WORCESTER, Mass. – Shawn Walsh’s NCAA Tournament ended with a few harsh words, a couple of animated gestures, and that premature waddle across the ice that referees bestow upon coaches who’ve said too much, too loud, too offensively or too often.

Ejected.

A half-hour later, Walsh talked about that ejection, and how it related to his team’s accomplishments.

And time after time, in interview after interview, Walsh kept saying the same word.

“Inconsequential.”

Later, Walsh casually dropped a bombshell that put that word in context: If the Bears had advanced, they would have done so without him. He’s undergoing surgery to prepare him for kidney cancer treatments later this week. And that’s not negotiable.

On Saturday, Walsh used the word to refer to hockey:In a game of hundreds of possessions and tons of scoring chances, the fact he made an early exit from his team’s 3-1 quarterfinal loss to Boston College really didn’t affect a thing.

The Bears, he pointed out, already trailed by two goals. They’d not been able to solve BC goalie Scott Clemmensen.

And time had nearly run out.

After the game, and after the Bears had joined their coach in the dressing room, Walsh told a team devoid of stars how far they’d come.

The Bears, who placed no players on the two Hockey East All-Star teams, and didn’t put a freshman on the All-Rookie team, either, had played even with the league champs for nearly 47 minutes, and had a shot at a win until the final two minutes. The Eagles roster contained six league all-stars and the conference’s rookie of the year.

“I just told them how proud I was of them, and how well we played tonight,” Walsh said. “We really played a good game. I said, ‘Let’s not dwell on the end, because it was inconsequential.'”

That word again.

To put that word in context, there are some things you ought to know.

Shawn Walsh has one huge reason to believe that a lot of things the rest of us make a big deal over are relatively … inconsequential.

Like this: Walsh, who has spent the year privately addressing and publicly ignoring kidney cancer, has reached a crucial point in his treatment.

He didn’t talk about it before Saturday night’s loss, but afterward, he casually told a few reporters that no matter what had happened, the game would have been his season finale.

“I didn’t want to tell the team, but [I knew]. That even if we won, I was not going to be able to go to the Final Four,” Walsh said.

This week, there is a medical procedure planned. Walsh describes them as “preparation.”

The layman would call it “major surgery.”

And Walsh admits it’s something he’s concerned about.

“Well, it’s important, now,” he said, explaining that a Black Bear win wouldn’t have been enough reason to change his schedule.

“I’ve gotta. … It’s fish or cut bait time, health-wise,” Walsh said. “And timing-wise, I need to get this done and give myself the best chance to beat this and be back coaching next year.”

Now, re-read that last sentence. Closely. Slowly.

Those words may amount to Walsh’s first public acknowledgement of the stark health reality he faces. There is no bravado there.

It may be the first time he’s admitted to the rest of us that the disease that lurks within him is the biggest obstacle standing between him returning to the NCAA tourney next year. It’s probably as close as Walsh has ever come, publicly, to saying the word “If.”

The procedure he faces? It’s designed to “de-bulk” remaining tumors under his breastplate. A lung is involved. Walsh chose not to get specific about how doctors actually plan to “de-bulk” the tumors.

“They’re gonna take care of it,” Walsh said. “The less tumor growth you have, the better chance you’ve got for the stem cell transplant to work perfectly. And that’s what we want.”

The players, of course, were disappointed with the loss. Niko Dimitrakos, for one, wasn’t too impressed with the penalty call that led to Walsh’s outburst.

That call, for the record, put the Bears in a huge hole. They already trailed by one. The penalty also put them down two men.

“It just feels like somebody stabs you in the back,” Dimitrakos said. “The calls might have been penalties, but you don’t put any team down two men with two and a half minutes to go, and basically hand the game over to BC.”

But Walsh? After a few minutes to cool off and put things in perspective he chose to credit the Eagles.

“It was more disappointing than anything. I expect the same thing out of everybody who’s involved in the game,” Walsh said, possibly intimating that the official involved didn’t make a call he thought lived up to that standard.

Or possibly not.

“That’s life,” Walsh said. “Life goes on.”

At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

In a perfect world, where a 45-year-old coach and father and husband is supposed to be planning barbecues and recruiting trips, not penciling cancer treatments and surgery plans into his day-planner.

But on Saturday, despite Walsh’s trademark upbeat spin and quick wit, a different feeling permeated the hallways of Worcester’s Centrum Centre.

And the loss had nothing to do with it.

The unspoken “if” was everywhere. In every question. In every handshake offered to the coach whose team had just been defeated. In every heartfelt offer of “Good luck.”

And, sometimes, in the answers Walsh offered.

Like one of the last he gave before bowing out, and heading to the dressing room one more time.

The question dealt with life lessons, and what he’d tried to teach his team in an adversity-filled year.

“Stay positive,” Walsh said. “Fight. Work. Don’t let things get you down. Whatever cards you get dealt, if you deal with it with a strong attitude, you’ll be stronger.”

Then Walsh was asked if the lessons sunk in.

“In a small way I hope I toughened them up a little bit,” he said, before turning the question back onto himself.

“We grew a lot.”