The greatness of Bob Knight or the dark side? That will always be the question, even now. Maybe especially now. But let’s start with size because, in the end, that’s what seems most important.
One night stands out, and it has nothing to do with any of his three national championships.
It was March 22, 1984, during the Sweet 16 of the NCAA tournament. Mighty North Carolina was 28-2 and ranked #1, seeded #1, #1 at everything. The glittering roster included Michael Jordan, Sam Perkins, Kenny Smith and Brad Daugherty – four Tar Heels who would eventually combine to score 76,812 points in the NBA. And they had Dean Smith to coach them. Isn’t that what we call a lock?
The opponent was a relatively unknown 21-8 team from Indiana that started the season losing to Miami of Ohio. The Hoosiers’ starters were freshmen Steve Alford, Uwe Blab, Mike Giomi, Dan Dakich and Marty Simmons. Five guys whose total NBA career point production would top out at 1,315. The only reasonable decision on Thursday night was to bet big on North Carolina. But then, who would bet on Indiana?
One thing though. The Hoosiers had Bob Knight on the bench. He lived for times like this, when he could tell the doubters to kiss his. . . well, you probably heard his speech on this topic. It ended 72-68 for Indiana, a shocking and painful exit for Jordan from college basketball that he will never be able to erase, no matter how many shoes he sold. And there, in bright colors – IU purple and Carolina blue – the genius of what Knight could do on a basketball court, how he could unlock the intricacies of the game and prepare a team for collective success far beyond its flaws individual, was fully visible. display.
It was his legacy. But not at all.
It will forever be like a cumulus cloud floating above sport. Look at Bob Knight’s fascinating aura, study it closely. What do you see?
The championships, the perfection of 1976, the Olympic gold medal of 1984, the constant victories – like the line from a school fight song – for the glory of old IU? The motion offense that transformed the game? The discipline, the unwavering adherence to rules, the requirement that attending Indiana actually meant going to class at Indiana? Diplomas that far exceeded trophies? A generosity often hidden from the public.
Or, and there is almost always a Or with Bob Knight. . .
The rage, the poorly chosen words and actions, the chair flying through the air at the start of the Purdue game, the hands around the neck of one of his players?
So, so much to admire. And yet, there are so many reasons to shake your head and wonder why. Its stature will be forever unique, forever legendary, forever historic, its scale undisputed. But it will always be complicated. Fame, respect, recognition. Of course, all that. But surely also regrets.
He could be incredibly generous and kind to his friends. And incredibly combative towards those who touched one of his nerves, even accidentally.
He could speak with intelligence and humor on almost any subject. But also fill the air with incessant and unnecessary profanity.
He created his teams to be a marvel at control, accountability, and anticipating the results of their actions, but he might have the hardest time managing them himself. He was the virtuoso master of the basketball court, the film room and the locker room. The outside world might be more difficult.
He was unyielding, which meant he could also be unrepentant. It was a strength, except when it was a weakness.
This man who would do anything for a friend. . . could he be the same guy who publicly humiliated a poor young moderator working at a press conference because the kid made a simple mistake? Was the coach who paid respectful and honest tribute to the giants of the game before him the same guy who once pointed a starting pistol in a reporter’s face and pulled the trigger? Or would he have hit a Puerto Rican cop?
The Bob Knight era blew in all directions like exploding fireworks. He was the hero of much of his state, but the man who was fired. He was the heart and soul of Indiana University for many who wore their red every winter, but after the messy divorce he moved away from the place, refusing offers of reconciliation even from his own former players. They urged him to return before it was too late. It almost was. But in the last years of his life, with time clearly taking its toll, he reestablished ties to Bloomington. If this had not been the case, it would have been a tragedy.
Knight’s NCAA tournament career at Indiana had some interesting characteristics. We never wanted to play him in the first match of the weekend, when he had time to prepare. No no. That’s when he looked most dangerous, knocking out defending champion UCLA in 1975, No. 1 UNLV in 1987, North Carolina in 1984. He nearly knocked out Duke in the Final Oven from 1992.
But in the second game of the weekend, while preparation was expected to be a rush job, his Indiana teams could be more vulnerable. Two days after blowing away Jordan and the rest of the Tar Heel stars, the Hoosiers scored just 48 points and lost to No. 7 seed Virginia. Two days after beating top-ranked UNLV in the 1987 Final Four, they had to be saved against Syracuse by Keith Smart. Two days after beating Mike Krzyzewski and Duke in the 1987 regional — the only team that would eliminate the Blue Devils before the Final Four in seven years — the Hoosiers needed an extremely lucky rebound to escape 10-seed LSU.
Another rather strange thing about his reign in Indiana. His magic seemed to be losing a bit in recent years. The Hoosiers’ last great season was 1992-93, when they won the Big Ten and advanced to the Elite Eight. That’s 11 conference titles in 21 years. Extraordinary in such a strong league. But Indiana never took another one in Knight’s final seven seasons. The Hoosiers went 4-7 in March and its last five Hoosiers teams were eliminated from the NCAA Tournament by an average of 17 points per game. Something happened, but what?
Then came the zero tolerance policy, the confrontation with the university president he lost, the hurt feelings, the end of an era. There would be a postscript at Texas Tech and later on ESPN, but Indiana and Bob Knight formed a marriage for the history books, even if it ended badly.
Or maybe it didn’t end in 2000, but just needed a breakup. Maybe it ended on Wednesday at the age of 83. A coach like no other, with a story like no other. The so often good, the sometimes bad, the sometimes ugly, but always unforgettable and never routine. It’s impossible to imagine college basketball — especially Indiana basketball — without him. It is impossible to look at his journey and think that his epitaph is simple.
