Caution: Because of the graphic language, this column is presented with a 10-second delay.

Snug in your earplugs. Zip up your HazMat suit. Cinch up your goggles.

For the next two hours you’re going to sit 10 feet behind Maryland coach Gary Williams, the human Cuisinart of college basketball. We’re at Denver‘s Pepsi Center, and Maryland is about to tip off against Syracuse in round 2 of the NCAAs. “I always tell people, ‘Sit behind his bench,’ ” says Orangemen coach Jim Boeheim, “because watching Wacko is so much better than watching the game itself.”

Wacko is what Boeheim calls his golf buddy Williams, who is about to scream, run, skip, windmill, yank on his hair, sweat bathtubs and spin James Brown 360s until you are quite sure his carotid artery is going to burst right in front of your eyes.

“I have to interview him right after the game,” says Terps color man Chris Knoche. “Sometimes his lip will be bleeding. Or his lips will be caked with white stuff. It’s like he was playing.”

Buckle up….

Maryland, 2-0
Normally genteel until the game stalls, Williams gets off his seat along the sideline and goes into a catcher’s crouch. His butt won’t touch the chair for the rest of the night.

Syracuse, 6-4
Beside himself because his players won’t attack the ‘Cuse zone, the 59-year-old Williams turns salmon pink. He wheels on his assistant coach, Jimmy Patsos, and hollers, “You dumb mother [deleted on delay]! Make them take the ball inside!”

Why does he scream at Patsos? Because it’s scream or herniate, and Williams doesn’t want to scream at the Maryland players on the court. In his 13 years with Williams, Patsos has been fired more times than Donald Trump‘s barber. But he never actually leaves. “I know he doesn’t mean it,” Patsos says. “He’s one of my best friends in the world.”

Syracuse, 12-10
Williams is not a patient man, but the way the Terps are playing would make Glinda the Good Witch bite her wand in half. They seem to be wearing oven mitts. When freshman Ekene Ibekwe throws a pass over his head backward straight into a Syracuse player’s hands, it looks like the top of Williams‘s head might blow off.

“What the [deleted on delay] is wrong with you guys today!?!” he screeches at four subs who haven’t even entered the game yet. Amazingly, they look genuinely sorry.

Syracuse, 19-14
It’s only the first half, and Williams looks as if he had just stepped out of a Turkish bath. “He sweats a lot,” says his daughter, Kristin. “That’s why he never takes off his suit jacket. He sweats through the whole suit.” Has Armani done anything in sponge?

Syracuse, 30-19
His face now cherry-tomato red, Williams is trying to shock his players into playing with some kind of emotion. “What!?! You scared to play the national champs!?!” he hollers. “Big TV game got you scared!?!” Maryland sinks a trey, but Syracuse gets an easy jam as the half ends. Williams does a very good impression of Yosemite Sam just before he blows.

Halftime
After their worst scoring half of the season Williams challenges his players. “We’ve got two choices!” he yells. “Spring break or Sweet 16! Which do you want?” In unison his players holler, “Spring break!”

(We kid.)

Syracuse, 35-22
The Terps start the second half getting called for a walk and allowing an undefended trey, and Williams uses Patsos as his personal Wailing Wall. (One game, after a player made a turnover, Williams screamed at Patsos, “Dammit, Jimmy, never recruit a player like that again!” But then, this is a man who once yelled at his coaches for not sweating more.)

Syracuse, 61-54
Williams is ADHD Boy on Red Bull. He’s pacing, flinging wild overhead hooks at invisible heavyweights, jumping, crouching and pleading. It’s working. He has the Terps back in it. The guy didn’t win the 2002 NCAA title at a church raffle, you know.

Syracuse, 69-64
With 35 seconds left, Maryland‘s Chris McCray is nailed for traveling after an Orangeman reaches in on him. Williams goes into a kind of triple-time Watusi that makes you think there’s a bee in his clothes. “You [deleted on delay]!” he shrieks at the ref. “All [deleted on delay] night long! [Deleted on delay] you!” The ref doesn’t even look at him. You think the ref knows, too, that Williams doesn’t mean it?

Syracuse, 72-70
In the frenzy just before the buzzer, Maryland‘s D.J. Strawberry tries two game-tying shots that don’t fall. Williams‘s face falls flatter than a tortilla. Game over.

“He’s the only coach I worry about [losing to],” Boeheim says afterward. “We’d have beaten anybody else easily, as good as we played.”

Ten minutes later the Hulk has turned into Bruce Banner again—quiet, soft-spoken, kind. “I need to go find a beach somewhere,” Williams whispers.

Yet the people he’s lung-whipped only seem to admire him more. “Who else could’ve turned this young team around tonight against the national champs?” says Patsos. He points to his slumped and bloodless boss. “Only that man right there.”

Some [deleted on delay] coach, huh?