Knight’s Son Surely Knew This Would Be No Picnic

Now I have heard it all. A basketball coach has been suspended for son-kicking.

And not just a basketball coach but the basketball coach--Bob Knight, the ayatollah of Indiana, who had to be disciplined after losing his temper.

I don’t fully comprehend this. Bob Knight has been losing his temper since shortly after his birth. Suspending Bob Knight for losing his temper is like suspending a fish for swimming.

To me, the coach’s demeanor was a misdemeanor.

Yet a contrite Knight went along with it, accepting his one-game layoff Friday and even apologizing, which could be a first. “I’m sorry,” he said, with all the sincerity of Patsy Cline.

His penalty was to miss the Tennessee Tech game. I don’t know about you, but to me, missing a Tennessee Tech game sounds more like a reward than a penalty.

Well, I suppose Gen. Patton went too far in slapping that soldier, so maybe Coach Knight did go too far in his outburst during last Tuesday’s game against Notre Dame. Although he flung no furniture, Knight apparently was guilty of giving Indiana’s fans a dirty look, giving players a tongue-lashing and giving a kick of his Adidas in the general direction of one Pat Knight, who is, let me assure you, a real son-of-a-coach.

Pat Knight promptly observed Pop’s night off Friday by grabbing a visiting player named Greg Bibb by the bib and wrestling him to the floor. Pat, too, was asked to leave, bringing new meaning to the expression: “Take the rest of the Knights off.”

I should mention on his behalf that Pat Knight’s takedown of the Tennessee Tech player was perfect. He tied two legs and one arm with a rope, leaving him in first place going into tomorrow’s bullriding competition.

Let’s discuss Pop blowing his top.

OK, so Bob Knight screams at his kid a little. I have news for everyone out there, in case they missed it from a previous publication. Bob Knight screams at everyone a little. It’s in his nature. It’s the way he coaches basketball. And here’s another bulletin: His son already knows this is the way he coaches basketball. Pat wanted to play with his father anyway. If he wanted to play with Barney the dinosaur, he would have pledged money to public television.

Everybody in short pants from Indianapolis to India knows one thing about Bob Knight, and that is that he is not touchy-feely. He is not a mollycoddler. Knight wouldn’t coddle a basketball player if her name was Molly. He behaves in a strict, military-like manner, like a drill instructor at the top of his lungs. He is neither a butt-patter nor a head-rubber. He doesn’t wrap his arms around everybody’s shoulders and sing: “We Are the World.” He is a blunt instrument.

A boy or his parents would have to be seriously stupid to agree on playing basketball for Bob Knight and then expect him not to hurt Junior’s feelings. The whole idea of playing for Knight is that when the experience is behind you, you either thank the man for turning you into a man or you hate the man’s guts. Either way, what you know going in is that unlike Mister Rogers, he does not become nicer after he changes into his sneakers.

So why the fuss over this latest muss?

Oh, he scolded Pat. Boo-hoo. Pat’s a big boy. He can take it. No, I don’t think Pop Knight should step toward his son in public and do his Lou Groza impression. But otherwise, this coach has been booting benches, slamming telephones and turning chairs into Frisbees for many years. He’s a bellicose guy. In fact, I looked up bellicose in my dictionary and it said: “(adj) 1. of a quarrelsome or hostile nature; warlike. 2. like Indiana’s basketball coach.”

Nevertheless, in announcing an unprecedented action by an administration that has tolerated practically everything this coach has ever done, school officials felt obliged to issue a terse statement: “It has been determined by Indiana University that Coach Bob Knight engaged in unsportsmanlike conduct during the Notre Dame game Tuesday, Dec. 7.” This contradicts the standing administration memo: “Dear Bob: Win lots of games and don’t worry yourself about that other stuff.”

I personally believe that either Bob’s bosses have decided to get tougher or that they really, really, really hated seeing Indiana lose to Butler.

I happen to like Knight a lot. He is what he is. Nobody has to play for him. People choose to play for him. Some regret it; most don’t. He and I disagree on certain things, which is fine. He rags writers by saying everybody learns to write by the second grade. My opinion is that this is a pretty funny opinion coming from a grown man who teaches boys how to bounce a ball.

It is senseless to try to change a leopard’s spots. Bob Knight blows up from time to time. The man probably spits lava. But that’s what has made him Bob Knight for something like 30 years of coaching. Until the day comes when he actually clenches a fist and socks a student somewhere between his contact lenses and his athletic supporter, I am inclined to roll with his punches. Indiana is not a basketball program for athletes who run home from practice and say: “Mommy, Coach Knight was so mean to me!”

Had I a son, I would let him play for Bob Knight in a heartbeat. Yes, I would live with the fear that my son would come home for the holidays and throw me to the floor. A year or two later, though, he would come home and show me his diploma and his championship ring.

Of course, Bob might not accept a sportswriter’s son, because he’d be fat and slow.