Bob Knight, c’est moi

Wed, 27 Sep 2000 19:00:00 +0000

No, I've never hit a Puerto Rican policeman before practice at the Pan-American games; stuffed a fan from an opposing team in a garbage can; told Connie Chung, "I think that if rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it"; told women, "There's only two things you people are good for: having babies and frying bacon"; pretended to bullwhip my star player; waved used toilet paper in my players' faces to provide them with a metaphor for their poor play; tossed a chair across the court during a game; kicked my son -- a player on the team -- in the leg during another game; head-butted a player during yet another game; or choked another player during practice. But neither have I won three NCAA championships, twice been named coach of the year, coached the United States to an Olympic gold medal, won more than 700 college basketball games or had a higher graduation rate among my players than nearly any other Division I basketball coach.

Me? I remember being simultaneously a graduate student in the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop and a patient in the university's equally renowned Speech Clinic, and being overwhelmed by the paradox that as an apprentice writer I was learning to manipulate words, but that as a stutterer I was at the mercy of them. How had my life come to this, I wondered, shuttling back and forth between two four-story brick buildings, two houses of language?

The guilty pleasures of Seattle

Thu, 01 Jun 2000 18:01:00 +0000

A few years ago a Seattle Times food critic said that there was an optimum number of French restaurants a city should have -- any less, and it wasn't a real city; too many, and there was something wrong about the place.

One can safely assume that Seattle now has too many French restaurants. Even a few years ago, after clear weather, you couldn't see smog for three days; now you can see it after one day. Eddie Bauer was once the brand name of choice, even for downtown businessmen; Tiffany's and Cartier are now in Pacific Place, Neiman-Marcus in the Westlake Center. Everyone downtown seems to be wearing designer eyewear, Italian shoes, expensive leather coats. Late-model SUVs ("I'm in touch with nature") and Volvos ("I'm intellectual") are ubiquitous, though very few Mercedes or BMWs, at least in the neighborhoods where I drive. A friend who was a successful potter was forced to give up his studio when the rent doubled, so he's now remodeling houses for millionaires half his age.

Salon.com > David Shields

Bob Knight, c’est moi

The guilty pleasures of Seattle