Detroit Free Press

Since you can't bring up a racial issue in this country without whites running to one side and blacks running to the other, let me try a different angle on this Ebonics idea.If I were black, I'd be insulted.

He entered the room in a three-piece suit, sat down and began scanning an information sheet about me. I was interviewing him, but in many ways, like a good lawyer, Johnnie Cochran was preparing for me."I know you're on a tight schedule," I said, "so I'll get right down to it.""OK, great," he replied, his gaze never coming off the page. I watched his eyes dart back and forth beneath his glasses. I kept picturing a judge hanging over us, saying, "Are you ready to begin, Mr. Cochran?"

PHILADELPHIA -- Thank heaven there's a hockey game tonight. If people here had to wait any longer, they might implode.I'm not talking about the normal Philadelphians. Normal Philadelphians might have a few other things in their lives, like jobs. The Philadelphians I'm talking about are the rabid fans who have nothing better to do but call into Philly sports talk radio -- or as it's known in the industry, Lawsuit Central.Now, it's true, most towns have some kind of sports talk radio station. Many sound like this:

Dead men tell no tales. And dead parents make no complaints. So it's impossible to know what Dorothy Mayfield would have thought about her daughter's acceptance to Harvard University.Or what she might have thought when Harvard changed its mind.It seems that her daughter's application -- which featured straight A's and glowing recommendations -- left out one alarming fact: The girl had murdered her mother four years earlier.Not exactly a small detail.

The year is almost up. I want a refund.I don't want money. I want time. I want back every minute wasted on subjects that were trivial, gossipy or just plain idiotic.Subjects on which I can't believe we wasted any breath at all. Things that dominated our newspapers and our TVs and, therefore, our conversations, like whether the Spice Girls have any talent.The answer is no. There. That took half-a-second. I want back anything over that.

HUT ONE: Finally, it's upon us, the annual Michigan- Michigan State game, where Spartans fans accuse Wolverines fans of being rich, spoiled, candy-panted dweebs, and Wolverines fans retort, "Run along, Sparty, time to chew your cud."* HUT TWO: In games like these, of course, the trash talk at the line of scrimmage can be very entertaining:

ST. LOUIS -- It was the perfect portrait to end this series. Brendan Shanahan scoring over a fallen Grant Fuhr, raising his fists as the red light went on. For so much of this first round, the pose was something opposite, Fuhr upright and strong, stonewalling the Red Wings, sending them away, their heads down, their pockets empty.

Chris Osgood was standing by his locker when I approached. He was sucking on a candy that smelled like a LifeSaver. Interesting choice of sweets, a LifeSaver, since that's what half this city seems to want to throw him after Wednesday night's loss.But here's a piece of news. He doesn't need it. Doesn't want it. And doesn't deserve it."How do you feel about what happened?" I asked."Ticked off," he said. "I was 85 seconds away from my best playoff series ever.""Does it make you want to play right now?"