There is one basketball coach who would fill Williams Arena immediately, win games and graduate players. That would be Bobby Knight, currently in his sixth season at Texas Tech.
Knight recently signed a contract extension that was intended to have him finish his career at Tech.
The extension makes the odds very long against bringing Knight back to the Big Ten, yet there are energetic people with strong ties to the University of Minnesota who would like to give it a try.
To make such a run at Knight, these folks would need a go-ahead from Robert Bruininks, the university president, and also the acquiescence of athletic director Joel Maturi.
This type of hire could only happen in the manner in which Lou Holtz was brought to Minnesota in December 1983: Several business people received approval from university officials, met Holtz on his home ground and made the deal.
Once this was done, Holtz came to Minneapolis, granted the search committee the formality of an audience, and was announced as the replacement for Smokey Joe Salem.
There were a couple of flaws in Holtz's hiring: One, he still was young enough to have happy feet; and two, he had only a modest interest in the NCAA rulebook.
Holtz brought a tremendous enthusiasm to Gophers football, filling the Metrodome for two seasons. And then he was gone to Notre Dame by Thanksgiving 1985 -- with the high jinks involving university character Luther Darville to be revealed later.
There would be no such concerns with Knight. He turned 66 in October, and if Tech's not his last job, one more move would be it. Plus, for all the controversies, Knight has a clean record with the NCAA that covers four decades.
That's the good stuff.
Bruininks would have to consider Knight's important assets -- winning, selling, graduating, not cheating -- more important than the litany of controversies that followed Knight through his 29 seasons at Indiana.
There have been fewer of these with Knight as a senior citizen stuck in Lubbock, although his ability to create headlines was reaffirmed last month with that pop to a player's jaw.
This occurred on a Monday. Four days later, former Michigan football coach Bo Schembechler died. It was rather humorous to watch Knight being chastised for a minor sideline episode, and in the same week, to watch the beatification of Bo.
If Bo had as many chances every season to make a nutcase out of himself as did Knight, and inside claustrophobic arenas where every coach's moment can be observed, he would have been institutionalized.
There were endless shots at Knight taken in this space during Indiana's visits to Minneapolis.
Seven seasons later, long-time Barn denizens must admit that we miss the guy. We no longer circle Indiana as a must-see on the schedule (which wouldn't help this winter, with the Hoosiers not here).
For all the tantrums, the suspicion here has been that -- other than a one-time chair toss -- there are few spontaneous events on Knight's résumé. He decides beforehand if this will be a night to rage, or if this will be a night to instruct. He decides beforehand if he will be boorish in an interview, or if he will be remarkably insightful.
Bobby Knight can be anything he so chooses, and what we do know for sure is he would be irresistible to this area's craving for star power.