Now, let's turn our attention to the one man with sillier slicked-back hair than Silvio Dante: The Don of Florida basketball, Billy Donovan.

The NBA's Orlando Magic probably wishes it could make Donovan disappear right now (ala Christopher Moltisante). Donovan, you see, recently signed a five-year, $27.5 million contract to coach the pro club, only to change his mind soon thereafter - like famed runaway bride Jennifer Wilbanks.

The manner with which Donovan hot-footed it back to the University of Florida after getting cold feet provides a further example of an alarming trend in sports.

Before Billy D reneged on his deal with Orlando, Dana Altman annoyed Arkansas. Gregg Marshall left the College of Charleston at the altar. … Rick Majerus scorned USC. … Bobby Cremins steamed officials at his alma mater, South Carolina. And, outside of basketball, Bill Belichick similarly teased the NFL's New York Jets.

If a man's word is his bond, then the written word - i.e., a signed contract in Donovan's case - should be set in stone.

These flirtations don't just toy with the emotions of owners but fans as well. Two hundred season tickets were purchased in the first 24 hours after Donovan signed on the dotted line with Orlando, for instance.

The other problem famed flip-floppers like Donovan create when they leave a job in a haste is that whomever replaces them automatically looks like a lame-duck coach, plucked from the depths of the bargain bin.

To be fair, Donovan offered more than a few obligatory apologies in the wake of his mistake. And, honestly, who doesn't want to be Van Wilder and stay in college forever?

But eventually you have to grow up, be respectable, and be a man of your word. Considering he's 42, Orlando had every right to expect as much from Donovan.

Before the proverbial credits roll, let me note that some of Hylton's sentiments on this issue are as absurd as those of another master of the malaprop, Tony Soprano, who often describes himself as "prostate with grief" when a beloved family member gets fitted for concrete boots.

The curtain drops on "The Sopranos" tonight. Conversely, Florida's embarrassed Don lives on. He just probably wishes he were in the Witness Protection Program right about now.