Superb Owl Sun Day

  I had every intention of watching the Super Bowl last Sunday, but circumstances intervened: turns out the USA network was showing an episode of Law and Order SVU that I hadn't seen yet.

  Actually, I'm just kidding.  I had no intention of watching the Super Bowl.  I'll usually check in every so often to make sure I'm not missing a good game (I rarely am), but I have no interest in watching it.  It has become a media event manufactured around a sporting event, with the emphasis on "manufactured": and when the sports media is involved, you know it's a pile of shit.  It's not the first media event built around a football game - historically black college and university football games often end up being mostly excuses for killer halftime shows by the marching bands (like the Circle City Classic in Indianapolis that corresponds with the Black Expo) - but it's certainly the most obnoxious.

  But hey.  Forget about the chips and dip.  Forget about football-themed hors d'oeuvres, forget about paying north of 50 bucks for a team jersey that you will only wear once, forget about explaining football to the rube in the office who only watches one football game a year.  The Super Bowl is a de facto piece of crap, and all that surrounds it means that it will only be good in spite of itself.  Which, really, should be a surprise to no one, given the mechanisms which govern its construction.  It's not even worthy of even the most mild form of outrage . . . distaste maybe, but certainly not anything which would require any effort or thought.  Best to say "yeah, load of crap" and move on.

  Which brings us to the game itself.  Now, granted, part of the problem with the game is the two weeks of all-encompassing hype that sets a bar that almost no mere football game will justify, but that's not really the root of the issue.  No, the biggest problem with the Super Bowl is an issue that every professional sport will have to confront once it gets big enough to actually be milked for real cash: as a capitalist venture, the money will always be more important than the game.

  The NFL is falling prey to this in the worst way: every year, the schedule gets stretched out longer and longer.  Games get shuffled around, first to Mondays, then to Saturdays, then to Thursdays, now to both Saturdays and Thursdays along with Mondays.  Part of the appeal of the NFL to the general sports fan is how every game is a war, and most Sundays you will find each team going all out, giving everything they have . . . as opposed to, say, MLB or (especially) the NBA, which include so many games that not only is it unnecessary to go all out every night, it is actually counter-productive to do so.  This is not a new story: every capitalist venture, when it stumbles across something which will put more money in its owner's pockets, will go to the well until it is dry.  The "job creators" squeeze more and more productivity out of their workers to increase profits, while inanely reproducing old successful ideas until they are no longer successful (see the creep of Black Friday into Thanksgiving, along with the steady flattening of sales on Black Friday weekends in spite of the longer hours).  Sports, too, ignores the needs of their workers, and even the quality of their product, when there is money to be made . . . the players, to a man, hate the Thursday games, and there is (at very least) strong anecdotal evidence that the rate of injury is increased by these games as well.  And now, the NFL is trying to lengthen the season, again against the wishes of the players, who fear more injuries as a result.  Even beyond the decrease of the quality of the game due to attrition, the NFL is quickly putting itself in a position where teams are going to have to start sandbagging certain games, much like you see in the NBA, where you have some teams (like the Miami Heat) who don't start playing with any level of intensity until after the all-star break, and other teams (like the San Antonio Spurs) that practically concede a game every few weeks by sitting all their best players in the hopes that it will keep their legs fresh for the playoffs.  The die is already cast: the season is too long, the injuries are mounting, teams are already strategically throwing games (for example, sitting all their starters after they have clinched a playoff position or, conversely, trying out young players when the playoffs are finally out of reach).  The game is still attracting more and more fans through the desire manufacturing functions of its media hype machine, but the quality of the game is already noticeably slipping.  Already the hardcore fan longs for the old days; the day is coming soon when the decline in quality will show up as a decline in numbers.

