Steve Cleveland leaned over a cheeseburger inside a Red Robin hamburger house in Fresno, Calif., seven years ago, a community college coach resigned to the reality that the biggest break of his coaching life had passed him in 1993. Fresno City's coach had been turned down for an assistant's job at BYU, a Mormon son completely convinced that he was never going to live his dream.

"I had my shot," Cleveland sighed that day. "I had my shot."

He had told his wife, Kit, that he would never again bring up the issue of rising to a Division I job again. Cleveland had a powerhouse program pumping out 30 victories a season and a family surrounding him. In his mind, the era of community college coaches getting hired to run Division I programs was long gone. All he wanted was an assistant's job at BYU, because that's all that he could even consider possible.

	The Cleveland Era
	Yr.	W	L	Notable
	'97-98	9	21	Lost first round of conf. tourney
	'98-99	12	16	Won one conf. tourney game
	'99-00	22	11	Lost to Notre Dame in NIT quarters
	'00-01	24	9	Lost to Cincinnati in first round of NCAA tourney.
	'01-02	18	12	Lost in second round of NIT

"Junior college coaches in the 1990s just weren't getting Division I jobs," Cleveland says. "That happened with Lute Olson and Tark years ago, but not anymore. We were staying in Fresno. That's just the way it was."

Until Roger Reid was fired in 1997. Until a BYU contact told him to apply for the job.

The head job?

Whatever.

Cleveland sent a package. He never expected to hear from BYU again. Yet, they called Cleveland. And again. And again. They brought him to Provo to meet the athletic director, the president, and something clicked between Cleveland, a Mormon, and school officials.

The BYU program had dropped so far, so fast, to 1-25, and the administration wanted to do something different, something drastic. So, they courted for BYU the coach lording over the ultimate playground player, Rafer Alston, at Fresno City.

As it turned out, BYU made the most unpopular choice in school sports history, hiring a complete unknown in the shadow of the University of Utah and Rick Majerus, fresh out of the 1997 national championship game. And as it turned out, they look like prophets.

When Cleveland finally had come down out of the clouds, gathered himself and took a long look around him, he wondered to himself: Just what had he gotten himself into there?

He had to sell people on himself. He spoke to 150 groups in his first two years on the job, just shaking hands and pushing a product -- his vision. He knocked on dormitory room doors and introduced himself, inviting students to return to the games at the Marriott Center. And toughest of all, Cleveland had gone into living rooms of Utah's best Mormon talent and tried to do the impossible: Tell them to come to BYU, when they had a chance to go play for Majerus and the Utes.

"At the time, we were just a sacrificial lamb for Utah," Cleveland said. "(Majerus) was an icon. We were in the shadows of the best program in the West, with a coach on ESPN every night, a roster of NBA players, and you just wondered: How can we ever overcome that?"

Cleveland has delivered BYU a long way. The Cougars stand shoulder to shoulder with Utah in the Mountain West Conference now. Yes, it was Utah that ended the Cougars' 44-game home winning streak at the Marriott Center earlier this season, but Monday night, it's No. 1 Utah (20-4, 8-1 league) and No. 2 BYU (18-6, 7-2) meeting at the Huntsman Center with first place in the conference still on the line.

Whatever happens Monday, BYU seems destined for the NCAA Tournament for the second time under Cleveland. After going to the NCAAs in 2000, BYU has gone to consecutive NITs. He isn't just securing the best Mormon players, but reaching out to non-Mormon and black recruits who never considered BYU in the past.

The way Majerus complemented his best Utah talent with Andre Miller and Keith Van Horn out of Southern California, and Michael Doleac out of Oregon, has been a blueprint for Cleveland on constructing a national contender.

"I've watched his program closely," Cleveland says. "What he's done has helped me to be a better coach. He's helped us get to a level now where we're competitive with them."

BYU is his job, all the way. This is his life now. He's had chances to listen to offers to leave, but deep down, Cleveland believes: Somehow fate delivered BYU to him. And maybe more so, it delivered Cleveland to BYU. Once this machinery gets pumping in Provo, the Mormon players signing up and the non-Mormons growing intrigued with the possibilities, BYU is always one of the West's monster programs.

"We're averaging 16,000 a game, and we have a community that absolutely loves basketball," Cleveland said. "Utah is lot like Indiana. I had no idea about them here."

And they had no idea about Steve Cleveland six years ago, but they do now. So too do Majerus and Utah, which nobody ever expected to happen. Least of all a community college coach making the most improbable climb of all, the rise into the coaching seat of power that he never, ever believed possible for him.

Adrian Wojnarowski is a columnist for The Record (N.J.) and a regular contributor to ESPN.com. He can be reached at ESPNWoj@aol.com.