SI writers recall unique experiences with Knight

	As former Hoosier Ricky Calloway could tell you, having a thick skin was key in dealing with Bobby Knight in any context. John Iacono/SI

SI senior writers Jack McCallum and Alex Wolff, and freelance writer Billy Reed share their memories of Bobby Knight, now the winningest men's coach in  NCAA Division I basketball history.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Only through the intervention of Rich Clarkson, then an SI photographer and one of the few media people whom Knight liked and trusted, did the General agree to be interviewed during the 1982-83 season. Well, kind of agree. "I think he'll talk to you," Clarkson told me. To get even that commitment was a diplomatic coup, for at the time Knight detested SI, a sentiment that has withstood the test of time.

When I entered the Indiana locker room in the late morning, Knight was meeting with his assistant coaches. He didn't look up. When he did, he gazed upon me much as an exterminator would look upon a particularly objectionable species of vermin. I explained to him the benign thesis of my story -- the outstanding play of senior stars Randy Wittman and Ted Kitchel -- and threw out a few softball questions.

After a few minutes, the subject turned to Jim Thomas, a talented but under-aggressive (as Knight saw it) swingman. Knight suddenly lurched off his seat and latched onto the top of my shirt, grabbing a fistful of neck and chest hair with it. I'm paraphrasing here, but Knight said something like: "We have to get Jim Thomas meaner!"

He held on to me for at least 10 seconds. I was in pain, but I just nodded my head as if this kind of thing happened all the time, and the interview went on. He allowed me to watch practice that day and we even went to dinner that night (with Clarkson and his close friend, Bloomington Times-Herald sports editor Bob Hammel), where Knight splashed 7-Up into his glass of wine, daring someone to call him on it. After the story didn't run because IU suffered a bad loss while I was there, Knight even graciously took my explanatory follow-up phone call.

"Hell, I'm in the inner circle," I thought.

Later that season, I went back to Bloomington to re-do the story.

"What do you want, Jack?" he said after the game, an Indiana victory.

"Just a few questions," I said, pleased that he remembered my name.

"I don't have time for you now," he said. And that was that.

To this day, I have no idea if his grabbing me was a spontaneous act or some kind of test. I suspect the latter, but, the curious thing is, I have no idea if I passed it or not.

-- Jack McCallum