  All pro sports seasons are already too long: the NBA should open Christmas Day and be done by the end of May at the very latest.  And there should be fewer games per week.  Baseball can afford to play the games as close together as it does given the nature of the game, but the season still needs to be shorter: games getting snowed out at either end of the season should be a freak occurrence, not a given.  Baseball should start on May Day and be done by October 1st.  NASCAR is another long one, but like MLB is a somewhat unique case.  Still, April to the end of October seems reasonable for the senior circuit; and maybe you run a winter racing league from November to March on the Southern tracks . . . you have a more concentrated season for the Sprint Cup, and you can showcase some of the up and comers for the media on the winter tour.  And hockey . . . . don't even get me started on hockey.

  Perhaps some of this is born out of my growing distaste for the game of football, but that turns the problem into a whole chicken/egg thing.  The NFL continues to grow, but the feet of clay is the health of the workers, which in turn affects the quality of the game itself.  The Super Bowl hype, annoying as it may be, is a symptom of a larger problem.

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  I was at work when the game started, so I did get to see a few series run by each offense.  I am a Peyton Manning fan, and I am rooting for him to squeeze in one more Super Bowl before he is done, and this seemed like the best chance.  Very early, however, it became clear that this would not be his day; while many point to signs, starting with the safety on the first play and extending to the Percy Harvin return touchdown return that started the second half, I saw an indicator much more subtle.  Manning, you see, seemed to be holding on to the ball an average of about three seconds longer than he normally does.  That meant 1) that his receivers were being successfully jammed at the line of scrimmage by the Seattle secondary, 2) his patchwork offensive line would have to hold off a pretty decent pass rush for longer than they were capable of doing, which meant 3) they would have to rely on a great game by a very average running back (Knowshon Moreno) to knock the Seattle defense off its mark . . . which, of course, they did not get. Brilliant as Manning is, and as hard as it is to knock him out of his game, once you do, he's done.  There's no Aaron Rodgers-styled roll out to extend the play, there's no Colin Kaepernick/Cam Newton sprint through the gaps to pick up yardage that can't be gained otherwise, there's no Ben Roethlisberger -type refusal to let a play die, there is no Brett Favre/Matthew Stafford gunslinging, no Andrew Luck improvising.  Good as Manning is, and he is clearly one of the greatest ever, he is incapable of forcing his will on anyone.  His game is predicated on the fact that you can't cover all his receivers all the time; and when you let one loose, he will make the play.  He lives on what you give him, and almost everyone gives him something.  The key to beating Manning is simple: you have to hit him before he gets a window open on one of his receivers.  Simple, but not easy . . . which is why Manning has had such a successful career.

  As it turns out, that extra three seconds was all the Seattle front four (they almost never blitz) needed.  Manning had a dreadful game.  Of course, he has to bear a lot of the blame, but the fact remains that if his offensive line played a little better, or if he would have had someone a little better than Moreno in the backfield, the outcome would have been different.

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  Which leads to one of the most dreadful discussions that the hype machine has been regurgitating endlessly since the end of the season: exactly how does this loss affect the legacy of Peyton Manning?

  I think that Manning is, at very least, one of the top five quarterbacks in the history of the game.  The reason is simple: he changed the game.  Or, to be more accurate, he started to change the game, and when the NFL rules committee saw how popular his pinball machine passing game could be, they helped him along with some rule changes to further advance his passing game at the expense of the defense (most of which had to do with contact between defenders and eligible receivers).  Before Manning, pass-first offenses were primarily a novelty (Air Coryell comes to mind), at least until Bill Walsh, Joe Montana, and the West Coast offense arrived in San Francisco.  But even the West Coast, a possession-passing offense with a necessary run component, is not as pass happy as Manning circa 2004, or Manning circa 2013.  And even when the West Coast leaned on aerials as much as the typical Manning offense, it was still a system which the quarterback had to execute.  No quarterback ever took the weight of the offense, from the design to the play calling to the execution, on his own shoulders to the degree that Manning does.  And while it is fashionable to point out Manning's big collapses, I find it remarkable that he is so consistently brilliant, given the task he has drawn for himself.

