Ron Kantowski salutes the retiring General, Bob Knight

By Ron Kantowski

Wednesday, Feb. 6, 2008 | 2 a.m.

I like Bob Knight. In my profession, that’s like someone admitting he likes soccer.

I like Bob Knight because I grew up in Indiana, although just barely. You could walk to the Chicago city limits from the house I grew up in, but I would advise against it, because there always were some unsavory-looking characters hanging around the cigarette shacks and liquor stores that formed a citadel on the state line.

I didn’t graduate from Indiana but I cheered for the Hoosiers, because Northwestern was terrible, my dad cheered for Purdue and my buddies cheered for Notre Dame. I wanted to be different. I guess I could have cheered for DePaul, which would have been different, but Ray Meyer’s teams didn’t play defense like Bob Knight’s teams. I like defense — because it wins championships. Plus, a college campus should have grass on it. DePaul’s had “L” tracks.

I like Bob Knight, although I’m not a big fan of chair throwing or choke holding (except at pro wrestling matches) or questionable advice, such as, “If rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it.”

But I do believe in discipline, going to class and loyalty that is unconditional. And I like Bob Knight because there is a human side to him that ESPN rarely documents, because acts involving kindness and compassion don’t generate ratings like acts involving fire and brimstone.

Bob Knight resigned as Texas Tech coach Monday, and somewhere in Puerto Rico there’s a retired cop quite pleased by the news. When it comes to his legacy, I’ll defer to the John Feinsteins and the Digger Phelpses and the Jay Bilases and all the others who have spent any part of any season on a brink with Knight, somewhere I’ve never been.

But I thought I would take the occasion of his retirement to share a couple of anecdotes about Knight — not so much to change your opinion of the man, but to show that beneath the gruff exterior lies an interior that is very easy to like.

• • •

In a previous life, I had a lawyer pal from New Mexico. His name was — still is, in fact — Doug Echols. He sort of looked like Frank Layden, the old Utah Jazz coach, and his idea of a good time was hopping a plane on short notice to attend various sporting events, such as the Indy 500 or the Fiesta Bowl or even a Cactus League baseball game, and he would pay for all of the beers and most of the plane tickets, if you didn’t have the necessary frequent flier miles.

One of Doug’s favorite stories is a chance meeting he had with Knight during the 1992 NCAA West Regional in Albuquerque. Doug was staying at the Hilton and the Hoosiers were staying at the adjoining Fairfield, or vice versa, when he and Knight met in the middle, at the hotel gift shop.

Doug says there must have been 20 kids chasing after Knight, pestering him for an autograph, and they were getting very loud and rambunctious and nearly toppled a display case containing a bunch of little glass keepsakes with the New Mexico state seal on them. Knight read those kids the riot act for disturbing the woman working the cash register and for not respecting her work space.

He barked at the youngsters, who by then knew what it was like to be Calbert Cheaney after not picking up the open man, and told them to leave the gift shop. He made them line up against the wall in the lobby. Then he signed an autograph for every one. Then he made the Indiana players, who were having breakfast next door, sign their names, too.

Too bad ESPN missed it.

• • •

In a previous life, before the previous one mentioned above, I had a kid brother named Ray, who didn’t appreciate defense as much as I did, because at 6-foot-5 he could shoot right over guys and didn’t have to move his feet and block out to get a little playing time.

Several years ago, my “little” brother moved to Albuquerque and became a New Mexico season ticket holder primarily so when Texas Tech came to town, his seats would be a little closer to where The General was standing and he might even get a chance to touch his sweater.

Didn’t happen. But my bro did get to talk to Pat Knight, Bob’s son, which can happen when you know the back way into The Pit and show up at 10 o’clock in the morning, an hour before the visiting team’s shootaround. Ray and Pat chatted like they were old pals and my brother was so appreciative that he wrote Pat’s old man a letter, telling him what a nice son he had raised.

A few days later, my brother received a letter with the Texas Tech logo on it. It was from Bob Knight, thanking him for what he had written about Pat. It was just about the nicest compliment a parent could receive, The General said.

My brother said it was like getting a letter from the president.

If ESPN wants to see it, it’s hanging on the wall in his trophy room. In a thick frame. With mood lighting. Just follow the scent of the flowers and the incense and don’t forget to pay the $5 viewing charge.