A court fit for Gary

The writing has been on the wall for years.

Scratch that, the writing has been on the court for years: Whenever Gary Williams retired, the court at Comcast Center would bear his namesake. Simple as that.

But now that it's actually happening, there's backlash?

People cheered in May when University President Wallace Loh announced the plan at Williams' retirement celebration. It was a fitting time to formalize the honor, a gesture that proved the man who screamed, sweated and — above all — succeeded for 22 years on the sideline in College Park would be immortalized at Comcast Center, The House That Gary Built.

No one was talking then about how it would be disrespectful to other coaches in the program history. For as good as his precessors were, Williams stood above them all.

Then a report last week in The Baltimore Sun indicated that a "quiet but potent minority" felt the move would be a slap in the face to longtime coach Charles "Lefty" Driesell and even to current women's basketball coach Brenda Frese.

It's a shame that Driesell hasn't been given his due, and it's even worse that it's likely because his time at this university ended on as harsh a note as the death of Len Bias. He should be remembered for much more than tragedy.

For proof, look at the two ACC regular-season titles, NIT Tournament championship, two ACC Coach of the Year awards, 348 wins and eight NCAA Tournament appearances. He set out to make this university the UCLA of the East and brought with him the first dominant era in Terps basketball history. Driesell, in many ways, built the program.

But Williams rebuilt it, and rebuilt it better. After Bias' death, Driesell's departure and the NCAA's sanctions on the Terps program, he left a cushy job at Ohio State to bring his alma mater back from the brink of irrelevance. Forging past television and postseason bans, Williams soon enough had the Terps atop the sport.

People point to that championship as Williams' crowning achievement, the one that separates him from Driesell. But it's what that championship represented — the completion of Williams' resurrection of the program — that makes him so special.

We can only wonder where the athletics department would be today if it weren't for Williams. The Terps would likely still be looking for their first major national championship since the football team won one in 1953. The athletics department would probably be in even more dire financial straits than it finds itself in today. And there almost assuredly wouldn't be a court at Comcast Center to name, because there wouldn't be a Comcast Center.

It was Williams' dominance as a coach that made building one of the premier college basketball venues in the country necessary in the first place. Williams is the most prominent figure in Terrapins athletics history. Bigger than Bias, more enduring than Juan Dixon, more important than Curley Byrd. And greater than Driesell.

Naming the court after Williams isn't a slight at Driesell. A number of basketball programs have named courts and buildings for legendary coaches and figures even when other greats had come before them.

And frankly, why should a building that Driesell never coached in and didn't have an important role in erecting feature his name on the court?

It isn't a judgement of Driesell. It's a judgment of Williams.

The shame here isn't that Driesell doesn't get the court named after him, but that he hasn't been honored in another way in the two decades since he was forced out. Greivis Vasquez has his number hanging in Comcast less than a year after he graduated, but Driesell has had to wait more than 20 years.

Driesell deserves a banner in the rafters. Give him a statue. Have Lefty Driesell Day at Comcast. Do something.

There has to be a fitting way to honor Driesell. But the court? That belongs to Gary.

schneider@umdbk.com