  It is fashionable to rank Tom Brady above him; but that doesn't take into account that Tom Brady wasn't that Tom Brady until after Manning started throwing the ball everywhere, and Belichick (the greatest coach of this era) was able to adapt the Manning offense to Brady's (very similar) skill set.  It is also fashionable to bring up Favre and Brees, though the criticisms they level against Manning (only one Super Bowl victory) holds here as well.  Of all the quarterbacks I can think of, only Johnny Unitas has a legitimate claim to being as important to the offense as Manning; and even then, I think Manning bore the heavier load.

  And yet, Manning has to answer for a sub-par playoff record.  Which, if you really look at it . . . .

  Wait, before I start: raise your hand if you have ever mouthed and/or actually believe the following truisms about football:  1) football is the ultimate team sport, 2) matchups matter, and 3) defense wins championships.  Got it?  Good.  Keep those hands in the air.

  So, let's start with the last truism first: defense wins championships.  I think, if anything, this past Super Bowl was a stark illustration of that.  Most of the infographics they show on Sportscenter Super Bowl Week blather support this, and I myself am a believer, even before this past reminder.  Perhaps only the Montana/Walsh combo was able to win it all with an offense significantly better than their defense.  With that in consideration, when has Manning ever gone into the playoffs with a defense that was better than average?  Never.  Not once.  So, the logical conclusion would be that Manning's playoff failures were more the responsibility of an Indianapolis front office that could never get him a decent defense.  You can't hold his playoff record against him.  Incidentally, Tom Brady, the cudgel people always beat Manning with, has looked pretty damn mortal in the playoffs lately himself, and again, I think that has to do with the fact that he hasn't been matched with a consistently good defense for several years now.

  As far as matchups, there has always been a certain kind of team that gives Manning fits, from the San Diego Chargers years back to Seattle this year: rough, physical defenses whose primary function is to take away the primary thing the offense wants to do (the Patriots under Belichick do the same, when they have the right personnel).  Again, you take Manning out of his game, he's done.  Seattle had the same success against Drew Brees, who is like Manning in this way.  On the other hand, Andrew Luck had some success against Seattle because, as one of the most adaptable quarterbacks in the league (there isn't one thing he does better than everyone else, but there are so many things he does really well), he could switch up his game if it wasn't working . . . if his receivers get jammed, he can roll out of the pocket to give them more time, if they try to bring more pressure from the outside, he'll tuck the ball in and run with it, etc.  I will not tell you that Luck is a better quarterback than Manning; but, as their teams are currently constituted, I would take Luck over Manning against Seattle every time.

  Which brings us to the first truism: football is the ultimate team sport.  The media is fond of putting the big team matchups in very personal ways, such as Manning v. Brady . . . and no matter how much folks point out that Manning and Brady are never on the field at the same time, no matter how much they point out that it is much more accurate to say Manning v. the Patriots defense and Brady v. the Broncos defense, the hype machine rolls on in its unabated idiocy, because that's what sells the ads.  The commentators drone on about Manning's inferior playoff record, without ever acknowledging that his almost superhuman ability to run an offense got a lot of teams into the playoffs that had no business being there in the first place (unlike, say, Brady, who won his first Superbowl as a game manager standing in for the injured Drew Bledsoe).  Manning has contributed more than any single football player I can think of to his team's ultimate success; it just so happens that he is so good at maxing out his potential every time he steps on the field that his failures clearly demark his ceiling.  Again: you give Manning a window before you hit him, he will make you pay.  If you don't, he's not pulling shit out of his ass Brett Favre-style.  That's who he is, that's who he always was.

  So where does that leave his legacy?  Well, as pointed out above, there are a lot of quarterbacks who can do things Manning can't.  But for every "how the hell did he ever make that throw" that the gunslinger (Favre, for example) completes, there are about ten incompletions, three picks, and an intentional grounding.  There are plenty of times I've seen Manning's game taken away from, but I've never seen him give away a game a la Favre or Tony Romo.  I'm far from being football-obsessive, so this is open to reconsideration on my part, but here's the most compelling case I can make: of all the quarterbacks in the history of the game, perhaps only Johnny Unitas has borne as much of the offense's load as Manning.  Perhaps only Unitas and Joe Montana have presided over changes in the game as radical as that which Manning has precipitated.  Perhaps only Montana, Dan Marino, Brady, and Drew Brees are as deadly and consistently accurate as Manning.  And, as a leader, he is clearly one of the best.

  I see only Unitas and Montana as QBs who have any claim at all to being better than Manning.  I see only Brady, John Elway, and Dan Marino as being his peers.  Someday Aaron Rodgers may be there as well, and one has to see a ridiculous potential for Andrew Luck to be some combination of Favre, Rodgers, and Manning.  Manning's legacy?  Maybe the best ever, certainly no worse than third.

  But hey, I'm biased.  I was well on my way to ignoring football again when I just happened to dial up the Monday night football game back on October 6, 2003, where Manning lit up a legendary Tampa Bay defense (at Tampa Bay!) for 21 points in the final four minutes of regulation to send the game into overtime, and then put together one last drive to take the game.  It remains, to this day, one of the greatest football games I've seen, and I was a Manning fan for life, and a pro football fan for as long as he is still playing.  The greatest ever?  I think so, even if I would allow two others to sneak in front of him.

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  But alas, we've come back full circle, to the hype machine.  One thing we can count on: the vast, overwhelming majority of sports commentary is just plain stupid and misguided.  Stupid, arrogant, and proud in its ignorance. It's not that I brook no disagreements re: Manning's legacy, it's just that they're so stupid in the way they discuss it.  Logic has no place in the sports reporter's arsenal.  But hey, that's no big deal, all you have to do is close the paper, shut down the computer, turn off the TV, right?

  Maybe not: you see, sports is still the most accessible common activity that we can share.  We were urged to participate in sports as youngsters so we could "learn important life lessons".  These "important life lessons" are unfortunately built around the same illogical "common sense" cliches that are currency at all levels of association with sport; and these "life lessons" become the tree that bears poison fruit in so many areas of culture.

  But that's a topic for another day.  I've already gone on far too long.

The Fives: Quarterbacks

Since I moved most of my short form blogging to tumblr., this site has slowed to a crawl.  Just to kind of keep things moving, I will post a list of five things every so often.  This recurring nightmare will be called "The Fives".

1. Tom Brady
2. Peyton Manning
3. Drew Brees
4. Aaron Rodgers
5. Andrew Luck

Ich bin ein Packer

What I think will happen?  Steelers 28 - 21 over the Pack.  What I want to happen?  A SUPER BOWL VICTORY FOR THE PEOPLE'S TEAM!

How to Fix Football

Easy: no helmets, no pads.  Play American football in rugby gear.  If defensive players can feel the pain, they won't be able to turn themselves into human missiles. Lots more bruises, lots more contusions, infinitely fewer concussions, fewer ruined careers and lives.

I love football, but had I any children, I would probably forbid them from playing it. You are perhaps not as likely to die as you are in, say, auto racing, but it is becoming more and more likely that you will be sacrificing your brain and overall wellbeing to the sport.

Peyton Manning on the Sidelines

"Peyton, seriously, shut the fuck up."

"See? Headphones. I'm not listening, so shut the fuck up. And you can pout all you want, because I'm not looking, either. No, I didn't look. I know you're pouting because you always fucking pout. Stop it. Stop it and go away."

"Yeah, I hear you. I been hearing you. And I'm tired of hearing you. Just shut the fuck up, will you? I'm tired of your whining. I'm tired of your stinking breath in my face. Just shut up, will you please?"

"I'm not listening, Peyton. See? Headphones. Just move along now."

"Didn't I already tell you to just shut the fuck up? Why don't you take off that helmet so I can punch you in your enormous fucking forehead. C'mon, take it off. It's not like it matters. I'll be back driving a beer truck in a couple weeks anyway. Fuck you. And pull Sorgi's nose out of your ass while you're at it."

"Fine. Fuck all you guys. Who are all you, anyway? I mean, Jim Caldwell? Curtis Painter? Who are you kidding? I'm Peyton Manning, and I spell my name M - V - fucking P. I don't need any of you."

"Fuck all those guys, anyway. Who needs 'em? At least you got my back, Eli."
"I will kill you in your sleep, Peyton."

Charlie Weis Must Go - Now!

"You are what you are, folks, and right now you're a 6-5 football team. And guess what? That's just not good enough. That's not good enough for you, and it's certainly not going to be good enough for me." -- Charlie Weis, five years ago, upon being hired as the new Head Football Coach at Notre Dame

"If they decide to make a change, I'd have to say I'd have a tough time arguing with that. If they decide to make a change, I'd have a tough time arguing that because 6-5 is not good enough, especially when you've lost five games by a touchdown or less and several three-point games that went right down to the wire. My intent is to be here. But if that were the rationale, I mean it would be tough for me to argue with that point." -- Charlie Weis on Sunday, after an overtime loss to UConn dropped the Irish to 6 - 5.

NBC, sensing (and adding to) the writing on the wall, ran the clip from Weis's introductory press conference toward the end of the UConn debacle. It was a nice move on NBC's part, hoisting Weis on his own petard, as it were.

That's at the core of the whole Weis problem: his Parcells/Belichick - bred arrogance cast him as a make-or-break proposition. And Weis broke. Now, it's time for him to go. What's more, Weis needs to be the one to resign. He can't wait for Swarbrick to fire him. He needs to announce his resignation effective at the end of the season, and he needs to do it before the Stanford game. It's the only way to put any kind of positive spin on his lackluster tenure at his alma mater.

Under different circumstances, he might have one more year. He has great people going into their senior years at his offensive skill positions, including the nation's best quarterback (Jimmy Clausen), one of the best all-purpose ballhandlers in the nation (receiver/returner/wildcat back Golden Tate), and a very solid running back (Armando Allen). They also have potentially the best tight end in the nation (a freaky talented Kyle Rudolph), and one of the best new-school wide receivers (Michael Floyd). The O-line is a bit more problematic, but there seems to be enough underclassmen in rotation to get the job done as well as it was this year (frankly, the O-line was good this year, but they should have been dominant). And the defense? Well, the defense sucks anyway, so you have to figure that they can assemble something better, no matter what they have to start with. If there can be an arguement made for retaining Weis, there is no reason that co-Defensive Coordinators Corwin Brown and John Tenuta get one more year in South Bend.

I know that, last year, I said Weis should have only one more year. However, if I'm the AD, I'm looking at a team which should have been a top-ten team that is returning some absolutely ridiculous talent. A new head coach virtually assures that a senior-heavy lineup will be wasted, even if they actually hung around . . . and if my name is Clausen, Tate, Floyd, or Rudolph, I'm gone. So that, at least, is an argument for retaining Weis.

On the other hand, there is the dick-swinging that Weis has done since day one. That introductory press conference pretty much seals his fate. Sure, 6 - 5 sucks, but maybe you get forgiven for 6 -5 if you don't set that as the mountain you die on.

So Swarbrick is essentially in an untenable position. The best option for next year is to keep Weis, since that represents the best possible outcome for the next season. And the payoff could be substantial: the talent is top ten, even if the coaching hasn't been even close to that level. On top of that, a coaching change virtually guarantees another mediocre season. But it was Weis himself who set the bar, and he has failed. Swarbrick will be hung out to dry if he dares retain Weis. He has to fire Weis. He has no choice.

