The tragic death of Patrick Dennehy. The accusation that former teammate Carlton Dotson killed him. Allegations of illegal activities within his program, prompting an NCAA investigation. His world spinning out of control.

Dave Bliss just wanted it to go away.

	Poor decisions have cost Bliss his job -- and perhaps his career.

So he acted irrationally. He made bad decisions, like trying to coerce assistants and players to make false statements to Baylor investigators. Decisions that ultimately cost him his head coaching job -- and his reputation.

Saturday, while sitting quietly at his Waco home, a remorseful Bliss told ESPN.com that he regretted his actions.

But there's no excuse for his unethical behavior. No one who knows him can understand how or why he chose to lie under duress.

After all, Bliss is a well-educated man from Cornell. He could have easily chosen a career working on Wall Street in his native New York. Instead, he opted to coach college basketball, working in relative obscurity to the common fan but known to hardcore fans who followed his teams in the Southwest, from Oklahoma to SMU to New Mexico to Baylor.

That career now is in shambles. His name is mud, and those left in his wake -- his former school, parents of his players and coaches who once worked for him -- are furious.

He didn't murder Dennehy. But the memory of his cover-up to hide how Dennehy's tuition was paid could last just as long from the summer Baylor will never forget.

Bliss has confessed that he paid for the remaining tuition after financial aid, estimated at $7,000 for Dennehy and freshman Corey Herring, two players who weren't on scholarship last season. That confession came on Aug. 8, only after Baylor investigators met earlier that week with Dennehy's girlfriend Jessica De La Rosa in Albuquerque, N.M.. At that time, they learned of Bliss' direct involvement in the payments.

Consequently, Bliss had no choice but to offer up his resignation.

Yet earlier he had hinted to media members and Baylor personnel in the administration that a booster might have taken care of the tuition. He pointed at assistant coach Rodney Belcher as playing a role in the violations.

Although Belcher allegedly aided in some of the more secondary violations, apparently he was not involved in the major violation of tuition payments.

But Bliss' worst offense was floating the story of Dennehy dealing drugs to pay for the tuition. Obviously, he was grasping at straws. Yet he thought the story might work.

One problem: He never counted on newly named assistant coach Abar Rouse taping their conversations from July 30 to Aug 1, only days after a Dallas forensics lab identified Dennehy's body.

As of Saturday, Baylor officials still are having a hard time believing anything Bliss is saying. At least one official said Bliss always reaffirmed his story with the Baylor administration before he met the media. But now, the Baylor administration doesn't know if Bliss was ever telling the truth until he was forced to on Aug. 8.

"Since then, I confessed, resigned and have worked completely with the committee,'' Bliss said.

But does it matter? Bliss' comments on the Rouse tapes come across as cold and callous. Bliss denied that his personality had turned so dark, but understands the perception when seeing the written form.

Bliss said his anger wasn't directed at Dennehy but at the situation that had befallen the program, and ultimately, his staff. He couldn't believe that allegations of NCAA violations were being leveled at his program while the Dennehy investigation also was taking place.

So Bliss began to focus on himself -- and not Dennehy -- during a July 28 news conference. The day before, Dennehy's body had been identified, but Bliss focused his comments on the solvency and cleanliness of his program.

Sure, the situation was unusual. How would any of us act when faced with similar circumstances? Bliss said he was scrambling, that he made bad decisions. No doubt he acted desperately -- and wrongly.

Regardless of any gray area rules violations at any of his previous stops, nothing could have prepared him for this situation.

Bliss said his actions were also influenced by the NCAA's five-eight rule that limits schools to five scholarships in one season and not more than eight in two seasons. It's a rule that coaches want to get rid of.

But that's no excuse.

Bliss' 28 years in coaching and 500-plus wins will be scarred by his missteps of the summer of 2003.

The Rouse tapes make him seem calculated and arrogant, charges he refutes. But the one certainty is that he was lost, trying to save a career in late July that was already gone.

Andy Katz is a senior writer at ESPN.com.