It's still hard to believe that the Wallabies won't be in action tomorrow morning.
Last weekend I wandered around the house and felt I needed to call someone. The experience was surreal. I struggled to sleep and then woke for the All Blacks demise and so finished the most perplexing eight hours of rugby I can recall and the ramifications will be significant.
Failing to meet your own expectations can be a very emotional exercise. But failing to meet the expectations of a sports hungry nation is even more brutal because it's so public.
Drawing from my experience in 1995 when the Wallabies were also eliminated in the quarter-finals by England, the depression following failure is massive.
The expenditure and commitment given to the cause counts for nothing and the subsequent inquisitions are taxing. Passing your supporters in the international terminal as they arrive to watch you play semi-final rugby is a tough gig. Looking expectant people in the eye is difficult. Explaining why is even harder.
In time the reasons why the Wallabies lost last Saturday will be debated and worked over.
Where we could have done better will be determined. Seemingly, the winning and losing of games is restricted to the team and its preparation and on-field performance, but we all should take a moment to reflect our contribution to the shortcomings.
It is always easy to lay and deflect blame and the team will face the music. The media and fans should also consider their contribution to creating an expectation and invincibility that was never truly there.
If you pump people up enough they cannot help but start to believe it.
"Believing your own press" is a truism, and to be fair to the media, the seeding and cultivation of the Wallaby message did little to correct the confidence.
It is an interesting dynamic that a team such as Argentina can play its way into the semi-final of a World Cup on the strength of a restricted but effective game style admittedly boosted by enormous amounts of passion.
The impact of adversity cannot be underestimated in their World Cup preparation.
They have a similar battle to our Socceroos who do a lot of the big-ticket preparations in Europe and not at home. The majority of the Pumas are living in France and Italy and have for some time.
The sheer logistics of mounting a campaign with such a tyranny of distance is mind numbing.
Despite this, their preparation has been far-sighted and calculated.
Many on show against South Africa this weekend played against the Wallabies in 2002 in Buenos Aires.
We won that day but it was tough. Despite their rugby diaspora, the Pumas play with purpose and understanding. Their real plus has been their ability to maintain combinations.
Robbie Deans alluded to it as a reason for New Zealand's demise. Uncertainty in the midfield and back three counteracted the balance and effectiveness of their back row, who've been a fixture in the team.
The Wallabies too have had uncertainty, particularly in midfield where numerous combinations were tried. A lot of headway was managed this year in the forwards as there was consistency in the selection of the pack.
This certainty bred self belief and we got better. Perhaps the same can be said of our backs. While the reason for failure will be laid at the feet of the scrum the reality is that we still had 50 per cent of the possession and man for man a far superior backline in most positions.
People have questioned the non selection of Drew Mitchell and the subtle impacts of this type of non-selection can be far reaching.
Team harmony is easy to get out of kilter. Selection is everything and coaches should spend the majority of their time getting this right. The elite level of our game gives coaches many selection options.
Achieving a confluence of consistency and confidence is a skill. The Argentines and South Africans are on the right track, France are an enigma and England are there because they went back to experience and were simple and directed.
I'm wondering whether this weekend will go to script because nothing could be more shocking than last week.