This whole thing goes back to the firing of Ty Willingham. If that fiasco had been handled properly, then Swarbrick would have room to operate. But, Willingham was fired prematurely, so there is a heightened situation for Swarbrick and Weis to deal with. And, of course, Weis himself added to the problem with his aforementioned dick-swinging. It is completely fair to point out that Weis's .573 winning percentage is worse than Willingham's (and Davie's) .583. And given Weis's arrogance, he has to be held accountable.

There are a lot of things that Weis has done right at Notre Dame, and they are important things: Notre Dame's graduation rate is even better now than the high standards set previously. His recruiting classes have been the best Notre Dame has seen since the '80's, and he hasn't had the same "character questions" that floated around the Holtz teams. The Weis teams have all represented Notre Dame in the best possible manner off the field.

And yet, that isn't enough. Why? Because of the arrogance of Weis himself. The only way this will end acceptably is if Weis announces his resignation this week.

Cheer, Cheer . . .

Between the first draft and publication of this post, Notre Dame confirmed that it would retain the services of Charlie Weis for at least one more year. Originally the decision was not to be made until at least 12/8, but instead new AD Jack Swarbrick decided to fly out to the West Coast to talk to Weis yesterday. In so doing, Swarbrick showed decisiveness and savvy: he knew Weis was out west recruiting, and the last thing Weis needed on a recruiting trip was ESPN deliberating his fate on air ad infinitum. So, on with the show . . .

As a Notre Dame grad, it is not simply my right, but my duty (like voting) to weigh in on the football program. And friends, these are not the best of times for said program. Please allow me the conceit of actually taking this seriously for a short time. Thank you.

Notre Dame football has not been consistently relevant since Lou Holtz left after the '96 season. Under Bob Davie, Tyrone Willingham, and Weis, Notre Dame has compiled a record of 84-62. All three have moved consistently in and out of the top 25 and even the top 10, but never have they been a legitimate threat for a national championship (in spite of hype saying otherwise at various points during these three regimes). At most schools, especially schools of a theoretically scholastic bent, that would be plenty good enough. But not at Notre Dame. You see, before Notre Dame was an academically ranked school, it was a football school - home of Knute Rockne and the Gipper, Frank Leahy and "The Four Horsemen". There was once a time, during Leahy's tenure, that Notre Dame was so dominant and brutal that they had trouble filling their schedule - teams were tired of getting thrashed by them, and also more than a bit put off by their win-at-any-cost arrogance.

It is hard to understand just how dominant ND was at the time. There were always one or two other schools who could challenge, but really no more. In current terms, think if you took Pete Carroll's USC teams, Jim Tressel's Ohio State teams, and the Hawkins/Peterson Boise State teams, and then eliminated every other team that played better football than this year's Indiana University squad. You would have one school that was dominant (USC), two schools who could provide varying degrees of challenge (OU, Boise State), and everybody else being essentially non-competitive. Maybe you would get the occasional upstart to catch the big dog off guard (like Stanford actually did to SC last year), but everything was more or less preordained.

That was, of course, a long time ago. Such dominance is currently not possible. But even now, in the modern era of football factories and NCAA administration, Notre Dame has had more than its fair share of success, starting with Ara Parseghian and continuing through Dan Devine and Lou Holtz. And while a vocal minority of ND grads will never be satisfied (Devine was continually hounded by a "Dump Devine" campaign, even during his championship season, in spite of a record that ended up 53-16-1), it is achievement at the level of a Devine or a Holtz that the faithful expect . . . even at the same time others question whether such a goal is possible, or even desirable, given Notre Dame's stated goals and expectations as an elite academic institution.

