Mike Krzyzewski lived out one of the cruelest of life’s lessons this past weekend: Everything that ends, ends badly, otherwise it wouldn’t end.
K, as you may have heard, is in the latter stages of a year-long farewell tour, the by-now-well-choreographed last dance where an aging legend gets one last turn on the stage. Despairing, nostalgic friends and begrudgingly admiring foes alike pay homage to the legend. The rest of us start figuring how long the icon has been a part of our lives — a decade, since childhood, forever — and try to come to terms with sports’ final message: nothing lasts forever.