By 10 p.m., Argentina had beaten the U.S. men in basketball. There wasn't much in the way of excuses. The Argentines were simply better. Imagine saying that in 1992. Forty-five minutes later, Marion Jones and Lauryn Williams fumbled an exchange between the second and third legs of the women's 400-meter relay.

Williams juggled the baton. The heavily favored Americans didn't finish last. They didn't even finish. The loneliest woman on the planet Friday was LaTasha Colander. She was supposed to run the anchor leg.

So this is how heroes go. Not slowly, proudly and with resolution. But quickly and shockingly. It was as if someone opened the gallows door, and everyone's feet fell through.

The U.S. can't win all the time, but rarely do we lose like this.

"I think a lot of American fans still think it's 1992," said U.S. assistant basketball coach Greg Popovich, referring to the original (and please, from now on, the only) Dream Team. "Where we can show up and win by 40."

Take out the "by 40" part, Coach, and you'd have it right.

"My biggest concern is that these (players) are going to get criticized because they didn't win the gold."

Yeah, well, stinks for them. To whom much is given, much is expected.

Ultimately, the men didn't lose the gold for the first time in the pro era because they were selfish, egotistical Me-Men, even though most of them are. They lost it because the rest of the world plays the sort of basketball that would get creamed in the NBA but wins championships everywhere else.

You can't expect a bunch of millionaires on summer vacation to take seriously the nuances of the international game. Even if they did, it's complex enough they couldn't grasp it and put it to their advantage in the few weeks they have to prepare.

When they were allowed to roam the Olympic playground, as they were in the quarterfinals against Spain, the U.S. guys were fine. The minute someone slowed them, they were lost. So they lost. We'll see what kind of dignity and insides they have today, playing for third best.

Meanwhile, Marion Jones had the worst professional day of her life. Only Jones knows how much she might have liked to shine at these Games. Given the way she has been bruised, battered and BALCO-ed - was Jones found guilty of anything? Why, I don't think she was - a couple of gold medals Friday would have been sweet validation. Of something.

She bombed out in the long jump, finishing fifth. Still, the relay was all but a done deal. "Ours to win" was how teammate Angela Williams put it. The U.S. women zoomed to an easy win in the qualifier and had the best time in the world this year.

Jones ran the second leg, the youngster Lauryn Williams the third. Because of the staggered start, it was hard to tell where the U.S. team stood after 200 meters, when Jones lunged the baton at Williams.

"Stop! Wait! Hold up!" was what Jones recalls yelling at Williams, who had left too soon. Timing ruined, Williams fumbled the baton. She ran another 20 meters or so, then realized it was hopeless, and stopped.

And that was it for Marion Jones' year. The Bengals did better in 2002.

"When I woke up this morning, this is not how I thought the day would end," said Jones. It couldn't have ended any worse if Jones were Wile E. Coyote and the anvil were landing on her head. At least she'd have gotten to eat some birdseed.

Jones laughed, then cried. Cried the way veteran track scribes and Marion-watchers said they'd never seen her cry. She chose to rip the media as well, unfortunate but not entirely wrong.

"The media exceeded my wildest dreams (this year), in a negative way," Jones said.

Hard to argue. Guilty of nothing, accused of many things, Jones ran beneath a cloud all year. It all culminated in a downpour of disaster Friday. For her and the boys in shorts. Life ain't fair.

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E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com