Detroit Free Press

Lights! Camera! Questions!That's right. Once again, Mr. Oscar Man will take time from his busy schedule of ...

The people who run sports at the University of Michigan insist their basketball coaching job is a juicy plum, a sparkling treasure, a gem of a position that the best coaches in the business would lunge at if given the chance.The funny thing is, they never get the chance.

EASTLANSING -- There are french fries by his elbow and a hamburger in his hands, a baseball cap tilted on his head ...

CHICAGO -- The difference between Friday and Sunday is the difference between a party night and a school night, between the fun starting and the fun ending, or, in college basketball's thrilling, season-ending tournament, the difference between a future and a past. Three Michigan schools, two of them strangers to this kind of spotlight, woke up Sunday with a sweet taste of success and dreams of more, more, more. By evening, reality had hit home: One taste was all there would be.

Right off the bat, I confess a certain nostalgia for my school years. I had fun. I had friends. I had laughs. So perhaps my logic is blurry. I never realized that being a boy was such a distraction.I knew girls were a distraction. I discovered that in sixth grade, when the first girl I liked cast a quick glance in my direction, fluttered her eyelashes, and I felt a queasy, goose-bumping rush. At that moment, the teacher could have said "America was discovered by hyenas" and I would have written it down.

So much has been written, broadcast and debated about Brian Ellerbe -- the job he has done with Michigan basketball, good, bad, whether he should get to keep it -- and over and over, people keep missing the points.First of all, his biggest accomplishment was not winning over his players, it was winning over his assistant coaches.

It's Earl's World now.I see Earl Shirts and Earl Shorts. I see Earl Shoes and Earl Laces. I see Earl-y Bird ...

NAGANO, Japan -- The Games began, for many of us, the moment we took off our shoes. It is a Japanese custom politely -- but forcefully -- inflicted on visitors as soon as they step inside. And in retrospect, it serves as a fitting symbol of these mild and friendly Olympics, which often required stepping out of old-heeled ways and getting used to a new soul, or what Monty Python might call "something completely different."