Blacksburg, Va. ? John Chaney resembled a sedated dental patient more than a Hall of Fame basketball coach.

Maybe that’s how to play it when your job’s in jeopardy. Maybe that’s how to play it when you’ve embarrassed your university, tarnished your legacy and harmed a rival player.

During preseason, Chaney believed this could be one of his best Temple teams. Instead, the Owls and Chaney made a mess of things, and their season ended Tuesday with a sluggish 60-50 loss to Virginia Tech in the first round of the National Invitation Tournament.

“Chaney’s fired. Chaney’s fired,” Tech’s students chanted during the waning seconds.

It could happen. Oh, Temple will call it a retirement, but retirement wasn’t an issue for this 73-year-old grandfather of four until last month.

His malfeasance has been well chronicled: In a media conference call the day before Temple’s Feb. 22 game against city rival Saint Joseph’s, Chaney ranted about the Hawks setting illegal screens. Crossing the line, he warned of retaliation from “goons” on his bench.

Tragically, Chaney was true to his word. He sent seldom-used, 6-foot-8, 250-pound Nehemiah Ingram into the game to commit hard fouls, to send a message. One of Ingram’s hacks left Saint Joseph’s John Bryant prone on the floor, grimacing in pain.

After the game, Chaney was unapologetic, calling himself as a “mean, ornery S.O.B.” Idiot would have been a more accurate description.

Not until the next day did consequences dawn. That’s when Saint Joseph’s announced that Bryant, a senior, was finished for the season because of a broken arm. That’s when Chaney and Temple began a contrition concert, the sum of which was a five-game suspension, three to conclude the regular season, two in the Atlantic 10 tournament.

Chaney entered the Basketball Hall of Fame four years ago in a class that included Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski, winner of three national titles and 10 regional championships. Chaney has yet to make a Final Four, but his induction was more than warranted.

Glittering record at Temple (499-238 in 23 years) and a Division Two national title at Cheyney State aside, Chaney earned enshrinement with his tireless advocacy for impoverished athletes. He offered education and structure to many unfamiliar with either.

That’s why Chaney’s behavior last month, and on several other occasions during his career, is so confounding and disappointing. The man who demands discipline from his athletes too often can not find it in himself.

Many have compared Chaney’s behavior to the sideline punch that ended Woody Hayes’ football-coaching career at Ohio State. But there are few parallels.

In a spontaneous fit of frustration, Hayes poked at Clemson defensive lineman Charlie Bauman after Bauman’s late-game interception in the 1978 Gator Bowl, a 65-year-old man throwing his best haymaker at a padded college-aged lineman.

Chaney’s actions were worse. Chaney’s actions were premeditated.

“How did it feel to be back on the bench?” a reporter asked Chaney after Tuesday’s game.

“I’m here to talk about my players,” Chaney said. “That’s it.”

About five minutes of game chatter later, another reporter tiptoed into the water.

“I think I hear my mother calling,” Chaney said. “I’ll leave you if you have no more questions about my kids.”

And so he left, perhaps for good.