INDIANAPOLIS — The golf carts were ready outside the Michigan locker room early Tuesday morning. One was for Wolverine players like star forward Yaxel Lendeborg, his shirt soaked with water as he bear-hugged the school’s newest trophy, and point guard Elliot Cadeau, the Final Four’s Most Outstanding Player, still sporting ski goggles the way champions do to survive locker room celebrations. But their wheels stayed in park, unable to rip down the carpeted hallways of Lucas Oil Stadium and toward the victors’ news conference following their 69-63 win over UConn because the other golf cart remained empty.
The game’s biggest star was missing.
“Where’d Coach go?” a Michigan staffer in a maize pullover asked the driver, in an attempt to locate one Dusty May.
If this transient world of college sports has revealed anything, it’s that nothing goes — not those golf carts, and especially not a smash-and-grab through the March Madness bracket like Michigan’s dominant run — without Coach. The central character. The one whose name, image and likeness might appear on unlicensed apparel that college girls love, but will make his own sons cringe. Someone who can strangle the spotlight away from the fervor of a rival fan base, and, even if unwillingly, also the student-athletes who are here today and gone … later today.
Strange, isn’t it? Even in a college basketball season that turned NBA GMs into tank drivers just so they could have the right to select one of the harvest of lottery picks available in the 2026 draft class, the main attractions roamed the sidelines in quarter zips. (Or, if you’re UCLA’s Mick Cronin — stalked his players’ living nightmares while wearing custom suits and ties.) In an era that provides more freedom and finances to a workforce filled with 20-somethings, middle-aged coaches (still) are the ones supplying the best material.
During Monday’s national title game, a completely unappealing experience, it was the temperament of UConn’s Dan Hurley that gave the viewing audience something to care about. Would he crash out and pull a Geno, accusing the entire Michigan sideline of not shaking his hand during pregame? No one knew, but it was worth waiting for rather than witnessing both teams abuse the art of the jump shot. (Michigan made only 2 of 15 from 3, while UConn shot just 31 percent overall).
May doesn’t have that kind of magnetism; the camera doesn’t follow him like it does Hurley. Nor does he have the presence of a Tom Izzo, who made a scene this season in kicking one out of his former players from a Michigan State game. And he doesn’t possess the stateliness of a Bill Self, with whom he shares top billing in an upcoming four-part Paramount+ series that chronicles the seasons at Kansas and Michigan.
He’s kind of, well, normal. But he’s also the biggest reason Michigan is national champion.
“These guys have done it all year. When one side of the ball was letting us down, the other side picked us up.”@umichbball‘s Dusty May on his team’s championship-level defense all season pic.twitter.com/umh3YyiqND
— CBS Sports (@CBSSports) April 7, 2026
“He’s 49 years old? He looks really young. I thought he was younger than that,” Hurley mused about May in the lead-up to Monday’s game. “Forty-nine, I was surprised at that. I thought he would be more in his early 40s. I thought he might have been like 40 or 41. His hair, and he looks great. But he’s one of the best coaches. He’ll be one of the best coaches for — hopefully, this is the first of many meetings in these big spots between me and Dusty. He’s excellent.”
After leading mid-major Florida Atlantic to the 2023 Final Four, May needed just two years to turn Michigan around, a near worst-to-first rally from 8-24 (3-17 in the Big Ten) in 2024 to 37-3 (19-1) this season. This revival should give Cignetti vibes. The face of college football, Curt Cignetti transformed a forgotten Indiana football program through the transfer portal and also led his team to a national title.
But unlike Cignetti, who can combust when he’s not looking completely bored, or even May’s mentor, Bob Knight, the most well-known coach in all of Indiana sports, he’s not a caricature of a madman. May is normal. And he gets attention by being so calm. Just like he did in January, going viral by sitting down, crossing his legs and ignoring/trolling the Izzone student section at Michigan State that greeted him with boos.
He appears as a nice guy, unless of course you get lost in his perfectly coifed hair and ageless skin and forget that May might be the biggest gangsta in the Big Ten.
As May compiled this roster by signing the likes of Cadeau and Lendeborg out of the transfer portal, he also pulled center Aday Mara (formerly of UCLA) and forward Morez Johnson Jr. (formerly of Illinois) from conference rivals. It’s no wonder conference coaches denied May as the 2026 Big Ten Coach of the Year, although he earned the media’s vote.
“He’s just an amazing person. It’s amazing to be here around him. I’m super happy that I have him as a coach,” Mara said. “(The Michigan coaching staff) really changed my life. It took me a couple of months to enjoy basketball again when I (came) here. But now I’m just, like, happy.”
Not as happy as the people in Ann Arbor, Mich., especially the ones who see May, er, differently. For the national championship game, there was a cheeky shirt popular among the Michigan student section: Several women could be seen wearing a “Dusty May Is Your Daddy” tee.
“Umm … I don’t … no comment,” laughed Charlie May, when asked about his father being the inspiration for such fashion.
Michigan coach Dusty May watches “One Shining Moment” after the Wolverines defeated UConn on Monday night to win the national championship. (Michael Reaves / Getty Images)
Next season, when Michigan is back near the top of the college basketball rankings, even with a heap of new transfers, May will be the biggest reason again. And the best draw, as it is with Hurley and other young coaches filling the void left by some of the game’s biggest personalities who’ve since become retirees.
On Tuesday morning, it took a few moments, but Michigan staffers tracked down May for his waiting golf cart. May, with his championship hat turned backwards, plopped down in the passenger seat and released a sigh. Then, and finally then, could Michigan go.