...Miss Head, if You're Nasty

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Do Not Go Gently...

I went to school at Indiana University. I was there in the early 90's. The time of riots at Varsity Villas. The time of war protesters living in Dunn Meadow. The time of Trent Green. The time of Calbert Cheaney. And Damon Baily. And Brian Evans. And Coach Knight.

They were a couple of years off their last NCAA win when I arrived. Coach Knight ruled all. People conspired to get into classes he taught at the HPER building. There were allegedly two choices. The basketball coaching class was understandable. The fly fishing one? A bit less so, but no less magical a thought to contemplate.

Cream and crimson. Football was a different animal. That was a purely social occasion which provided us an excuse to walk to the party end of campus early in the day. No one went sober.

Basketball, on the other hand? No one went drunk. It was like going to church. Assembly Hall can be as silent as a pin, even with 17,000-plus people sitting inside. It frequently was. Before free throws. At the whistle. During tirades. No one ever waved their hands behind the basket in an effort to distract an opposing player when I was there. No one. It was. Not. Done.

Once, someone put flyers on all of the seats in Assemby Hall. Students, being by their nature rather rambunctious, began flying paper airplanes from the upper deck. It only took one bellow from the General to stop that practice dead in its tracks.

No one brought signs. No one jumped up and down like popcorn. No one talked very loud. We were being trained, all of us. Trained to watch. Trained to be sportsmanlike. Trained to be students of the game.

I was at IU when Coach Knight "pretended" to whip Calbert Cheaney with a towel. I was there when he kicked his son, Pat, off the team. I think he may have actually kicked Pat, too, during a game. He threw a lot of towels. He yelled a lot. A whole lot. And he won a lot, too.

We got to the Final Four one year while I was there. We lost to Duke. The team of Christian Laettner and, the devil incarnate, Bobby Hurley. I knew the apocolypse was not long in coming when they suited him up in an Indiana jersey for Blue Chips. It was a magical tournament for me, even though we didn't get to the final game, when Duke stuck it to the Fab Five, if I recall correctly.

When I was at IU, we, the students, were convinced Coach Knight controlled the universe. Any loss was actually planned by him, in order to instill character and resolve in his team. They needed those losses to season them, to make them better. He also controlled whatever number of points would eventually be scored. He controlled the calls of the refs. Hell, we probably thought he controlled the weather.

I was sad when he got fired, although it was a long time coming. For all that he demanded good manners and sportsmanship from others, he gave very little of that himself. No one can fault his coaching skills and now, when IU has managed to hire a coach with questionable recruiting tactics and various ethical violations trailing him, Coach Knight seems...not so bad.

He's cranky. He's surly. He once shot a guy.

But, then again, so did our Vice President.

He's also a great coach, a good teacher and a winner. There were no ethical violations with Coach Knight. He graduated students and he made them more together than they were individually. And I'm not just talking about his team.

Although I'm sure IU would never contemplate rehiring Coach Knight, it wouldn't be so wrong to look for someone with some of the same qualities.

Besides, Bloomington could use some good weather control.

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