UNIVERSITY PARK, Pa. -- Coffee pulled him out of bed yesterday and dragged him all the way toward lunch. Then the game grabbed hold of him; thank goodness for the game, a reprieve on the path to depletion. The sky darkened, student section filled, the adrenaline spiked, and Penn State coach Ed DeChellis danced, arms waving, along the courtside paint, looking about as fresh as a man can look on another night of almost no sleep.

DeChellis wore an olive jacket and tan slacks, covering the skinny and sunless legs that force his gait, most days, into one that reminds you of a person getting up from a collision. He's in his third year overseeing every problem and challenge facing every member of his basketball team. This year, compared to his first two in University Park, has been a great one, but given his team's recent four-game Big Ten losing streak, its tired lineup of youngsters and its dim prospects for the postseason, that statement rings like a sadistic joke.

Ah, rebuilding: three syllables, plenty of cheer, one gigantic lie of linguistics. The thing is, rebuilding breaks down those responsible for making it happen. Every Division I coach commits himself to long workdays, and DeChellis acknowledges this. But pushing a program in the right direction -- and overcoming the inertia of year-by-year losing -- requires greater output (with less immediate reward) than maintaining a program's momentum.

Last night was one of those moments DeChellis relishes.

The Nittany Lions (12-11, 4-8 Big Ten) pulled out a 71-68 win against Indiana, a team they had beaten twice in 25 previous games. DeChellis could largely thank forwards Geary Claxton and Travis Parker, who generated a combined 41 points and 16 rebounds.

But like always, the game boiled the coach's nerves. Forty minutes delivered 14 lead changes and prompted the Nittany Lions to reveal their inexperience playing with a lead.

In the final three minutes, Penn State sank just one of six free throws, but Indiana failed to get off a potential tying shot at the buzzer, and dozens of students stormed the court.

"A key win for us," Claxton said.

"It was important for us to kind of get the good feeling back," DeChellis said.

He calls defeats "devastating" and wins "a relief," but no matter the result, he's lucky to catch an hour of sleep on nights after games. He sleeps no better on nights before his team plays, wondering instead about a lineup lacking a starter taller than 6 feet 6, a team without a winning Big Ten record in the past 10 years. A pad and pen sit by his bed and, often, the coach scribbles while his wife, Kim, sleeps.

"Sometimes, I worry about him," she said, "because he just internalizes everything."

"Well, it was 4:30 this morning," DeChellis said Tuesday of his wake-up time. "Just got up. Couldn't help it. When I go to bed, I'm thinking about the team. When I wake up, I'm thinking about the team. All during the day I'm thinking about the team. It's constant, 24 hours a day.

"You know, because my mind is always going. My wife will say, 'During the season, forget about talking to you.' Even when I'm home, I'll be watching TV, but I'm not -- my mind is away, somewhere else. At home I try to do it, but, when you have this job, it just consumes you."

February is college basketball's month of fatigue. Minds and legs wither, either because of monotony of fatigue. And the days leading up to the Indiana game tested the Nittany Lions like few others. DeChellis especially carried the burden, taking blame for the two deflating losses -- home games against Minnesota and Wisconsin -- that suffocated the momentum of a groundbreaking upset Feb. 4 at Illinois.

After the victory in Champaign, Ill., -- the first Illini home loss in 33 games -- DeChellis elected to ease the practices and yelling, believing his team's underclassmen needed a break from the 24-7 test of endurance. The move backfired.

"We liked it and enjoyed it, don't get me wrong," freshman starting forward Jamelle Cornley said. "But at the same time, it wasn't in the best interests of our team. We relaxed a little bit too much. The mind-set was like, 'OK, we've got a big win. Now we can take it easy.' "

So after his team's loss Saturday to Wisconsin -- the Badgers outscored Penn State by 22 in the second half -- DeChellis reversed his approach. Monday and Tuesday before the Indiana game, even the team's most boisterous characters were trimmed into bunch of "yessirs" in gym shorts.

The truth was, despite the post-Illinois hangover, DeChellis relished much of what his team had accomplished in the first three quarters of the season. Against Northwestern, Penn State grabbed its first conference road victory since 2001.

Claxton learned to carry the team offensively, averaging almost 16 points per game. Cornley, unheralded one year earlier as a high school recruit, budded into one of the conference's top newcomers. Better yet, the win against Illinois provided a burst of attention no men's basketball team has seen on this campus in the past five years. Given Penn State's returning depth next season, respectability appears -- for the first time in a half-decade -- less pipe dream than possibility.

Still, the burdens tug at DeChellis. He devotes at least 30 minutes every day to exercise -- the best, if not the only, stress-reducer he has found. In his previous stop, at East Tennessee State, he enjoyed four winning seasons in five years, learning all the while how success feeds energy -- a self-sustaining cycle. At Penn State, he's trying to create that same cycle.

"You deal with these 15 kids for a week," he said at one point Tuesday. "Let me know how you feel at the end of the week. When you get the call from the academic lady. When you get the call from the trainer. When the guys have class, so they're gonna miss practice. Or something's going on at home and you're trying to help them. Now do that from September until May, every day. Every single day! ... When kids leave in the summer, you have six or eight weeks they're not here. Those six to eight weeks are like ..."

DeChellis never finished the sentence, only drawing a deep breath, and exhaling.

He walked into practice Tuesday just off the treadmill. His eyes pierced every move. For a moment, as his team trotted through a footwork drill, the gym was a hum of background noise -- sneakers squeaked, and assistants shouted encouragement.

Then, DeChellis, face reddening, stopped everything. He called the team to halfcourt.

"We've got guys jogging," he screamed. "What the hell are you doing? Get your asses on that line and sprint. No lolly-gagging! No pissing around! Let's practice today the way we're going to play tomorrow."

Minutes later, he halted another drill -- this one designed to help with transition defense -- by tossing his hands into the air and saying, "We don't understand this at all." Then during a five-on-five scrimmage, he spotted Milos Bogetic, a 6-10 freshman from Serbia, lose a battle for a rebound. "Goddamit, Milos," DeChellis shrieked.

The eruption carved an uneasy silence. Some days, rebuilding is a chore, not an invigorating challenge. He loves the future of his program, but he always is braced for what might come next.