Introducing "2001 Between the Lines," a series of columns by Magazine writers looking back at small, but significant, moments in sports.

It was a mercy stop, nothing more.

There sat the new coach at the table for eight, except that there were five open seats and no waiting. So just to be polite I sat down, opened my notebook and glanced at my watch. Five minutes would be enough time. After all, how interesting could Maryland's Ralph Friedgen be?

This was late summer at the ACC Media Days on the Isle of Palms, just outside Charleston, S.C. You went there to hear Florida State's Bobby Bowden, or Georgia Tech's George O'Leary, or Clemson's Tommy Bowden -- coaches with BCS bowl-quality rosters.

The self-described fat guy with the Maryland job? Only if you needed filler for the daily notes package.

But 30 seconds into it, I uncapped my freebie Marriott pen and started jotting down Fridge quotes. Winston Churchill he wasn't, but Friedgen had a way about him.

Given that Maryland hadn't had a winning season since 1995, someone asked, would Friedgen be satisfied with six victories in his first year?

"Why would I tell them to win just six games?" he said, leaning forward in his chair.

Well, because it's Maryland. Because the last three coaches averaged less than four victories per season. Because this was his first year as a head coach.

Friedgen said something about national prominence and added, "I'll be disappointed if I don't achieve that."

This was Friedgen's shot. He was 54, a Maryland grad (class of '69), and had been passed over for more head coaching jobs than the NCAA has rules. Years ago when he was a graduate assistant with Frank Beamer at College Park, Friedgen wrote every Division I-A coach and asked for a job. He started the letter, "Football is my life ..." His first of many rejection letters came from Bear Bryant himself.

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But that day in the hotel conference room, Friedgen talked like a man who didn't care about five-year plans. Five-year plans are for coaches who don't know what to do during the first four years. Friedgen knew exactly what he was going to do.

He was going to pooch punt anybody who didn't buy into his we-can-win-now attitude. He was going to install his multiple offense. He was going to impose his considerable will.

"It's a lesson in persistence," he said. "If you want something bad enough ..."

Thing is, he was talking about himself.

For the next 20 minutes I listened to a guy whose team was a preseason no-show on every known top-25 list. The Terps were, at best, supposed to finish in the middle of the ACC standings. Six wins? What's the parade route?

But the big lug knew better. He led Maryland (10-1) to its first double digit-win season since 1976, the ACC title and an Orange Bowl berth, and now he has to clear mantle space for all the Coach of the Year awards.

But I'll always remember the roundtable discussion. Him. Me. A couple of other hacks. And the empty chairs.

Now I'll never get a seat.

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at gene.wojciechowski@espnmag.com.