Terps: Back from the dead

They were dead after losing at home to Wake Forest 18 days ago, saddled with their fourth loss in five games that left them with a 14-11 record.

There was nothing to discuss. There was only a sense of resignation about them and next season to consider.

The ubiquitous bubble of February was a distant dream for the Terps, a courtesy, really, that was afforded them because of their tradition.

No, the Terps were not going anywhere, except possibly to the NIT, and even the We’re No.66 Tournament has certain requirements that the team was in jeopardy of not satisfying.

Fifteen days after the Wake Forest game, in Greensboro, N.C., the Terps completed one of the astounding recoveries of their storied history, claiming their first ACC championship in 20 years that guaranteed their 11th consecutive appearance in the NCAA tournament.

Gary Williams, who coaches in a puddle of sweat, in a wrinkled suit that reveals his turbulent nature, conceded the obvious in the afterglow of the overtime victory against Duke.

“I didn’t expect [an ACC championship] this year, to be honest,” he said.

No one expected the Terps to last beyond the first round in Greensboro. There were too many nationally ranked opponents in their path. The Terps were too young, their weaponry on offense too inconsistent. They were up against an opposition that feasts on the uncertain and reckless.

But there is a certain renewal to college basketball each March, when teams have the chance to atone, in the grandest of ways, for all that went wrong in the season.

The reversal of the Terps was somewhat reminiscent of their trek to the Final Four three seasons ago. That team, like this one, was considered out of it, notably after losing at home to Florida State in mid-February.

So mired was that team in the quicksand of a season slipping away, Williams backed away from his Type-A proclivities and announced that it was time to just play ball and stop fretting the tiniest details.

The remedy worked, and the legend grew, to the point that Williams eventually felt compelled to explain that he did not necessarily recognize the softer, gentler soul being portrayed in the fawning articles attesting to his genius.

Williams was still as pugnacious and obsessive as ever, true to his core, just smart enough to go easier around the tumult lurking inside the head of a 21-year-old dreamer.

Of course, this team more than that one orchestrated its about-face under starker circumstances, in the mouth of the abyss.

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