DAYTON, Ohio — All the sweet dreams about the littlest David lugging his slingshot to Louisville and aiming it between the eyes of the biggest Goliath?

All gone now.

And maybe that’s a good thing. For Manhattan, for Emmy Andujar and Ashton Pankey, and for Cinderella lovers everywhere.

Because let’s face it, if the Jaspers, 74-64 losers Tuesday night, couldn’t beat 16-17 Hampton in a First Four matchup of No. 16 seeds in the NCAA Tournament, it means they were saved the humiliation of a lifetime against Kentucky. Unless John Calipari had Willie Cauley-Stein and Karl-Anthony Towns blindfolded.

Manhattan, one year removed from scaring the wits out of Rick Pitino and Louisville, was the team with NCAA Tournament stage fright, jittery city slickers stumbling on potholes of their own making, while Hampton, a team out of the MEAC that hadn’t been to the Big Dance in four years, oozed with swag and played to win right off the jump.

Steve Masiello was obsessed with making sure his Jaspers dare not look ahead to Kentucky, but they played as if they were anyway.

“I think we might have wanted it a little too much instead of just relaxing,” Masiello said. “That’s what this tournament does to you. … It can change your identity. …. It’s probably the biggest stage in collegiate sports, if not all sports. And this tournament can do things to you. You think when you’re there before, you should be ready for it. And we weren’t.”

If you are going to show up as The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight (6-for-25 from Riverdale), you better impose your will on defense, but Manhattan left the Pirates with too many good looks. Someone named Quinton Chievous, a 6-foot-6, 215-pound senior playing much bigger, had a double-double by halftime. Someone named Deron Powers had six assists.

The Jaspers struggled to run their offense. The shot clock would run down and then the shot would inevitably be missed. Not exactly your Holzman Knicks.

They clanged from the free-throw line (19-for-34). There was a lane violation on a missed Hampton free throw. Big man Pankey (1 point at intermission) had a night to forget. He had plenty of company.

“They obviously wanted it more than us,” Andujar said.

Somehow, after a combined 14 minutes from the foul-plagued Pankey and Andujar (six turnovers), their deficit was only 38-31 at the half.

Inside his locker room, Masiello, The Prince of Passion, desperately needed to find one last way to tap into the emotion of his beloved players while his mother and girlfriend waited anxiously in the stands for a fairy-tale ending.

“We’re not us,” Masiello told his team. “We’re not playing our brand of basketball. You’re gonna get to this point, this stage, and change, and not be us? I don’t mind not getting good results, but be who you are, don’t compromise who you are.”

And here came the Jaspers. The press began working. RaShawn Stores began driving to the basket, playing with no fear. Stores fed Pankey for a lay-in and it was 46-45 for Hampton.

“I thought we could win it ugly,” Masiello said.

He thought wrong.

“I’m proud of you,” Masiello told his team afterward. “If you would have told me four years ago we would have done what we’ve done with this group, I would have taken it in a second.”

A Manhattan victory, and the Rocky Balboa inside all of us would have gotten to shout:

Buster Douglas knocked out Mike Tyson.

The Jets beat the Colts in Super Bowl III.

The USA hockey team beat the Russians at Lake Placid.

Do you believe in miracles? YES!

To wit: The Miracle Mets.

Man 0’ War’s only loss came to a 100-1 underdog fittingly named Upset.

Cassius Clay (Muhammad Ali) stopped Sonny Liston.

Then Ali over George Foreman in Zaire.

The Super Bowl XLII Giants ruined the Patriots Perfect Season.

Villanova engineered The Perfect Upset against Georgetown.

Jim Valvano and N.C. State shocked Phi Slamma Jama.

Masiello would have been confronted with these options:

Remind everyone that the Kentucky players put on their shorts one leg at a time (we think).

Trot out the old line about Kentucky having McDonald’s All Americas, Manhattan has a bunch of guys who eat at McDonald’s.

Ask Bill Belichick, his favorite coach, to send someone over to deflate Kentucky’s balls.

Forfeit. Which would never have been an option, of course, for the fighter that lives inside Masiello. Which nevertheless might have been the wisest option of all.