Ah, the jumbotron — that offseason topic that fires up the Notre Dame fanbase like no other. The outrage and hot takes ranks somewhere right above Shamrock Series uniforms and right below re-gilding the Dome with platinum*. Bayou gave his thoughts earlier this week and I’ve made my thoughts on tradition and change well known in the past.
This Roundup will not re-hash those thoughts. Instead, I wanted to pass along some sage advice my pastor gave to myself and my future bride last weekend:
The only thing that I need to do this wedding are the two of you, myself, and a marriage license. Everything else is just extra. You’ll have other people give you all kinds of opinions on what they think your wedding should look like, but never forget, all of that is just the gravy added on.
And really a potential addition of a jumbotron**, an installation of field turf, new helmets, piped-in music, or the Halloween costumes that are the Shamrock Series uniforms is just that — it’s all gravy. The meat and potatoes of a football game is simply two teams facing off against each other with a ball, some coaches to lead the men into battle, and some officials to make sure it doesn’t turn into the Roman Coliseum.
Notre Dame Football, however, is far more special than that. There is a dessert that follows this football meal that we like to call “The Forty Year Decision”, a specialty that the majority of the top college football powerhouses simply don’t offer. Many thought that entire meal couldn’t be served at Notre Dame anymore. We felt as if Notre Dame Football turned into the “let them eat cake” of the college football world. That’s why 2012 was such a big deal and Kelly went as far to call it “Faith Restored”.
#1 in the BCS and #1 in GSR should have been one of the biggest stories in college football and should be a huge focal point in this offseason, but it wasn’t and still isn’t.
Because the focus is on the damned gravy.
Every time these arguments surface, it becomes much like arguments in wedding planning. Everyone has their idea, their vision, for the Notre Dame Football Experience®. If you can’t see eye-to-eye, then there just must be something wrong with you and your understanding of tradition, Rockne, technology, or Notre Dame itself. The arguments and anger over the ancillary rise to a fever pitch and the true heart of the entire event is lost in the fire.
“But, Tex” you say, “how are you so blind? Don’t you see that when Notre Dame tries new things they fall on their face? Just look at the first attempts at piped-in music and Shamrock Series Helmets. These things matter!“
Want to know why both of those occasions were such disasters? It wasn’t just horrid execution (make no mistake, both were terrible). It was because the surrounding games left a lot to be desired.
Against Southern Cal, we were beaten over the head by more than just “Crazy Train”. Notre Dame stumbled out of the gate, trailing 17-10 at the half, and just when it looked like the Irish had a chance to tie it up, Crist fumbled a snap and it went 80 yards in the other direction. Everyone was already in a sour mood because the game itself was ruined and a “Seven Nation Army” couldn’t hold back the anger of the end result.
To put it another way: no amount of gravy in the world is going to fix a crappy steak.
For the first two quarters we were pissed that our steak first came out raw, then as jerky. In the third, it we saw that perfectly cooked steak coming our way only to have the waiter trip over himself and dropping it, completely ruining that one as well. Finally, we get one more serving of charred mess and we’ve had it by that point. We try to wash it down with the gravy just so we can eat something, but even that is sour.
End result: we hate everything and everything sucks.
While the Maryland game was a decisive victory, the game itself was a bore. Toss in a sub-par opponent that we really didn’t care about, mix in scoring lulls against said sub-par team and you are left with plenty of time to focus on bad helmets and mismatched greens on the uniform.
Compare that to the Miami game which had uniforms sporting helmets that were far worse than anything Adidas could’ve dreamed of the year prior. The Irish defense dominated and the rushing game obliterated the Hurricanes in the second half. Oh, and it helped that this happened against Miami, a team universally hated by Irish fans.
Sure, the gravy might have been mysteriously two-toned and ugly as sin, but the main course was so tasty that you could happily ignore it and move it to the side.
“Well, Tex,” the other side now says, “thanks for proving our point!” As Lee Corso would say, “Not so fast!” (No, not that other famous Corso quote).
Just as no amount of gravy will save a piss-poor entree, far too much of it can smother and ruin it. Not only that, if too much focus is given to the sauce, you can likely expect the quality of your main dish to suffer as well. In short, there needs to be some form of balance.
To circle this back around to the original wedding analogy, I could easily ruin my own wedding by focusing on all the ancillary junk that really doesn’t matter. I could also go the opposite direction, completely bare-bones removing all the “gravy” as my pastor put it, but that would be a rather boring wedding. Adding a reception, family and friends, an open bar, and some music will certainly make the night more enjoyable for all and won’t completely overshadow the entire event of actually being wed.
And that’s pretty much where I’m at with anything added to ND Stadium or any future enhancements of the gameday experience. I’m fine with adding things as long as it doesn’t completely overrun the heart of Notre Dame Football.
