Jan. 7, 2008

By Adam Lucas

CLEMSON, S.C.--All around him, everyone was exhaling. And Roy Williams was grinning.

A frenetic last 90 seconds of regulation had just expired, capped with Clemson taking three shots at a game-winning basket, two from point-blank range. All three missed. A sizzling Littlejohn Coliseum, which had rocked for the past two hours, was finally silent. It wasn't that the Tiger fans were discouraged. It was just that they needed to breathe.

What about you? What were you doing? Walking out of the room to collect yourself? Sitting, head in hands, wondering if you could make it through a five-minute overtime? Maybe apologizing to your significant other for the string of unusual phrases that had just come out of your mouth?

At the center of all that energy, Roy Williams was grinning. As his team huddled around him during the break between regulation and overtime, he caught Joe Holladay's eye. They exchanged the briefest of smiles, and then Williams took a knee in the center of his team.

Do you ever pause to wonder why Carolina wins so many of these games? Some programs are lucky to have one of them per decade. In Chapel Hill, at least one per year is the norm. It drives other teams crazy, you know. It's why they never feel safe with any lead against the Tar Heels.

They think it's talent or luck or some combination of the two. But it's not. It's this: it's the head coach leaning into his team, a team that might be on the ropes, and saying, "I love this scenario."

Love it? I'm sitting here grinding my fingernails into dust and you love it?

Sometimes you tell the story of a game by the stat sheet.

But sometimes you just have to watch the faces.

Like Wayne Ellington, in a tight game late in the second half. Clemson was on their way to shooting 50 percent for the half and it felt like much more. The Tar Heels would creep within two or three and the Tigers would make another big basket. And there was Ellington, with a huge smile. "Let's go, blue," he said. "Let's get one stop. One stop."

Fans were yelling and pressure was building and the Carolina sophomore was...smiling.

Like Tyler Hansbrough, who quietly would not let Carolina lose in the final 90 seconds of regulation. With an 81-80 lead, Clemson wanted to get the ball to big bad Trevor Booker in the post. Hansbrough would not allow that. He bumped. He planted his feet behind Booker and refused to move and then, when he felt an opening, he nudged Booker even farther from the basket.

"I wanted to push him out so even if he caught the ball he couldn't do anything," Hansbrough said. "I wanted to get close to him and I wanted to make him use his left hand."

It worked. The Tigers missed and there was--of course--Hansbrough for the rebound. Twenty seconds later, he grabbed an offensive rebound and made one of two free throws for a tie game. Ten seconds later, he drew a charge on K.C. Rivers that gave Carolina a chance to win in regulation.

When he hopped up from the charge, there was that face again. By now, you should know it. It's the face from Duke on Cameron Indoor Stadium senior day two years ago. It's pure joy mixed with exhilaration and an outpouring of frustration. It's a smile and a scowl.

The Tiger fans standing on the baseline were shouting and Oliver Purnell was protesting and Hansbrough was...exulting.

That gave the Tar Heels a chance they probably thought they weren't going to get. Carolina ball, a handful of seconds left, and a chance to win. Except Ellington got a little impatient and jacked up a 21-footer when a two-footer would have been just as welcome. It looked eerily familiar. It looked like--well, you know what it looked like.

Except for the response. After Carolina survived Clemson's final flurry, the Tar Heels returned to their bench. Ellington looked nothing like the freshman who was staggered by missing that same shot against Georgetown. He looked like a man with 29 points who planned to get some more. He high-fived. He even grinned a little.

"I knew as soon as I took it that it was a bad shot," he said. "But despite that, I knew we had a chance. So I knew all we had to do was keep our composure and keep fighting."

And then, of course, the last shot. Ty Lawson penetrates, Ellington elevates, and the net cooperates. The clock shows 00.4 seconds. And Ellington walks to the Carolina huddle with the expression that should strike fear in the hearts of opponents everywhere--it was almost a sneer. It was that look scorers get when their confidence overflows and cascades over everyone around them.

You might not have seen the look. But you know it. You saw it on the face of Rashad McCants. You saw it on the face of Joseph Forte. You saw it on the face of Jerry Stackhouse. It says one simple thing: I am capable of doing things with this basketball that you can't stop. I know it. And more importantly, you know it. Photographer extraordinaire John Lyon has a terrific shot of the game-winner (it's at right). Most telling is not Ellington extending to get the shot over James Mays. It's the faces of the Clemson fans behind him in the stands.

They all look the same. They have hands on their head and they are screaming, "NOOO!" They look like they have an ominous feeling of what's about to happen, like when you're getting out of the car and see the door swinging slooowwwwlllllyyyy closed on your finger but can't quite move it out of the way in time.

They were right.

The shot prompted a wild celebration on the Carolina bench. Players were leaping. Parents were screaming.

What were you doing, there in your house? Banging on something? Waking up the kids? This was one of the all-time brownie thefts, so dance a little.

At the center of all that energy, this time Roy Williams did not smile. He had exhorted and cajoled and pleaded. Now he was four-tenths of a second away from being sapped.

The face of a winner.

He simply walked up to Holladay and exchanged a quick fist bump before getting down to the business of orchestrating the final second.

After a botched Clemson inbounds pass, the Tar Heels escaped with their 15th straight win. Ellington, the hero, did not bark or taunt or otherwise communicate with the crowd.

You don't need me to describe it to you. You just need to look at him.

And enjoy.

Adam Lucas most recently collaborated on a behind-the-scenes look at Carolina Basketball with Wes Miller. The Road To Blue Heaven is available now. Lucas's other books on Carolina basketball include The Best Game Ever, which chronicles the 1957 national championship season, Going Home Again, which focuses on Roy Williams's return to Carolina, and Led By Their Dreams, a collaboration with Steve Kirschner and Matt Bowers on the 2005 championship team.