We begin with a late breakfast at Cafe Patachou in downtown Indianapolis. “In this day and age? How stupid is that? But to me, it’s fun. “I’m like, well, that ain’t very smart,” Dakich says, driving in the fast lane before the squalls move in. He says if they want to meet him, he’ll be out there. Finally, he tells the strangers he’s arguing with that he leaves his radio station through the front door, just after 3 p.m.
He’s in one of his ill-advised Twitter wars. In one of many attempts to explain the why, long before we parallel park directly across the street from the restaurant in Madison, Dakich tells a story. He also has a self-assurance, earned or not, that it all just works out. Why? Why choose to do that? This part is complicated. It’s hard to make sense of this unless you see him as he seems to see himself: a chimerical character in an outrageous spectacle of a world, consciously participating in and occasionally amplifying the outrageousness. This mostly depends on which Dan Dakich you interact with, and when or how you interact with him, and how bored or puckish or self-deprecating he feels at that moment. Because if you have an opinion of him, it is probably a strong one. Meet up with one of college basketball’s most visible and vocal personalities, hang out in the radio studio and the ESPN television truck with a drive through Big Ten country in between, and find out how Dan Dakich reckons the seemingly disparate and variously polarizing elements of himself. “I don’t know if I die that I’m gonna be the headline,” Dakich had said to me a few miles earlier, which is nice but absolutely not helping.Īt one point, this seemed like a smart idea. Instead, I’m riding past Janesville, Wis., plowing through a storm with a Chevy Traverse’s radio turned up and Dan Dakich singing “Amie” in the driver’s seat.
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