By all accounts, ND gets that. The piped-in music has been reeled in and better thought out, complemented by mics amplifying the band (P.S. stop playing “Rumor Has It” for the love of all that is holy). Crazy uniforms have been relegated to one game a season, a game which isn’t even played in front of Touchdown Jesus. “Crazy Train” has turned into a punchline/actual thing that makes fans cheer despite its initial overuse.
But through it all, the heart of Notre Dame Football still remains: the quest for and expectation of excellence on and off the field. Until I actually see that change…well…it’s all gravy.
*I may or may not have totally made this up to properly equate said outrage
And when I talk about smothering with gravy, I give you Wyoming. While certainly not the worst of the field turf design offenders (hey, it’s at least green), going with mountains on this design is just a bit much.
I hope all of these go on Iowa’s jumbotron. I had no idea who Damon Bullock was before this week, but I now know he’s is absolutely hilarious.
Big Game Bob takes aim at the SEC. Oh man, I wish I had listened to Finebaum after these comments. Related, what in the hell happened to Stoop’s face?
The College Football Hall of Fame finally rights a major wrong. Tommie Frazier is finally in. Now let’s fix that whole Rocket not being in because seriously.
Want a look at the all-time wins race? Texas’ SBN presence, Barking Carnival, gives a mostly Texas-centric look; however, Notre Dame fans will be please to know just how close we are to surpassing Texas in this race.
So we’re making a little bit of our own gravy. Ok, that sounded completely wrong; however, we are dipping our toes into the merch pool with some #HLSRecap themed offerings. Yes, you can customize these with your Twitter handle if you so choose. Check them out, let us know what you think.
I have, admittedly been slacking on really finding some unique brews. I will remedy this soon; however, I think it’s fitting that this week I go in a different direction.
As I mentioned before, I have a wedding in my future and it will occur one year from now on this exact date. With that in mind, I remembered that the first drink I ever bought my future wife was, in fact, a beer:
Yeah, I pulled out all the stops on this one didn’t I? In my defense, this was what she wanted. DON’T JUDGE!
“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” If you tell me that’s from a really cool folk rock band and you like to listen to it late at night when you’re drunk and nostalgic because it reminds you of your high school senior retreat, I’ll increase your Theology requirement from two courses to 16. It is Biblical Wisdom Literature, and in this fleeting season of dramatic transition, we turn to it for guidance. Classes have ended, papers are coming due, final exams loom, and bags are being packed. Soon all students will leave for home and Notre Dame will fall silent, if ever so briefly. Let us take just a moment now to reflect on the year past, the summer upon us, and the year to come – to reflect on our seasons and our purposes. Besides, it’s a “Reading Day,” and this is a lot more edifying than the beer labels, bar menus, and South Bend Silver Hawks tickets you’ve been reading for the last two days.
A time to be born, and a time to die. Figuratively, the year that was 2012-2013 is dying. But, oh, what a year it was! Grapes have to die to make fine wine, and one good school year must come to an end in order for a new one to be born. The vintage that has been 2012-2013 will find a place of honor in the cellars of Notre Dame du Vin. And it’s just a foretaste of the sweetness that will be 2013-2014, which is ready to be born in just three months’ time. Now let that sublime thought wash over you while grinding out that last Philosophy paper or studying for that Chemistry final. And knock it off with the wine, or you’ll fail both.
A time to plant, and a time to uproot. We have some lovely grounds, don’t we! Especially in Spring with everything is in bloom. When you step out in the last few days on campus, let the natural beauty of the place form a lasting memory for you, so that whatever unpleasant tasks you must complete, you will remember Notre Dame and rejoice in anticipation of your return. But don’t pluck any of the flowers, or you will find a groundskeeper revving his lawnmower right outside your window at 7:00 in the morning. And, groundskeepers, while your plantings are gorgeous, I wouldn’t be at all offended if you cut down those flowering trees that smell of profound body odor.
A time to kill, and a time to heal. Kill all those tiffs and grudges you’ve held onto throughout the year, especially with your roommates. You may not be living with them next year, and you may not be living anywhere near them next year. But – who knows – you may never see them again either. You don’t have to part company on great terms, but at least go your separate ways on civil terms, because you yourself were no prize to live with. And if you’re having trouble healing the wounds in any friendship, kill a bottle of wine with your old pal; at least you’ll forget why you can’t stand him.
A time to break down, and a time to build up. Your rooms – you’ve had to break down your rooms. And I know that was very hard for some of you, because you invested hours and great effort in making you little square of Notre Dame a showplace. Truly, I have never seen cardboard beer cases used to create so many fetching interior designs. I don’t really know what a “Man Cave” is, but if you made a fine one this year, perhaps you can advance to a “Masculine Cavern” in your new room next year. Over the summer, some dorms will be renovated, most will not – but either way, you won’t be able to tell the difference. And Morrissey…there’s nothing we can do about Morrissey.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh. I hope you love Notre Dame, I really do. But cool it with the weeping. It’s college – it’s only supposed to last four years. So love it, but don’t get maudlin. And we had llamas. I would think that seeing llamas on the quad would be enough to make you laugh – why do you have to set couches on fire just to get a giggle?
