The Bobby Knight story

I've struggled with what I want to say about this silly Bobby Knight controversy that flashed since he, apparently revved up by the laughs and adulation of a bunch of folks back home again in Indiana, made up a crack on UK that its men's basketball starters two years ago weren't attending class. I struggled with what I wanted to say even in that first sentence. What a truly goofy thing to even focus on. It's who cares, on top of doesn't matter, on top of wasn't accurate. And yet here I am about to hit the return key to Paragraph 2 and keep blathering on.

I've very much disliked Bobby Knight most of my life. I was born in Evansville, Ind., but spent ages 5 through 18 in Paducah, Ky., from 1973 through '86. The result of being and doing in these particular times and places was that I was a huge UK-basketball fan who was forever ending up at Thanksgivings, Christmases, etc., feeling pressured to defend Joe B. Hall to folks who either felt completely certain that their coach was better, tougher, smarter and of more integrity than ours or, even worse, wished we had their guy instead of ours.

In the years since then, though, it has become easier to be a pro-Joe B/anti-Knight guy. For one thing, neither is now the flag-bearer for the UK-IU rivalry, and, besides, the rivalry itself isn't what it used to be.

Also, Joe B's record seems more impressive than it did when he retired in 1985, now that we saw that the talent level of the players coming to UK in the early 1980s wasn't as dreamy as we had all believed it to be and now that it has become clear just how hard it is to keep the Wildcats among the nation's elite teams. Plus, Joe B never took another coaching job; it turned out he really was the kid from Cynthiana who got to realize his dream, who rode that roller-coaster of blessing and curse for as long as he could and who has spent the rest of his life processing the enormity of the experience from behind a banker's desk, at a microphone or on the end of a fishing pole. And through his radio show, we've gotten to know a pretty darned lovable Joe B--amiable, willing to acknowledge his limitations and failures, seemingly non-angry over a relative lack of appreciation for his accomplishments, well-adjusted ... happy.

And Knight? Well, I've already acknowledged that I'm not the right guy to come to if you're looking for someone to give him a fair shake, but I think it is fair to say that we've moved a long, long way from the days when a "BOBBY KNIGHT FOR PRESIDENT" bumper sticker was on about every fourth pickup you saw on a rural-Indiana highway.

So then bubbles up this story, and it tempts every small part of myself. I am tempted to mock, to ridicule, to skewer. And I am not alone.

But, you know what? Today is Maundy Thursday, and it's high time to at least start acting like I've learned something from Jesus.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

The revolution to which Jesus calls me (in fact, calls you, too) begins in my heart--first personal, then hopefully corporate. The revolution will not be televised (in fact, if it is televised, that probably means I've picked the wrong revolution). And, a lot of times (in fact, maybe most of the time or all of the time), the acts resulting from the faith yielded by the revolution will not look tough, smart or of integrity--even among people I respect and love.

This is not some clever writing device to blow the little and particular into something big and sweeping. I really do think God gets down to all of the small, seemingly meaningless places that our little hearts and minds take us. Jesus taught his disciples about the kingdom of God and His ministry by telling stories about fishing, farming, cooking, parenting ... the most ordinary and common of stuff in their lives. I think Jesus is constantly meeting me in places like Bobby Knight, interstate merge lanes and office squabbles to get me to turn around and follow Him somewhere bigger.

And this is not some tactical, kill-him-with-kindness strategy to appear to put myself on the high road and Bobby Knight on the low. There are instances we are called to call out wrong, reckless and hurtful behavior, and, Bobby Knight, you were behaving wrongly, recklessly and hurtfully. But Jesus calls me to honestly, humbly love Bobby Knight, and that's where it gets hard. Not complicated, just hard.

And on this Maundy Thursday, I know in my heart that I'm struggling to do that. I know in my heart that I'm still inclined to betray Jesus and deny His call. Bobby Knight is the latest opportunity for me to turn around and follow.