Maybe you've seen the orange juice commercial on TV. There's Bob Knight, as warm and cuddly as a cocker spaniel puppy, working the sidelines in ways you've never seen. Hey, isn't that Coach Bob thoughtfully tying a player's loose shoelace? And isn't that Coach Bob imploring his players to have fun out there?

You laugh because it goes against every conceivable Knight stereotype. Tie shoelaces? Have fun? This is the same guy, says a former IU player, who would call you over to the bench during a break in the action and put an arm around your shoulder, while using his free hand to pinch skin near your rib cage. It got your attention, nobody could see the twist, and the welt usually faded in a few days.

After spending a season on the outside looking in, Knight is back where he belongs: on a college campus, on a hoops court, on a mission to one day break Dean Smith's record for all-time victories. Texas Tech -- or as one national college basketball writer described it, "Tumbleweed State'" -- is taking the Nestea plunge with Knight. Together they'll make history, or make a mess of the most celebrated second chance this side of Wimp Sanderson.

If ever there is a time you hope life imitates art, this is it. Wouldn't it be stop-the-presses stuff if Knight made like the coach in the orange juice ad, rather than reprise the tired, Bully-in-Bloomington schtick? He can do it. He can do anything he wants.

Knight has the opportunity to win games and change perceptions. What he needs to realize is that one is as important as the other. Enough already with the Playboy interview tirades, or the ridiculous and hypocritical foray into picking NCAA tournament games for a dot-com site. We'll give him a free pass during his season on Elba and start the clock now.

Of course, the early signs aren't particularly encouraging. Last week's "I'm-Just-Looking-The-Place-Over" press conference at Tech was Knight at his smug worst. He made a few lame jokes about tape recorders, yakked away, and then didn't take a single question from reporters. Friday's introduction will be different. But what about Saturday, Sunday, Monday -- and beyond?

Contrary to the Knight loyalists who think I revel in Bob bashing, I'm actually hoping for the best and expecting the worst. Knight isn't going to become Mother Teresa just because he's changing zip codes and red sweaters. His favorite words will continue to be four letters in length and he'll continue to demand perfection in an imperfect world. But if this Texas Tech experiment is to work, then Knight will have to demand perfection from himself first, his team second.

This is a story in need of a happy ending. Knight botched the first draft by forgetting he isn't invincible, that three national championships don't outweigh a hand raised in anger and placed on a player's throat. Now he gets another crack at rewriting a legacy.

If he's smart -- and he is -- Knight won't fall for Friday's lovefest at Lubbock. The last thing he needs is a coronation like the one Rick Pitino got in Louisville. This is work. This is a reclamation project. Pitino is Bluegrass royalty. Knight is the guy coming in from the cold.

Texas Tech isn't Indiana, but that's okay. If Knight can be half the person he is on the orange juice ad then something wonderful could happen in faraway west Texas. The temptation is to think that he's Tech's basketball savior. But the truth is, it's the other way around.

This is it for Knight. Screw up this chance and he becomes America's basketball punchline. Here's betting he'll figure it out in time.

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail Geno at gene.wojciechowski@espnmag.com.