A Season Inside (17 page)

Indiana was 2–0, including an impressive victory earlier in the week over Notre Dame.

But it had already been a tough season for Bob Knight. Perhaps in the future he should consider sitting out the next season after a major victory in his life. In 1977, following Indiana’s 1976 national title, he had thrown three players off the team after an incident in Alaska and gone 14–13, his worst record ever at Indiana. In 1982, after his 1981 national championship, Knight thought about giving up coaching, was distracted all season, and watched his team struggle to win nineteen games. In 1985, the year after the Olympic gold medal, he threw the infamous chair.

Now came 1987. In March, the Hoosiers had won the national title. In November, they opened their season with an exhibition game against the Soviet Union. Knight had complained publicly that American colleges shouldn’t play the Soviets because all they were doing was helping prepare them—the enemy—for the Olympics. But he then scheduled them himself, largely because he thought he could beat them.

He was wrong. The Soviets played perhaps their best game of the tour in Bloomington and were up 60–43 early in the second half when
Knight began ranting at referee Jim Burr about one of the Soviets’ taking a place on the foul lane illegally during a free throw. Burr gave Knight one technical. He raged on. Two technicals. Still, he continued. Finally, three technicals. Knight was ejected. Burr told him he had to leave. Knight refused.

“If you don’t leave,” Burr said, “then the game is forfeited.”

“I’m not leaving,” Knight said.

“Is that final?” Burr asked. Knight nodded. Burr marched to the scorer’s table to make the forfeit official. In the meantime, Knight was screaming at Bill Wall, the executive director of ABA-USA and the sponsor of the tour and the game, to do something—intervene. Wall was not going to intervene during a game. Burr signed the forfeit. Knight took his team off the floor.

It was an awful and humiliating moment for Knight, for Indiana, and for the United States. The Soviets were completely bewildered, as were the Indiana fans. The next day Knight “apologized,” as only he can, blaming his past relationship with Burr for the incident and saying he was sorry Indiana’s fans didn’t get to see the last fifteen minutes of the game.

Two days later, Indiana President Thomas Ehrlich, undoubtedly delighted that Knight would pull such a stunt during his first year as IU’s president, issued a “strong reprimand” to Knight for his actions. Exactly what a “strong reprimand” was no one knew for sure, but one thing was fairly certain: Ehrlich had no desire to begin his tenure at Indiana by having a confrontation with the most popular man in the state.

Knight’s apology was meaningless. During the next few days he told friends that the incident was Burr’s fault and that it was unfair that he had been accused of pulling his team off the floor since he had only told his players to leave after the game had been forfeited. The fact that his actions caused the forfeit didn’t affect Knight’s semantical game at all.

Perhaps most amazing was Knight’s reaction to Wall’s refusal to step into the debacle. Wall had been a Knight loyalist throughout his tenure as Olympic coach, a good friend who let Knight do exactly what he wanted even if it angered others. Even in the aftermath of this incident—which had made a mockery of an international game—Wall refused to be critical of Knight.

And yet, Knight was furious with Wall because he hadn’t intervened
during the game. The incident, in Knight’s mind, was Burr’s fault and also Wall’s fault. He, of course, was not at fault in any way. He cut off all communication with Wall, who accepted his fate like any good soldier would, never once suggesting that perhaps Knight’s behavior might make him a less-than-appropriate cochairman of the 1988 Olympic selection committee.

Indiana had other problems that would become public during the season. Knight was unhappy with Rick Calloway, the two-year starter at small forward who was being asked to play inside more this season. Knight considered benching him for the Kentucky game but decided against it. That would come later.

And then there was Keith Smart. The hero of New Orleans after making the jump shot that beat Syracuse in the national championship game, Smart had spent most of the preseason in the doghouse. One day in practice, Knight had told Smart that he was “the worst player in America.”

This was hardly unusual. Knight likes to keep his stars from getting big heads, and with Smart’s New Orleans success he had reason for extra concern. But unlike the seniors of 1987, Steve Alford, Daryl Thomas, and Steve Eyl, Smart had not had three years of preparation to deal with the constant mental pounding Knight’s seniors are expected to take. Because he was a junior college transfer he had only been in the program for one year, and much of that year he had been sheltered by the presence of those three seniors.

Now he was getting blasted and having a tough time with it. His early play reflected that. One day in practice, Knight got so angry with Smart that he took the entire team into the locker room and made the players tell Smart how bad he was. Insiders insisted this was not merely “BK Theater,” the tag the players put on Knight’s infamous mind games. Smart really was playing poorly.

And yet the Indiana team that came into the Hoosier Dome appeared capable of defending its national title. Smart was bound to come around, and two precocious freshmen, Jay Edwards and Lyndon Jones, had been added to an already deep team.

The other teams were question marks. Kentucky had the 1988 version of Steve Alford in Rex Chapman, the sophomore guard so beloved in Kentucky that he was tagged “The Boy King” by the media. To think that race is not a factor in these things is naïve. Most of the fans who get in to see Indiana and Kentucky play are white. Most of the
players they watch are black. When a truly gifted white player comes along, he quickly becomes a hero to the white fans. Alford had been through this at Indiana, now Chapman had that status at Kentucky.

Indiana-Kentucky was clearly the feature game, so much so that ABC-TV, which was televising the doubleheader, asked that it be made the second game, a reversal of the original schedule. Louisville had won the national title in 1986 but hadn’t even made the NCAA Tournament in 1987. Notre Dame had reached the round of sixteen in 1987, but that was the first time it had made any noise at all in postseason play since Danny Ainge had gone ninety-four feet through five players in five seconds to beat the Irish in the 1981 round of sixteen.

Since then, Digger Phelps had been a well-dressed coach who spent a lot of time winning games against Yale and Pennsylvania. Notre Dame’s schedule contained so many walkover games that the joke around the Midwest was that the Irish were going after a fourth straight Ivy League championship.

They did have one very special player, though, in David Rivers. Beyond being a superb guard, Rivers was a profile in courage. He had almost died in a serious automobile accident in August of 1986, but had come back to play the entire season. Phelps sang Rivers’s praises so often and so highly that, as good as he was, Rivers could not possibly live up to his billing.

Except in the Hoosier Dome, he did. From the start, it was apparent that Louisville wasn’t ready to play. Perhaps the Dome background affected the Cardinals’ shooting, but their zero-for-fourteen from three-point range was pathetic any way you looked at it. And Rivers was giving LaBradford Smith, Louisville’s talented freshman, a lesson in college basketball.

Rivers did everything but freshen up Phelps’s flower. He penetrated over and over for easy baskets. When the Cardinals tried to lay back, he bombed from outside. Rivers is small at six feet and perhaps 160 pounds, but he can take a pounding. He has a knack for bouncing off people like a pinball running back and never losing his balance. He scored 32 points and had 7 rebounds. Smith, who would become a very good player during the season, fouled out with 5 points on 1-of-5 shooting and 5 turnovers. He had a cut lip to boot. Welcome to the big time, kid.

Notre Dame won 69–54 and it really wasn’t that close. The Cardinals
shot 37 percent for the game and weren’t totally embarrassed only because center Pervis Ellison, missing in action for much of his sophomore year, started his junior season with 23 points and 9 rebounds. That was an encouraging sign for Denny Crum, who had gone through a strange three seasons: 19–18, 30–7 (national championship), and 18–14.

But that game was only the warmup act. Rivers had been a man among boys, but now it was time to bring the men in blue and the men in red out.

This is not your average rivalry between two programs that always produce good teams. There is genuine animosity between the two schools. Knight and Sutton are on-again, off-again friends. Publicly, each tries to be complimentary of the other, but privately there is no love lost.

Beyond that, Kentucky fans greatly resent the aspersions Knight has cast on their program over the years. Once, during an interview on the Kentucky radio network, Knight said the Kentucky-Indiana rivalry didn’t mean very much to him, “because of all the crap that’s gone on down here [Kentucky] in recruiting over the years.”

That sort of “crap” would rear its head again in the spring when a Kentucky assistant was accused of putting $1,000 in $50 bills in a package containing a tape that he had sent to the father of Kentucky recruit Chris Mills.

Knight had even told friends as recently as 1986 that he wanted to discontinue the series with Kentucky. But since Sutton was only in his third year at Kentucky, Knight had decided, at least for the moment, to take him at his word when he said the program was now clean. The money involved in the doubleheader might have had a little to do with that liberal stance on Knight’s part.

