Bewildered would be one way to describe my reaction upon reading the game story in The Day recounting Stonington High School's season ending loss to Lauralton Hall in last Friday's state girls' lacrosse quarterfinals.

Really bewildered would be another.

Verbatim: "Things weren't looking particularly rosy for Stonington at halftime Friday afternoon, having been outplayed by Lauralton Hall and trailing by four goals. The Bears' prospects seemed even worse when four players, including two starters, left to prepare for the junior prom."

Holy Self-Indulgence, Batman.

Abandoning your team at halftime of a state tournament game?

Maybe this is why I frequently refer to the words of writer Anne Lamott, who wrote rather famously once that society is "deteriorating faster than I can lower my standards."

I reached out to Stonington coach Jeff Medeiros, hoping for some insight/clarity on the subject. Medeiros, a veteran coach who runs a successful program, respectfully declined to speak for the record.

I get that many issues facing us here in the roaring 2000s are nuanced and not as crystalline as the days when we walked to school uphill in 10 feet of snow killing grizzly bears with our loose leaf notebooks. Gray areas abound.

But some truths I still hold to be self-evident, namely that commitment, by definition, requires fortitude, sacrifice and loyalty, even in the face of inconvenience.

Among the quibbles I have with the decision to abandon your team begins with the location of the game. It was at home. There was no long bus ride home after the game, thus delaying prom preparation another hour. The young women in question would have been required to stay at the field for about another 45 minutes of real time after halftime to finish the game. Short ride home. Let the preparations commence. In the cosmic blueprint, 45 minutes doesn't amount to the same hill of beans Bogart mentioned in "Casablanca."

Then there's the fundamental difference between the junior prom and senior prom. (And there is a difference.) The junior prom is nothing more than a chance to dress up and be with friends. The senior prom clearly holds more cachet — it's what we mean when we call it "The Prom" — with all the pomp and finality that late senior year carries.

I'm not saying I'd have condoned leaving for the senior prom either. But at least it's a conversation.

Really, though, this is an issue of choice. And in my own idealistic, myopic sphere, I'd have told those four kids they have a choice. Either stay home and get ready for the prom or play the full game with their teammates. There is no option C. Mommy and daddy might have huffed and puffed about that, sure. But I'd rather indulge parental sniveling than completely cave. The idea that this was presented as an "and" and not an "or" speaks to the decaying ways we are teaching our kids anything.

It has been suggested that the CIAC bears some culpability here for scheduling a quarterfinal at 1:30 p.m. on a Friday. Believe me: I can find ways to blame CIAC for everything short of climate change. But in this case? That's a cop out tethered to an unwillingness to have a hard conversation about commitment and choices.

Because that's what this is about: a hard conversation about commitment and choices.

I wrote a piece last week about how this time of year produces rhythms of finality that ignite, quite literally, emotions of a lifetime. Parents and kids struggling to cope with abrupt endings academically, socially and athletically.

And now there's this. Four juniors self-indulgently abandoning their teammates in the biggest game of the year — and quite possibly the last game ever for the seniors.

Maybe this can serve as a cautionary tale for spring coaches next year. The first day of practice ought to carry with it a conversation about commitment. You are with us or you're not. Your choice.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro