In, and out.

The shot that could have been heard ’round the world went in, and then it went out.

It wanted to go in; hell, I’m pretty sure all of California wanted it to go in, but it rimmed, only to the delight of Mark Madsens everywhere.

It was the shot that would have made Doug Christie a hero, and a few more million to boot. Instead, we got to see Cheryl Miller harassing Kevin Garnett, possibly the weirdest-looking MVP since last year’s MVP Tim Duncan.

In, and out.

Oh dear, and how delicious it would have been to devour another Lakers-Kings series in the midst of the California melting pot that is UCSB. It’s funny, but I already miss the yelling and the slurs and the misguided ramblings claiming the Lakers to be superior. Yet it never even happened. Can you miss something that never happened? And can a ball travel downwards through a hole, and then inexplicably pop out? I guess I should have taken a magic/miracle class instead of that worthless physics class.

Just when I thought Chris Webber was going to pull a Chris Webber and call a timeout without any timeouts remaining, the ball remarkably fell into his hands with a clear look at the rim and less than a second remaining.

I, and another 39 percent of Isla Vista clenched collectively clenched what we could to assure the ball’s fate was to go through the hoop, but no.

It was the shot that was supposed to cap another miraculous comeback and make Webber the king of Kings. It was the shot that was supposed to be the clinching sign that indeed, it was Sacramento’s year and not the Hall of Fakers’.

Now, I can only place my face in my hands and root for the lesser of two evils in the Western Conference Whatevers.

But the larger issue at hand here is this: Does Webber’s shot change the laws of gravity?

I think it does, because tonight, out of respect for our lost one, the booze will be flowing in, and the booze will be flowing out.

In, and out.