That Championship Touch

"Dad threw me out of practice a lot of times to prove a point to his players," Steve says. "That may be the hardest thing, taking punishment for something somebody else did. But I'm a leader, and my teammates are supposed to learn from that.

"Many times in the last four years when I've been kicked out, I'd get emotional. But every time I think I'm right and he's wrong, I look at the film, and it's amazing. He's right and I'm wrong."

Knight, who calls Alford "the little sonofabitch," says he will miss him: "If you were married to Miss America and she walked out, how would you feel?"

For his part, Alford will always appreciate Knight. "There's nothing in the way of pressure or intensity the world can throw at me now that I haven't already seen," he says. But he won't exactly miss him. "Even though I helped win a national championship for him, I could walk into his office tomorrow, and he'd say something to put himself up here"—Alford gestures above his head—"and me down here"—he lowers his hand. "But that's where he feels he has to be. And look what he's helped do for me."

Will everyone please take out their copies of A Season on the Brink, the banned-by-Bob No. 1 best-seller about Knight and Indiana basketball? Certainly you 1986-87 Hoosiers have yours, too, hidden away in dresser drawers. Turn to page 19. There Knight berates Alford's defense. On page 37, he rips his work habits. On page 65, he trashes his leadership ability, telling him he couldn't "lead a whore into bed."

Knight is half right: You can't believe everything you see in print. Alford can play a little defense. He has worked his way into the first round of the NBA draft and is the second-leading scorer in Big Ten history. As for leadership, he has shown that he can lead a team as far as it can be led.

The long winter is over. After six seasons and 159 games, it is April now, springtime for a guy who can't jump. This is Hoosier Wisteria.