CHAMPAIGN - My nerves were frazzled. My heart was pounding. My body was strained from contorting to see past the bodies in front of me on press row and the Michigan bench.

On the court, the players whizzed by me at breakneck speed. It was impossible to process the action in my head, let alone type coherent notes. How the players managed to keep their composure remains a mystery to me.

With 13.7 seconds left, Daniel Horton raced downcourt and called a timeout. Realizing that I had literally been holding my breath for most of the past five minutes, I typed myself a little reminder:

"Gotta remember to breathe, Matt. Breathe."

As the sold-out Assembly Hall crowd reached ear-shattering decibel levels, I promptly forgot my own advice. My breathing once again ceased while I immediately searched for Horton's spot on the court. I knew the ball was coming to him. Illinois coach Bruce Weber knew the ball was coming to him. The fat guy with the chef's hat in the Orange Krush knew the ball was coming to him. Everyone knew that Daniel Horton would be taking the final shot.

Horton stood near the right wing. The two best Illinois players, James Augustine and Dee Brown, both kept an eye on him.

The inbounds pass went to Dion Harris. Horton came over to set a screen, and then faded toward the 3-point arc. Illinois switched seamlessly. Harris still had the ball, and Horton remained covered. Then Harris dribbled, apparently hopelessly, toward the right corner. For a moment, I focused on Harris. Evidently, so did the Illini.

Because on the other side of the court, Horton was still working to get free. He came off a screen by Graham Brown and popped behind the arc on the left wing. All of a sudden, Harris let loose with a perfect skip pass. Horton caught the ball and prepared to fire.

For the first - and perhaps only - time in my life, the thought flashed through my mind:

Tommy Amaker is an offensive genius.

The play worked, and Horton got the open look he wanted. The shot was on target, but didn't fall. C'est la vie.

On Saturday, Michigan stood toe-to-toe with the heavyweight champion of the Big Ten for 12 rounds. Bloodied and bruised, the Wolverines never surrendered. They responded to every vicious blow with an equally nasty counter-punch and kept the champ on the ropes until the final bell sounded.

But in the end, the conclusion was familiar. Michigan failed to produce the knockout blow, and, as a result, lost by split decision.

After the game, Amaker and the team were as downtrodden as I've ever seen them. And why not? They had to be able to taste it, just as I could. Michigan could have prevented the Illini from amassing an NCAA-best 31-game home winning streak. Michigan could have put itself on the national map by knocking off a top-10 team on the road. Michigan could have finally broken the "can't win a big game" stigma that has haunted it for years. It could have been a landmark victory, a turning point in the ugly recent history of the Michigan basketball program.

Instead, with the rimming-out of Horton's shot, Saturday's game was just the latest example of a familiar pattern for the Wolverines. The close-but-no-cigar, prove-your-talent-but-don't-quite-get-over-the-hump game has been Michigan's staple during the Amaker era.

But there's reason for hope - Daniel Horton. After his performance on Saturday, there remains no doubt in my mind that Horton: 1) is one of the best guards in the nation, 2) deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as Dee Brown and 3) will be playing in the NBA next year.

Look at his performance down the stretch. With less than seven minutes to go, Brown drained his second consecutive trey - thanks to Amaker's ill-advised transition to a zone defense - and gave Illinois a 69-60 lead. Undaunted, Horton responded with two consecutive triples of his own, draining the second one right in Brown's eye. While the rest of the Wolverines' offense stalled in the last few minutes, Horton shined, scoring 12 of Michigan's final 14 points.

In his senior campaign, Horton is at last living up to the promise he showed as a freshman. He's a smart player, with a 2-to-1 assist-to-turnover ratio. He's a deadly shooter, draining 47 percent of his field goals. This year, especially, he's saved his best for crunch time.

All Horton needs is a little help from his friends. In my last column, I discussed the Michael Jordan effect - the Wolverines' tendency to stand around and watch while Horton works his magic. To their credit, that wasn't quite the case Saturday.