
You can't believe your luck. You know everything is happening too fast but that doesn't stop you from trying harder.
After dinner, everyone crams into a tacky, juiced-up Excursion limo.
More teasing, more drinking.
The radio's blasting some Ke$ha jam and even though you hate the song, you aren't even fazed. You are winning.
Slipping into euphoria, you hardly realize you have no idea where you are.
The limo pulls into some unrecognizable lot and the girls say they have one last surprise for everyone.
You're amped. Overwhelmed and naive, you think you've closed the deal.
Everyone gets out of the limo and the ladies tell you and your friends to get close for a picture.
It starts to sink in. As the booze drifts you in and out of consciousness, you realize you were in over your head.
Suddenly, out of no where, a group of eight stag, douche bag seniors start chucking eggs and dog s*** at you.
Laughing and crying hysterically, the boys and your dream dates speed off into the limo and go to prom.
Now, imagine going to school Monday, seeing the same a-holes who punked you and then having to take the SAT's.
Would you even top Tebow's score?
That was the Gators baseball team Monday night: stunned, heart-broken, embarrassed, bewildered, humiliated.
Name a depressing adjective and the Gators probably felt it, looked it after blowing a one-run lead with four outs to go to in the crucial Game 1 of the College World Series Finals.
With SportsCenter highlights on a loop, the Gators were forced to relive the Manic Monday like a reoccurring nightmare.
They never had a chance.
The NCAA should've handed South Carolina the trophy Tuesday night without ever playing the game.
Florida's body language transformed into a sick mixture of Jay Cutler and DeMarcus Cousins, and, even when Zunino smacked a homer to cut the deficit with five innings to play, the Gators were still thinking about the why from the day before.
They blew it. Some will say they choked.
But they'll be back.
Their real Prom will come soon enough.