If Kentucky-Indiana occasionally got ugly
off
the court, it was never anything less than fabulous
on
the court. From the start, this was a game worthy of all the hoopla surrounding it. Calloway, whose Indiana career would end unhappily in March, was superb, scoring 26 points and pulling down 11 rebounds. He kept the game close because Smart and Dean Garrett were cold most of the day, shooting two-for-nine and eight-for-twenty-four respectively.

Their performances mirrored those of Chapman and UK forward Winston Bennett, who were six-for-eighteen and three-of-eight, respectively. The Kentucky heroes on this day were Ed Davender (22 points)
and previously little-used senior big men Rob Lock (14 points, 8 rebounds) and Cedric Jenkins (14 points, 10 rebounds). Jenkins would become a forgotten man after New Year’s but on this day he was formidable.

No one ever really had command of the game. Kentucky took a 22–17 lead, helped by an intentional foul call that almost made Knight crazy. “
Jesus Christ!”
he shrieked at the referee, kicking (fortunately) the air in disgust. The Hoosiers came back to lead 27–24 and led 38–36 at the half on a rebound basket by Edwards, the gifted freshman.

Indiana pushed the lead to 46–40 early in the second half, forcing Sutton to call time. Just as the teams broke their huddles, a huge cheer went up from the Notre Dame section. Their fans, listening to various Walkmans throughout the stands, had just heard football player Tim Brown announced as the Heisman Trophy winner in New York. David Rivers never got a cheer that loud.

Kentucky came right back to lead 50–49 on a Jenkins ten-footer, then got a six-point lead of its own at 57–51 with 8:03 left. Indiana came back, tying the score at 59. Back and forth they went, the defensive intensity at both ends remarkable. Truly, this was a March atmosphere in December. During one possession, Garrett blocked three different Kentucky players’ shots.

They finally came to the last minute even at 67–67. Kentucky went inside to Lock, who was fouled with forty-seven seconds to go. He made both free throws for a 69–67 lead. Indiana wanted to go to Garrett. Steve Eyl got it to him, but he bobbled the ball and Lock grabbed it. He quickly passed it to Chapman, who was fouled with twenty-five seconds left.

The Boy King doesn’t miss free throws. He made both and Kentucky had control at 71–67. Smart missed another shot, but this time Garrett rebounded and hit the follow with nine seconds left, making it 71–69. IU called time.

During the time-out, Sutton set up an inbounds play to get the ball to Lock, who had made all sixteen free throws he had taken during the season. The ball went to Lock and he was fouled immediately. Naturally, he missed. Indiana raced down, out of time-outs. Calloway drove from the right, where he was cut off by Jenkins and Lock. His shot was way short. But Edwards grabbed it in midair and in one motion tossed it through the hoop just before the buzzer sounded.

Overtime.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Lock said later. “I felt like I had given away the game.”

He hadn’t. Kentucky kept its cool in overtime and Garrett and Smart kept missing. Chapman, however, did not. With the Hoosiers leading 76–75, he calmly tossed in a three-pointer with 1:48 left to put the Wildcats up by two. IU had three chances to tie: Garrett missed from the field, Smart missed the front end of a one-and-one, and Smart turned the ball over. Chapman grabbed the loose ball when Smart lost it and threw a long pass to Richard Madison, who dunked with thirty-three seconds left. This time, the Hoosiers couldn’t rally and Kentucky had the victory.

Kentucky celebrated as if it had won the national championship. Most amazing perhaps was the reaction of the Louisville fans: They celebrated along with their hated in-state rivals. Knight left the building a few minutes after the buzzer with a copy of
The Hunt for Red October
tucked under his arm.

So far, it had been a pretty blue season for him. And there was more to come.

If he coaches for twenty-five years, Rick Barnes will remember the first month of his career as a head coach in striking detail.

He had started with a 22-point loss, missing his starting point guard who had been suspended because of cheating allegations. He had followed that with career victory number one, a romp over North Carolina–Greensboro. That had been followed by a stunning upset of Wichita State, an NCAA team in 1987 (and, as it turned out, 1988) in a wild game that ended 95–94 with Wichita State Coach Eddie Fogler furious at the officials.