Jim Nantz said it best at halftime of Virginia’s 2019 first round game against Gardner-Webb. With the Hoos trailing their sixteenth-seeded foes 36-30, Nantz wondered aloud “can lightning strike twice?”

It was, of course, impossible not to think back to the events of last year. So maybe those words were fitting, given the unprecedented circumstance Virginia once again found themselves in.

The first half did little to dispel the fears that it might, actually, happen again. A defense that was always so solid looked like a group of bumbling freshmen for a good portion of that half. The Hoos were continually beat on the Gardner-Webb pick and roll, resulting in easy points for the Bulldogs.

Jack Salt — and in some instances Mamadi Diakite or Jay Huff — were beaten by Gardner-Webb big DJ Laster. The Virginia player would come out to hedge off of the pick, and Laster, a player who averaged 29 points over his last five regular season games, would roll to the basket for an easy bucket.

And the Hoos weren’t delivering with the other thing that they could be relied upon to be consistent with. Over the course of the season, they averaged nine turnovers per game; at halftime they had eight. These turnovers were often the result of a miscommunication.

And those miscommunications were a result of a strange lack of energy from the Wahoos. You would think that a team that had to avenge its previous first round loss would come out blazing. Instead, they were devoid of energy, going through the motions as they had in the closing minutes of the UMBC game.

And it was tough for fans not to feel the same emotions as they did during that scarring game. The game that will live on forever in the annals of the NCAA Tournament would also live on forever in the minds of Wahoo fans. Those memories were brought to the surface as it appeared as if it would happen again.

Even dipping, however slightly, into the feelings of that night is enough to cause pain. Remembering how that felt. . . Even a couple of years removed from the incident, it still brings back that helpless, empty feeling.

That same feeling was perpetuated for an hour of college basketball. It was impossible not to feel like it might all be over in just 20 more minutes of hoops. After waiting all season for that one moment, the one that could start a new legacy for Virginia basketball, it looked as if it could be snatched away again.

It wasn’t all to the fault of the Virginia players, though.

Credit Gardner-Webb. They came out with a good game plan, one that was effective against the best defensive team in the country. And they hit a lot of tough shots and threes to give them that advantage.

But in the second half, Gardner-Webb played like, well, Gardner-Webb. Sixteen seeds are not supposed to beat one seeds for a reason, and a good one. Pitting the talent of a team playing in the Big South (or the America East, for that matter) against that of one with at least three NBA draft picks should only produce one result.

The Hoos, already on the receiving end of the opposite of that result, would not be again. They came out firing, playing Virginia basketball, Bennett basketball, the way it should be played.

It started with a Mamadi rebound and subsequent putback, one that helped Virginia win the rebounding margin by an astounding 14. Then it was a De’Andre Hunter slam to counter a Bulldog bucket. Virginia, slowly but surely, destroyed their opposition.

The trademark moment came on a Hunter three with 11:26 remaining in Gardner-Webb’s season. Dre, nailing the three from the wing, danced back towards midcourt, hands raised high in the air and a smile creasing that often impassive face.

Pure joy and relief are the emotions that come to mind when watching and remembering that moment. That was the moment where Virginia finally broke free of the shackles placed upon them after the historic loss of a year prior. That was the moment where you truly felt it for the first time. The moment where everybody started believing.

Sure, we all believed in our Hoos before. Yeah, maybe some of us were checking out how much plane tickets to Minneapolis might cost. But underneath it all, there was that underlying fear of a repeat. Brought to the fore during a trying first half, swiftly banished in the second.

As Hunter made his way back towards the other side of the court, the emotion was tangible. Hands raised, smile lighting up his face, bench jumping in joy. . . It says it all.

And as he skipped, alone, you couldn’t help but feel as if he, us, Virginia, were finally free. Free of the bonds, free of the media attention, free to try and do something magical.

The Hoos were moving on to the second round.