Lawrence ? In 11 dizzying days, Kansas University and its fans felt love turn to scorn.

One day they’re within a few points of being national champions. Then the man that many had counted upon not just to win games, but to validate their belief system turned and walked away.

Kansans will never forget 11 days in April. Here in a nutshell is how they unfolded:

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Monday, April 7 — Spirits are high and palms are sweaty at the Superdome in New Orleans as Williams’ Jayhawks square off against Syracuse for the NCAA championship. Kirk Hinrich’s desperation three-point attempt to put the game in overtime is an air ball. A few minutes later, CBS reporter presses a red-eyed Williams about the North Carolina job. People who never have heard him curse in private bolt upright when he blurts out on live television, “Right now I don’t give a (rhymes with spit) about North Carolina.”

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Tuesday, April 8 — About 8,000 people show up in Allen Fieldhouse for an upbeat welcome home.

“I love this place,” Williams tells the adoring crowd.

Sitting at the very end of the line of chairs on the court is Al Bohl, the KU athletic director known to be intensely disliked by Williams. Williams tells reporters he’s going to visit with former North Carolina coach Dean Smith about the Tar Heels job. Jayhawk fans begin now to seriously worry.

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Wednesday, April 9 — Chancellor Robert Hemenway fires Bohl, probably the only AD ever booed at his own team’s Final Four pep rally. He admits that hiring Bohl 22 months ago was an embarrassing mistake. Hemenway presents Drue Jennings as interim AD and says he hopes the process of finding a permanent replacement “goes better than the last time.” He also denies he dismissed Bohl to mollify Williams. Bohl fires back, blaming Williams.

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Thursday, April 10 — Williams plunges into full decision-making agony, exactly as he’d done three years earlier when the Tar Heels first tried to lure him home. Fans worry. Fans fret.

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Friday, April 11 — Williams is in Los Angeles for a gala weekend at the John Wooden Awards dinner and tells people he doesn’t know what he’ll do. Fans worry. Fans fret.

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Saturday, April 12 — Williams accepts prestigious Wooden Award, remains non-committal. Fans worry. Fans fret.

Sunday, April 13 — Williams says in LA he’ll probably have a decision on Monday. Fretting, worrying fans await.

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Monday, April 14 — Williams emerges at 4:01 p.m. from a team meeting. He is crying.

He’s done it. The most popular man in the state of Kansas, the man who won four out of five games for 15 years and captured the heart of an entire university community, really did tell his team he’d found other players he would rather coach.

Williams disappears into his office as angry, hurt players emerge from the meeting and confirm that he told them goodbye. In bars across the state that night, people boo as they watch Williams accept the job at a news conference carried live from Chapel Hill.

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Tuesday, April 15 — A palpable gloom descends on the campus. Players vote to cancel their annual parade through downtown Lawrence. Some talk about transferring. Adoration turns to hate. Someone starts a petition drive to have former North Carolina coach Dean Smith, blamed for talking Roy into leaving, removed from the Kansas Sports Hall of Fame.

Jennings promises Jayhawks will move quickly. Bill Self of Illinois emerges as front-runner as new coach.

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Wednesday, April 16 — Kansas lodges official protest with North Carolina over what it feels could be a subtle effort by Williams to lure away blue-chip recruits. Williams denies he would ever do such a thing. When word spreads that Williams plans to attend annual team awards ceremony Thursday, players say it will be awkward. Some fans plot a protest.

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Thursday, April 17 — Williams does show up at awards dinner, which turns into a huggy-feely crying jag for just about all concerned. A weepy Williams says the easy thing would have been for him to stay away, but he loved his team and Kansas too much not to be there to help celebrate not only this season, but 15 wonderful years.

One man does yell, “traitor.” Dave Collison, father of All-American Nick Collison, jumps to his feet and tells the guy he ought to be ashamed of himself.

Sophomore guard Michael Lee seems to speak for everyone when he comes to the microphone.

“We’re going through some tough times right now. But I want to say to coach Williams, I love you. I wish you guys luck in everything you do.”

With that, the healing process seemed to begin.

What awaits a university and its people remains to be seen. But regardless of whether fate is cruel or kind, things will never be the same.