Have I mentioned what was not in the Diallo news release? It said that Diallo “received a limited amount of extra benefits” and therefore would have to sit out one more game — in addition to the four he has already missed — as punishment. What was the extra benefit? We weren’t told. Was it related to the N.C.A.A.’s concerns over the academic rigor of Our Savior, or its concerns over Drame? What specific N.C.A.A. rule is Diallo alleged to have violated?

Incredibly, the release also did not mention that Diallo had to pay $165 to the charity of his choice to repay the extra benefit. The Jayhawks do not appear to know what the extra benefit is because the N.C.A.A. has not said. To his great and everlasting credit, Self, during a conference call on Wednesday minutes after the announcement that Diallo had been cleared, bluntly took issue with the deal struck between Kansas and the N.C.A.A.

“I am very happy he is eligible,” Self said. “But I do not agree with the content of the release.”

Robert Orr, Yakwe’s lawyer, told me that his client had to pay $240 to repay his extra benefit. What extra benefit did he receive? Nobody at St. John’s has any idea what he supposedly did to violate the N.C.A.A.’s rules. A last little dollop of humiliation for two athletes who haven’t deserved the treatment they’ve received from the association.

I spent much of this week looking into both Our Savior and Drame. Let me quickly tell you where I came out.

It is certainly possible that Our Savior is substandard academically, although it is worth noting that it does not carry the characteristics of notorious basketball diploma mills. Not all students at the prekindergarten-through-12th-grade school are athletes, and it has a broader Christian mission. In any case, how would the N.C.A.A. know whether Our Savior was up to snuff? No one from the organization appears to have visited it or sat in on any classes.

The N.C.A.A. appears to have put the school “under review” — whatever that means — without bothering to tell anyone at Our Savior. The N.C.A.A.’s eligibility standards drive high schools crazy all across the country, including prestigious prep schools like Deerfield in Massachusetts, where guidance counselors have been known to change the names of courses so bureaucrats at N.C.A.A. headquarters in Indianapolis will approve them.