Mean Streets in Past, Osby Finds a New Way

Terps' Big Man Forges Better Life Through Persistence, Basketball

Bambale Osby sat on a stool in front of his locker last week, soaking in a world that seemed so far away when his basketball odyssey began nearly four years, more than 3,000 miles and two wrong turns ago.

Nearly all of his Maryland teammates already had cleared out, and the celebration of a victory had died down. But the Terrapins senior lingered in the locker room, surrounded by a silence broken only by his own booming laugh, when a visitor pointed out that Osby had just unwittingly put on a relic from the early days of his long journey.

Osby's old gray T-shirt bore a logo that read, "2005 Mountain West Conference Champions."

Out of high school, Osby earned a scholarship to New Mexico and a chance to escape a Richmond neighborhood so blighted, it once inspired him to write a poem titled "Why I Have the Urge to Die." The Lobos won the Mountain West his lone season in Albuquerque, but Osby grew frustrated by a lack of playing time and ended up at Paris Junior College in Texas, where even his closest friends admitted his numbers were nondescript.

That's why to see Osby solely for his 12.2 points and 6.9 rebounds this season for Maryland is to miss a more remarkable journey. It's why, even now, Osby struggles to explain all the breaks that led Coach Gary Williams to pluck him out of obscurity.

"Amazing isn't the word, man," Osby said, reflecting on his good fortune. "It's like a miracle."

'Fear the 'Fro'

At 6 feet 9 and 250 pounds, Osby's frame resembles the dimensions of a vintage Cadillac, with arms that look as if they are made of cold Detroit steel. His nickname, "Boom," doubles as a succinct description of his game as a classic back-to-the-basket player.

Some of his most devoted fans line up at Comcast Center hours before tip-off to claim seats directly across from the Maryland bench. Every game, at least half a dozen of them sit together in the front row wearing matching Afro wigs, a tribute to their favorite player's preferred hairstyle.

Earlier this season, they were shocked when Osby wore neatly-tied cornrows, and in protest, one fan brought a sign that pleaded for him to "Free the 'Fro." When Osby granted the wish two games later, the satisfied fan changed his sign to read "Fear the 'Fro." Knowing that Osby actually would listen to them is just one reason his fans say they love him. Mostly, they cherish the feeling of being invited along for the ride.

"Every single game, he comes over here and shakes our hands, high-fives us," said Maryland freshman Brian Daly, who still brings the sign to every game. "No other player's done that."

This is the way Osby envisioned it while growing up in Richmond's tough north side, where he found solace from the surrounding violence by watching college basketball on television. Even more than the contests themselves, the energy in the arenas mesmerized him. He could feel the electricity when cameras panned across seas of basketball-mad students heaping love upon their heroes.

"Man, that's where I want to be," he'd say to himself. "I want to be playing there. I want to be part of that."