Not so shocked that he didn't think to step back far enough to release a three-pointer. But the ball glanced off the rim as the game ended.
"Actually, I'm glad Chucky missed," Valvano said. "I don't think I could have taken another five minutes."
That was as close to a joke as Valvano has been able to manage the last two weeks. Innocent or guilty, he is clearly suffering.
"Usually I talk to my wife [Pam] when things go wrong," he says. "But she's so upset about all this, I can't talk to her. So, I just go crazy. I sit here, and I think that there's going to be a book going out all over the country that says I have no integrity.
"There's no place I can go to escape it, and nothing I can do to stop it. It's going to happen. I never thought after 22 years in this profession that my whole life would be changed by a manager and a writer whom I've never met. The funniest thing about it is all the times I've had people come to me and want to write a book, and I said no because I figured, Who wants to read a book about me? Guess I had that one wrong.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience, that I'm floating around watching all this. I'm not dealing with it well at all. I used to be the guy who wanted to talk to everyone. Now, I only want to be with close friends. This isn't temporary, either. I think this will change me for good."
Since N.C. State won the NCAA championship in 1983, Valvano has become a very rich man through his off-court ventures, and has talked often to friends about leaving State. Would he be interested if the Los Angeles Clippers were to offer him a job?
"I'm just going day-to-day," he says. "Right now, my players are my salvation, and I'm not going to do anything to hurt what they're accomplishing under very difficult circumstances."