On December 12, 2004, Charlie Weis stepped into the post-Holtz ennui of Notre Dame football. He carried with him a pedigree, a Notre Dame degree, and an arrogance that had its source in both. He boldly announced that Notre Dame would return to the glory days, and do so without the kind of compromise on character and academic issues that some (most notably ex-Golden Boy Paul Hornung) mused aloud might be necessary. Weis proclaimed that he could win "the Notre Dame way", and proceeded to use his fistful of Super Bowl rings to bulldoze his way from Bill Belichick's side into the world of college football. Along the way he patronized his fans and incensed his opponents, much as his role models (Belichick and Bill Parcells) still do. At first, this was tolerated, even expected, from a "winner" of the Parcels/Belichick school. When Weis managed to take USC to the final play in his first season (the Irish had not beaten USC since 2001, and had not been competitive with them in that time), he pushed AD Kevin White into a ridiculous contract extension based on his self-proclaimed genius and the "decided schematic advantage" the ex-Patriots coordinator offered ND. From there, Weis failed to fully capitalize on his various advantages and talents (both his and his players) the next year. In his third year, the bottom fell out: a 3-9 record that saw the Irish be competitive only in the games they won. His fourth year, the one just now closing, was only marginally better: while the team was more competitive than the previous year, the Irish nonetheless looked even worse than their 6-6 record indicated. Weis's job was clearly on the line.

Weis's personality and arrogance, especially towards the press (another Belichick/Parcells trademark), contributed to his somewhat hostile treatment by the media - those that you step on when going up will not hesitate to kick you on your way down. Vocal critics such as ESPN's Mark May (who hates Notre Dame, not just Weis) and ESPN.com's Pat Forde (who has a history of publicly grinding his personal axes - see his treatment of Bob Knight) had a heyday even as more middle of the road reporters continued to stoke the fires with continuous commentary. But there are other issues as well, most of which are out of Weis's control.

First, there are the haters. There will always be haters. Success breeds opposition, it is that simple. No one really pays serious attention to schadenfreude, so that, at least, isn't really worth discussing. Second, there is the tradition of arrogance at Notre Dame, which we've seen already in reference to Frank Leahy. This is exacerbated by Notre Dame's status as a private, elite academic university with a lofty tuition price tag. Third, there is the monster television contract Notre Dame signed with NBC through 2010. While I understand that having one contract with Notre Dame and one contract with every other team in college football can seem arrogant to some, it's an arrogance I think the University should live with, given the insane amount of money that contract pours into the general scholarship fund (it should be noted here that Notre Dame has one of maybe five major football programs which puts money back into the school rather than draining the scholarship fund to the tune of millions of dollars). Fourth (and most problematic for Weis) is the mishandling of Tyronne Willingham.

Notre Dame always had an unspoken policy of giving every coach five years to prove his worth on the football field. In that regard, though their standards were very high, their coaches at least had a little time to reshape the team in his own image, so if indeed he did not achieve, at least it would be his own fault. Gerry Faust, for instance, struggled to follow the unpopular Dan Devine, and resigned in his fifth season when it looked clear that ND had every intention of firing him. Bob Davie had 5 years to get the team back up to the level of his predecessor, Lou Holtz. He didn't do it, so he didn't get a sixth year. Willingham started with promise, but like his predecessor Davie, did not get the team back near the top. The problem is that Willingham, who is not adept at building networks and alliances, was dismissed in his third year, rather than his fifth. This was made even worse by the fact that Willingham was one of the criminally few African-American head coaches in major college football. Add to that the same AD (White) who bungled this situation is responsible for the knee-jerk contract extension handed to Weis, and the animosity toward the University's questionable policies understandably swallowed up Weis as well. So now, here is Weis in his fourth year, and the very first point his critics use as evidence that he needs to go is a won/loss record that is worse than Willingham's was when he was fired.

No one claims that Willingham was doing a good job at Notre Dame, at least on the field and the recruiting trail. Very few believe Willingham would have turned in a fourth or a fifth season that would have saved his job. Indeed, he only lasted four years at his next job, Washington, and seemed to have learned very little from his downfall at Notre Dame. It was the simple principle of fair treatment: Weis's record wasn't any better than Willingham's at the same juncture ND gave Weis a raise and an extension. Weis's record was actually slightly worse than Willingham's was when Willingham was fired. And there is less reason to expect a successful fifth campaign out of Weis than out of Willingham (given the roster Willingham was returning). What possible reason is there for bringing back Weis?

