Tim Floyd liked the pro life -- the plush seats in the jet charter, the luxurious rooms at the Ritz and, the Four Seasons and the Plaza, places where the Bulls bed down on the road because, why should Marcus Fizer accept less?

	Tim Floyd finally got tired of the losing and stepped aside.

Floyd liked his seven-figures paycheck and not having to endure the loathsome task of recruiting that was part of the job description at Iowa State and the other stops he made along the college trail.

Floyd made friends with Jerry Krause. They were fishing buddies and when Krause helped Phil Jackson out the door in Chicago, Floyd was there with his hand out and Krause put a contract in it. When Floyd walked out the door for the last time Christmas Eve he had, a source told the Chicago Tribune, a settlement that would pay him a portion of the $6.4 million left on the contract and its extension. He also had about him the ignominious stench of failure.

Ringing in Floyd's ears might be Krause's profanity-laced assertion that "there is no power struggle. There has not been a power struggle."

Of course not. Tim Floyd never had any power. He was Jerry's patsy. "We had disagreements," Floyd said. "You're going to have disagreements in any professional sports organization. But for the most part we were able to work together."

That was true so long as Floyd did what he was told, accepted Krause's roster machinations, dealt stoically with draft choices who could not play (Dalibor Bagaric) were never going to be top players (Fizer), suffered serious injury (Jamal Crawford) or were far too callow to be of much use to the present administration (Crawford, Eddy Curry, Tyson Chandler).

Then there was the other side of it, the mistrust the NBA's playing elite feels for Krause. Prime free agents looked balefully at the unpleasant departure of Jackson, Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan and said, no, if the Bulls could it to those guys, they could do it to any of them.

In his zeal to open cap room for players who would not come, Krause stripped away talent. The Bulls will be at about $30 million, $12 to $14 million to spend and no one to take it.

Krause gave Floyd a roster that would challenge the worst expansion team. Krause brought in Charles Oakley for veteran leadership and his $6 million salary slot, blind to the old player's cantankerous nature. Oakley poisoned a bad well. Krause two years ago signed Ron Mercer to be his scorer although Mercer has a reputation for selfishness to a fault. Floyd fought with both Mercer and Oakley and even alienated young Ron Artest by ripping in front of his teammates for the way he dresses on the bench.

Poor Floyd didn't know or didn't care that Chuck Daly won two titles with headstrong players because he never insulted them in front of their peers.

Krause did Floyd a favor by drafting Elton Brand out of Duke and then did Floyd a disservice by trading Brand for Chandler, a high schooler. Krause also took a second high school player -- Curry -- and the coach didn't want to play either of them.

Maybe they will grow up in time to help the next Bulls coach, or at least his successor. Who wants this job? Among the usual suspects, Jeff Van Gundy is out of work and Dan Issel soon will be, but neither will work here. Del Harris' name will come up but he is too old and too smart to get involved. Mike Dunleavy is relaxing down in Texas.

And then there is Mike Fratello, who should be back coaching in the NBA and would be the best possible choice Krause could make. Of course, he won't make it. Krause dealt with two head-strong guys in Doug Collins and Jackson. He doesn't want to fight with a guy wants to control his own destiny. You don't control Mike Fratello, who does, however, control his players, teaches fundamentals and runs a disciplined NBA offense and an attacking defense.

Then again, why would Fratello want to pin his future to the likes of Greg Anthony, Mercer, Fizer or the mechanical Bagaric?

One Chicago newspaper put forth the candidacy of B.J. Armstrong, while another report indicates current assistant Bill Cartwright will get the job. But here's a name who also did credit to the Bulls uniform when he wore it a few years ago: John Paxson, presently the team's broadcast analyst and the brother of Cleveland general manager Jim Paxson, who suddenly is not looking like such a fool as his team finds a competitive level.

This much can is certain. Krause can't hire another college guy and after the Floyd fiasco it will be a long time before anyone takes a fellow straight out of college to become an NBA head coach.

Floyd steps away with a record of 4-21 this season and a career mark of 49-190 in 3-plus seasons. To put this in perspective, he won two more games over his career than did Phil Jackson in his worst single season. He reached 190 losses faster than any coach in history, blew right by Bill Fitch, who left Minnesota to coach an expansion team in Cleveland.

The field is littered with failures. Rick Pitino and John Calipari were disasters, their egos out of control. P.J. Carlesimo could not temper his anger in Portland or in Oakland. The jury is out on Lon Kruger, 35-74 in Atlanta where he battles unfortunate circumstances.

But Kruger did not have to deal with a rebel like Oakley, who repeatedly undermined his poor coach, stripping him of what little authority and respect he had in the locker room.

The veterans knew more about the ways of the NBA than Floyd and the kids only knew that the craggy-faced guy with the forelock didn't want to play them. When it was all said and down, the Bulls' locker room was an armed camp and all the weapons pointed at Tim Floyd.

Recently, Floyd spoke of how unhappy he was, losing every night. That's over now.

Jeffrey Denberg, who covers the NBA for the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.