The surprising resignation, but not necessarily retirement, of Bob Knight this week brought with it a flood of memories. Knight was a fascinating man, full of contradictions. He was smarter than the average journalist and probably smarter than the average college professor. He suffered fools not at all, even those who could help him win games. He was rarely boring, almost always entertaining and ever so proud of the fact he did it his way.

When he walked out on Texas Tech, the university that had preserved his career, Knight did what he preached his players never should do: He quit. He quit on his players, his school and himself. What he demanded from others, he was unwilling to do himself.

In the end, he was a hypocrite -- do as I say, not as I do.

He was ornery, arrogant, crass, combative, profane. He got away with that because he was a basketball genius. He was a master teacher and strategist. He won three NCAA championships, not always with the most talented players, and was the winningest coach in college basketball history. But it was the off-the-court Knight we best remember.

In 1984, at the NCAA tournament regional in Atlanta, Knight was at an interview session before his Indiana team played North Carolina, coached by Dean Smith and included Michael Jordan, Sam Perkins and Brad Daugherty. Knight was pressed hard about his matchup with Smith, the two reigning geniuses of the game but with one large difference. Smith, the quintessential gentleman, was widely revered; Knight, the quintessential bully, was not.

In almost every mention of the North Carolina coach, Knight referred to him as "Smith." No one called him "Smith." He was either "Dean" or "Dean Smith." To Knight that day, he was "Smith." Knight did little or nothing by accident. He was as calculating as they come. In talking as he did about the North Carolina coach, he was dispensing as much disrespect as he could.

Now flash ahead 16 years to 2000 when an Indiana student, probably seeking a confrontation, ran into the coach on campus and said, "Hey, what's up Knight?"

The very same disrespect he dished out to Smith was too much for Knight to accept. He grabbed Kent Harvey, 19, by the arm and lectured him about manners.

Knight, having been put on a zero-tolerance policy by Indiana president Myles Brand, was fired. Poetic justice.

At that very same Atlanta regional, a day after fourth-seeded Indiana had upset first-seeded North Carolina, 72-68, Knight was at his charming best. He mesmerized the media with his wisdom and wit. At one point, the moderator of the news conference told the assembled writers there was time for only a few more questions.

Knight's response has stuck with me to this day. "I don't know about you," he said to the moderator, "but I stick around for as long as these gentlemen want to ask me questions."

And he did. That was one Knight. Here's another, and one much more well known.

The next day, Indiana was upset by seventh-seeded Virginia, 50-48. Knight arrived at the postgame news conference understandably angry. Early on, perhaps by the second question which was fairly innocuous, he erupted in a rage and stormed out of the room.

At the 1984 Olympics, as he directed Jordan and what was a dream team before there was "The Dream Team," to a gold medal, Knight displayed another side of his personality.

At the Olympics, all questions were translated into English and French. Since virtually all questions at the basketball news conference were in English, only a French translation was required. Invariably, Knight would launch into his answer before the translator could even begin. He would stop and show his annoyance while the translator finished.

The translator did not appreciate Knight's behavior. Whether he noticed that or someone else did, the next day Knight arrived with a bouquet of flowers for the translator, who was female, young and attractive. Knight playfully flirted with her through the remaining sessions.

After leaving Indiana, Knight built a successful program at Texas Tech but never anything approaching what he had at Indiana. He wouldn't or couldn't change. There once was a time when players wanted the kind of basketball education Knight could provide. Such players are rare today.

At Texas Tech, he succeeded in breaking Smith's record for the most victories and eventually surpassed 900. He also crafted a deal where his son, Pat, who failed in trying to get other head coaching jobs, would succeed him. The man who believed in the hard road to success for others, did not force that same path on his son.

Yes, he did it his way. Too often, though, it was the wrong way.