Cut through the clutter and the debate about Bob Knight comes down to this: Either you believe a coach with a few priors – but a stellar resume otherwise – is allowed to pop a kid in the chin to get his attention, or he isn’t.

Not that Knight cares what you think.

“If that’s an issue,” he said, “then I’m living in the wrong country.”

Not necessarily, though the country he’s living in is as divided about sports as it is about politics, and Knight just might be the most polarizing figure in it.

At the risk of oversimplification, his side subscribes to the amateur model, which holds that playing is a privilege, the front of the jersey is sacred and the coach always knows best. Always. The other side favors the pro model, in which sports is a business, loyalty is overrated and the players call the shots. It’s hardly coincidence, then, that Knight never took his act to the NBA, where more than a few guys there wouldn’t think twice about popping him back, or worse.

Though they might be factors, age and race don’t explain the divide. Because barely 24 hours after Knight cuffed Texas Tech reserve Michael Prince to ensure they made eye contact, he walked into the United Spirit Arena to hear Prince’s fellow students chanting, “Bobby! Bobby!” in unison. And Knight has never lacked for players, black or white, or parents willing to commit to the cause.

That’s why Prince himself termed the episode “nothing,” and his parents, both of whom played college basketball at Western Kentucky, couldn’t understand what the fuss and the nonstop replays on TV were about.

That’s also why Jarrius Jackson, a kid Knight recently suspended for two weeks to get his grades in order, said after the Red Raiders clobbered Arkansas-Little Rock, “To be honest, I didn’t know it happened until I got home last night and saw it on TV. I don’t think he did anything wrong, you know. It’s just being coach, really.

“And I think,” Jackson added, “any other coach in America can do that, too.”

The simple fact is that no other coach in America would, but Knight has been doing that for most of his career, and even though it finally cost him his job at Indiana, he isn’t about to stop now. That’s one of the reasons he came out of exile and settled in Lubbock, Texas; the other reasons being Gerald Myers, an old pal and athletic director who’s as tame as they come, and a chance to collect enough “W’s” to climb past Dean Smith and become the all-time winningest coach in Division I.

That doesn’t mean Knight isn’t loyal, just the opposite. The plague of college sports at the moment is a lack of accountability, and that’s never been his problem. Knight doesn’t cut corners, he graduates his players and stays in touch.

Butven Knight’s staunchest supporters worry that he still might pull a stunt severe enough to grease the skids at Texas Tech. Ohio State coaching legend Woody Hayes, one of Knight’s heroes, got away with manhandling his own players for years, but was shown the exit after he used the same tactics on an opponent.

Showing a lack of discipline yourself might be a funny way to teach discipline to others, especially since Knight could have yelled to get the kid’s attention, or lifted Prince’s gaze with something more gentle than a pop. But apparently it’s the kind of lesson that a lot of people in sports are hungering for at the moment.