ATLANTA -- The official scorer didn't notice, but the most impressive rebound of Monday evening's NCAA championship game came moments after the final buzzer sounded and Maryland had its first ever national title.

As the Terrapin reserves and coaching staff streamed onto the court, Final Four Most Outstanding Player Juan Dixon flung the Rawlings game ball toward the Georgia Dome roof and then made a beeline toward teammate Lonny Baxter for a hug. The ball hung in the air for several seconds before finding a new owner.

	Juan Dixon averaged nearly 26 points during the title run.

That's because Steve Blake wasn't interested in warm and fuzzy moments. The Maryland point guard wanted that ball. So he boxed out anyone who came near him, grabbed the gamer and then locked it under his left arm.

"Yeah, I'm keeping this ball," he said.

And if Terps coach Gary Williams, who waited, what, 24 years to get the monkey off his turtle shell, wants the ball for his own collection?

"I might give it to the program," Blake said. "That's about it."

Then Blake started bouncing the ball between his legs and even made a short shot that kissed off the glass and fell through the rim. The net was long gone, the last remnants snipped away by the once-cursed Williams, who swung the nylon over his head like a lasso and yelled something from high atop the aluminum ladder to the Maryland faithful. And for a pleasant change it didn't feature a word four letters long.

Williams's first championship didn't come easily. They never do. Back in late November, when the Terps were beating the likes of Delaware State, Williams looked as if he had been in a bar fight by game's end. Face flushed red. Perspiring. Engaged.

This time he had to sweat out another second-half move by Indiana, which apparently didn't get the memo about getting lapped by the favored Terps. The Hoosiers shaved Maryland's lead to a nub and then finally tied the game for the first time with 11:41 remaining. That's when Williams thought about having a small stroke, reconsidered, and calmly (for Williams) regrouped his team during a timeout.

Maryland -- which for 13 seconds trailed by one point -- slowly pulled away, but even when there was less than a minute left and the game had become nothing more than an IU foulfest, Williams was still in full coach mode.

"That last minute tonight, that was more just to stay focused for me," Williams explained. "There was a lot of things I was thinking about there in that situation."

Now all he has to worry about is if he'll get any quality snooze time before Tuesday's 2 o'clock celebration rally at wonderfully antiquated Cole Field House, which deserves a ceremony as much as Williams. After all, Cole has waited since 1955 for something like this.

Maryland's championship is no cheapie. Mike Davis might be a second-year coach without the military nickname of his famed predecessor, but the Hoosiers played hard and played with joy and smiles, something conspicuously absent from Bob Knight's reign. The Terps were the better team -- the scoreboard doesn't lie on this one -- but IU's coach and players did themselves and their fifth-seed proud. After this run, if Davis doesn't get the raise he wants and deserves, he never will.

"I love coaching," Davis said. "I couldn't do anything else. I probably should have sold some T-shirts in this Final Four deal, but I don't want to do anything but coach."

Chances are Davis won't be selling clothes out of his car trunk anytime soon. That was in his former life. He probably won't be coaching Jared Jeffries, either.

Barring a late change of heart, the star IU forward will spend his junior season in the NBA. He shouldn't; he isn't strong enough or ready enough. If Maryland can hold him to 8 points in 32 minutes, what do you think will happen when Karl Malone introduces himself? (Same goes for Kansas's Drew Gooden -- just 5 field goals in the Final Four semis loss -- who also is on his way out.) But money is money, which maybe is why Davis pulled Jeffries from the game with 1:22 remaining and the Hoosiers trailing by 15.

Davis also pulled junior point guard Tom Coverdale, but for non-financial reasons. Coverdale isn't going anywhere, except maybe the training room. He played 32 minutes on a sore ankle that had about a quarter-mile's worth of tape around it. Afterward, as Georgia Dome workers rushed to assemble the stage for the postgame trophy presentation -- and nearly knocked over several IU players in the process -- you could see Davis put his arm around the limping Coverdale. Davis rubbed Coverdale's red hair and together they made the walk to the Hoosiers locker room.

"I think when we look back we'll be proud of the fact that we got Indiana back competing for a national championship again, and hopefully we'll be back here again next year," Coverdale said later.

Maryland's Dixon could say the same thing. A fifth-year senior, Dixon has endured personal tragedy (the death of his parents from AIDS) and hoops despair (the Terps blew a 22-point lead in last season's Final Four semis loss to Duke). Now comes triumph, and on so many different levels.

It was Dixon, attired in a freshly issued championship T-shirt and cap, who ventured into the first row of seats for a group hug with his brother Phil and assorted friends and family. It has been a lonely journey at times for the brothers Dixon, but on this night they shared smiles and tears.

"I feel like I'm dreaming right now because I'm part of a national championship team," he said. "A lot of people back home counted me out, didn't give me a chance."

For the dummies back home, Dixon's linescore: 18 points (led all scorers, again), 5 rebounds, 5 steals, one ring sizing to come. No wonder some clever Maryland fan waved a sign that read, "Juan Shining Moment."

There was a lot to like about Monday evening's game, beginning with the appearance of the torn, somewhat tattered American flag from the World Trade Center. There were "Fear the Turtle" placards, which makes sense, given the kind of magical seasons the Maryland hoops and football teams had. There were Dixon and IU's Dane Fife chirping away on the court, trying to will the other to fold. There was Davis working the refs, then winking and smiling at the scorer's table as the ref walked away. There even was the radio broadcast crew of the Maryland student station, WMUC, asking its listeners back in College Park to party hearty, "but please don't go out of control." (They weren't listening, guys).

So what if it wasn't a classic game, it was still a night to hold close.

Just like Blake and his Rawlings.

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior reporter at ESPN The Magazine.