Over the weekend, I learned that legendary basketball coach Bob Knight passed away last week. I gave myself pause when I read the news; Knight holds a special place in my heart for a few reasons.
My dad was a big Bob Knight fan, and at my dad’s funeral, Bob Knight’s name was brought up. Years later, at a writing retreat, one of our exercises was to write about a family legend. I shared the piece I wrote with my fellow retreat attendees, but after hearing about Bob Knight’s passing, I decided to share it here because the memory brings me peace.
Here it is:
Steve and Bob go fishing
“Would anyone like to share a story about Steve to honor his memory today?” The pastor asked the small group at my dad’s memorial service. We were in a small church in Georgia, many hours south of where my dad was born and raised in Indiana.
People stood up one by one and shared stories about my dad’s smile, his sense of humor, and his skill as a champion chess player, where he was known as UTEP.
My dad was two things: an obsessive sports fan and a talented writer. Growing up, my dad covered — what seemed like all of the athletic events in our town of 35,000 people — from tennis to gymnastics; he interviewed coaches, athletes, and fans.
Our local newspaper, The Republic, which my dad called The Repulsive, printed my dad’s articles and columns for years — even when many readers disagreed with his point of view.
On publishing days, our home phone would ring off the hook.
“If people take the time to read the column, get pissed off, and find my phone number to call me, I really struck a chord,” my dad would say. “Haters will be the first ones to read my next story!”
My dad was born with spina bifida, a disease that kept him from physically participating in many of the games he loved so much. As a child on the sidelines, he started memorizing the rules, learning plays, and documenting stats for his teammates.
Over the years, my dad became a champion for underdogs but never shied away from a good controversy.
Having been born in Indiana, I can tell you many a spicy story about the iconic hall-of-fame basketball coach Bob Knight.
Hoosier fans will tell you about his national championships, the 11 Big Ten titles, and 600+ wins just in Bloomington alone. He even has a gold medal.
But the Bob Knight fanatics will tell you about Bob’s outspoken nature and his fiery blowups on the sidelines. He’s best known for throwing a chair across the basketball court mid-game, for which he was ejected, choking a player, and was arrested for confronting a police officer.
Another fun fact about Coach Knight? He hated journalists.
Back in that church in Georgia, my grandpa stood to share a memory about his eldest son.
“For years, Steve loved IU basketball and Bob Knight,” he started. “Steve ran into Bob at a local coffee shop and asked him if he ever wanted to go fishing.”
“Bob agreed to go fishing if Steve followed a single rule: Absolutely NO questions about basketball.”
Legend has it my dad and Bob went fishing. Turns out Bob loves basketball, but he also loves bass.
After the service, guests moved into the church basement, where there were trays of fruit and bowls of chips. I sat next to my grandpa and asked him if his story about Dad and Coach Knight was true. He swore it was.
My uncles weren’t so sure but agreed that of any sports journalist, Steve is the one that would end up baiting hooks with Bob Knight.
Years after hearing this story, no one in my family can confirm or deny this fishing trip ever happened or what exactly occurred during it.
Having been fishing numerous times with my dad near Bloomington, I can imagine the crisp morning air of it, though.
During the drive, my dad definitely tried to put on talk radio, and Bob slapped the volume nob all the way down.
They likely stopped at a bait shop nearby that sells styrofoam cups full of worms and coffee fit for the 4 a.m. wake-up call.
From the lake, you can hear the booms from practice at Camp Atterbury. And the water is so still on the surface that it looks like glass.
If I had to guess, I bet Bob showed up with a ridiculous tackle box and an expensive rod he ordered online. He probably scoffed at my dad’s old red box with the gummy bait organized by color.
Since basketball was off-limits, I’m certain my dad made a joke about how they could just talk about Notre Dame football and how the actual Rudy is kind of a dick.
I bet they spent the majority of their time talking about life in Indiana, books, and fishing. My dad would yell out, “It’s a lunker!” When there was tension on his line — even before he knew what was on the end of it.
I’m certain this annoyed the piss out of Bob, and I know my dad loved it.
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I’m sending Coach Knight’s family, friends, players, and fans wishes of peace. May his legacy be a blessing.
The Bitter Lemon 
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