Allow me to be the new AD for just a moment. First, I'm not the guy who bungled the Willingham situation, and I'm not the guy who panicked and gave Weis a ridiculous contract after almost (almost! how far we've fallen!) beating USC. I look at the old school ND tradition of giving a coach five years to get his act together on the field, and I think it's a good idea, so I stick with it. Weis is in his fourth year. End of discussion. I will not be bound by the idiocy of my predecessor. Discussion ended, decision made. Furthermore, I hear the endless grinding on Weis in the media, and I step up imediately to announce his retention, to help recruiting, if nothing else.

Additionally, I see that Weis has done a reasonable job as a recruiter. And his teams have managed to keep their noses clean off the field, as well: this was not a forgone conclusion in the Holtz/Davie era, and Willingham's most important legacy was shining up the team's reputation a bit in this area. The graduation rate is top-notch, and the actual grade point average of my football team is over 3.0, a tick better than it was under Willingham. All this tells me that there is nothing here to fire him over except his on-the-field performance, and for that he has five years to earn his stripes.

The next step I take is to set expectations with my coach: "Given next year's schedule, anything less than a 10-2 record will show you the door. Didn't you once say you would never again loose to Michigan State? Live up to it. Michigan State will not be one of your two losses if you expect to hang around for another year. And as far as USC is concerned, if you are not in the game in the fourth quarter, then pack your bags, because you're leaving South Bend, and not for a bowl game. And speaking of the bowl game, win it. Period. If not, go ahead and extend your vacation as long as you want, because it is no longer paid by me. So far you're doing a great job in other aspects of your job: keep it up, because it is absolutely the only reason you are still here. Any slippage there and even a national championship may not save you. Now, if you manage a 10-2 or better record, you beat Michigan State, you take SC down to the wire, and you win your bowl, then we have another year to work together. A national championship will win you two. Are we on the same page? Good. I'll announce the good news to the media forthwith."

And then, I start my lists. First is a list of alumni buyout donors, so the University doesn't take the hit for Charlie's buyout. Second is my list of potential replacements for Weis. Until such time that Weis is actually gone, that list only has one name on it: Tony Dungy.

Dungy will leave the Colts at the end of this season or next - the wheels on that move are already in motion. Dungy is leaving to do something with his life beyond football. The very reason that he will probably be impossible to get is the reason you really need to get him, above everybody else. As big as football is in Dungy's life, he knows that there is a bigger picture, and that how you win is even more important than winning - but, if you don't win, then there is no such thing as how you win, so it becomes a moot point for a losing team. Dungy has high standards for everyone around him, and he will hold everyone accountable to those standards. If you fail to live up to expectations, he will give you every opportunity to succeed the next time. If you do not suceed the next time, then he will move you to a position in which you can suceed, which may not actually be the position you joined the team for. If you don't try to live up to those expectations, then you are gone in the blink of an eye. Dungy has always been at the same time quick, decisive, and compassionate. Dungy is undoubtedly one of the best coaches in the pro game - only Belichick has acheived more. But above all, Dungy has always carried himself with a dignity that transcends the game of football. This is exactly the coach Notre Dame football needs.

I ask my coach, whoever that may be, to reach for the ultimate prize. I should expect nothing less of myself. The ultimate prize for Notre Dame football would be Tony Dungy as coach. I should be willing to pay whatever price necessary to get Dungy in South Bend. The problem is, with people like Dungy, it's not just cash that gets the job done: every man has his price, and sometimes that price can't be written with dollar signs. What is Dungy's price?

Well, now I'm down off the soapbox. There are plenty of other issues here, including a very real sense that it may be time for Notre Dame to de-emphasize football (it's a hell of a lot easier for academic schools to put up a basketball program - just ask Duke and Stanford), but this has already gone on way too long.

You may now stop pretending football matters.