Will Ulrich: General shouldn't take Ivy command

Last Wednesday, the folks at the Harvard Crimson ran an editorial extolling the potential virtues of Harvard's hiring Bob Knight as its new men's basketball coach. In four paragraphs that sounded like, well, somebody from Harvard trying to talk basketball, the editorial board in Cambridge basically made the following case: Harvard's a nice place that has a good athletic reputation. Knight's a real good basketball coach. Thus, wouldn't it be nice if the two decided to hang out together? Now, I really don't want to sound overly critical. In reality, I agree with the crux of what the Crimson's trying to say. It's interesting and even a bit appealing to think of Bob Knight coaching in the Ivy League. For a guy who graduates his players and puts a premium on discipline and honesty, the Ancient Eight -- with its obvious emphasis on academics and dearth of soon-to-be-millionaire prima donnas -- looks to be a nice fit. Still, although I don't want to get nit-picky, I feel the Crimson's editorial misunderstands a few important issues. And, more importantly, those issues wind up pointing to an unavoidable conclusion -- that it's in Knight's best interest to never coach again. The editorial begins with a miscue that I'm sure was unintended. It reads: "Indiana University's stunning decision to fire Bobby Knight presents Harvard with a historic opportunity." Sounds fine, right? Wrong. Robert Montgomery Knight doesn't like being called Bobby. That's what he was called as a youngster, and he feels that he's grown out of it. And if the events of the past week teach us anything at all, it's that calling Bob Knight by the wrong name can lead to absolute chaos. I think Knight is one of the finest basketball coaches to ever live, but there's no doubt that he's shown himself to be an emotional midget over the past few decades. Be it throwing a chair, or assaulting a secretary, Knight has demonstrated an inability to keep his tempestuous emotions under wraps. Any way you look at it, Knight is a powder keg capable of blowing the roof of an arena sky high. The Crimson goes on to argue that Knight can push Harvard past the Ivy-dominating "triumvirate" of Dartmouth, Penn and Princeton. Now, to call Dartmouth, which hasn't won an Ivy championship since 1959, a member of a triumvirate is preposterous. If this was Rome's First Triumvirate of Caesar, Pompey and Crassus, Dartmouth would definitely be unknown Crassus. Scratch that, she'd be Crassus' butler. The editorial is most interesting in its second paragraph, which ends like this: "Taking Harvard to the Big Dance would cement his Hall of Fame credentials as an accomplishment on par with anything Dean Smith or John Wooden has done." It pains me to say it, but that statement's false. There is nothing that Bob Knight will be able to do to earn him a place next to John Wooden in the pantheon of collegiate coaching. And that wasn't always the case. By the time he made it into the Hall of Fame in 1991, Knight had accomplished virtually everything that a coach can. He'd won three national championships, an Olympic gold medal in 1984 and led Indiana teams in the 1970s that dominated college basketball and left every other coach scratching his head trying to figure out how Knight prepared his squads so well. He had the Wizard of Westwood dead in his sights, but things began to unravel. Explosive incidents worsened after the infamous chair-tossing at Purdue in 1985, and his teams began to bow out of the Tournament earlier and earlier. Knight's temper has created a tragic impediment to greatness. Whatever he does from here on -- even if he did lead Harvard to the NCAA Tournament -- will always be mentioned alongside his personal shortcomings. And as much as the Crimson might think that taking Harvard to the Dance is tantamount to walking on water, it really isn't. Harvard's a school with a great reputation, a ton of money and an ability to recruit athletes. There's no fundamental reason why it can't get past Penn and Princeton to win the league. If Knight led Harvard, the only Ivy team to never win the league title, to the NCAAs, it would serve as a charming postscript to a career that was full of promise, much realized, some squandered. It would be no miracle, and it surely wouldn't turn Bob Knight into John Wooden. Knight's the prototypical tragic hero. His demise stems from a character flaw -- a temper that should convince him to stay out of coaching. He's accomplished everything he can. He should just go home, hunt, fish and maybe even do some TV work. It's sad to hear this week of Al McGuire's losing battle with leukemia, and perhaps it's even sadder that this news comes in the midst of all the Knight hubbub. It's sad because over a decade ago, in the foreword he wrote for John Feinstein's A Season on the Brink, McGuire asked Bob Knight to pack it in. As McGuire argued, Knight had done everything he could in the world of coaching. McGuire, who himself walked away from the profession at the age of 48, wanted his friend to leave the job that he felt would bring him too much pain. He didn't want Bob Knight to become the next Woody Hayes. Hang it up, Coach. Hang it up, even though it might be too late.

Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The Daily Pennsylvanian.