A time to mourn, and a time to dance. Less dancing during “Reading Days” and you won’t be mourning when your grades come in. And you can’t tell me that St. Edward’s Yacht Dance is not an elaborate scheme to flee parietals by seeking refuge in international waters. If your parents are hippies, you get three months of no parietals – so just deal with my French boarding school rules for a few more days.
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together. Ummm…the Grotto is a large gathering of stones…and…well, we know that there were certain medicinal plants in ancient Israel that caused fantastical dreams or hallucinations. That might account for some of the visions in the Bible; and it might account for this mysterious piece of advice. So we’ll just leave it at: don’t get stoned and avoid stoners.
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing. Nothing after midnight from here on out. Your bed at home is your homefield – you may welcome as many fans as you want. Just not here in The BVM’s house.
A time to keep, and a time to throw away. Make a list of all the good things you did this year, all the achievements and all the celebrations. Then make a list of all the disappointments, mistakes, and failures. Keep the first and promise yourself that you will repeat and multiply everything on that list next year. Take the second, wrap it around a stone, and throw it in St. Mary’s Lake. It’s deep – you will never see that list again. And the act of writing might get you off our butt to finish that Philosophy paper.
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak. It’s important to speak to those who are important to you before the whirlwind of finals week begins and comes crashing to a staggering close. Don’t miss the chance to say ‘see you next year,’ or ‘farewell,’ or even sometimes ‘goodbye.’ But then respect those quiet hours. Just because you’re confident you’ll pass, doesn’t mean your neighbors are. If you’re having trouble keeping your voice down and maintaining a respectful silence, imagine you’re an alum sitting in the Stadium during a big third down – that’ll shut you up tighter than a duck’s butt.
A time to love and, and a time to hate. It’s been a pretty good year – indeed, this year was, itself, a time to love. If you made the most of your year, you really shouldn’t have had much time to hate. But if that’s not the case for you, come back in August and start over as though from the beginning. Remember: one Spring, as my lads went home, the Main Building was a smoldering heap of rubble – but by the time they came back in the Fall, a new one had risen in its place. And it’s still there.
A time of war, and a time of peace. Have a peaceful summer. The war starts at 3:30 on the afternoon of August the 31st, in the Stadium.
Yes, you read the title correctly: The Subway Domer has pulled a recruiting coup for the IBG and NDNation has joined the fold.
For the post Blue/Gold Game edition, we got the first crack at asking questions of Mike Coffey, aka El Kabong, of NDNation. He, in turn, has asked his questions three of Kieth Arnold of Inside the Irish who will eventually have Subway’s answers up. And you can find my answers over at The Subway Domer this week. Eventually, we will have the Strong and True blog back in the fold once they find someone to fill Josh Flynt’s shoes.
Without further ado, here are Mike’s answers to my questions:
1) Needless to say, the offense struggled mightily, especially in the red zone. Do you feel that this a sign of future offensive struggles or a chance to praise the Irish defense?
I believe it’s neither.
The Spring Game is a difficult thing to analyze. We ND football fans haven’t seen a meaningful snap in three in a half months (or more, depending on how you felt about the bowl game) and won’t see one for another four months. We’ve got a jones to see the players in action in a game-like atmosphere at the location we all associate with great games, and the Spring Game gives us that. Trouble is, given the familiarity the players have with each other’s abilities, the general knowledge of the plays being run, and the well-known tendency of coaching staffs in general (and this one in particular) to play things close to the vest in a non-competitive situation, it doesn’t give us much else.
No doubt the defense “showed” more than the offense during the scrimmage. Maybe they were more motivated. Maybe they took advantage of the temporarily poor OL depth or the larger number of dinged-up players on offense. Maybe Chuck Martin didn’t want to show off too much in a situation that didn’t matter. Maybe our defense is really really good and when our offense goes up against a less-talented group, it’ll be their time to shine. Maybe the the red-jersey rules limited Everett Golson in ways we won’t see when Temple comes to town.
In the words of Edward Nygma, too many questions. Guessing which (if any) of the possibilities are true is just that — guessing. We know we had a good defense last year, and nothing that happened Saturday showed us any different. We know the offense had its issues last year at times, and nothing that happened Saturday showed us any different. Unfortunately, until that first snap on August 31st, that’s what we’re left with, and I don’t want to color the perception of what happens at and after that snap with judgments based on guesses.
Given the caveats of answer #1, I was interested in seeing a couple things.
The OL was low on bodies, so I went in expecting them to have problems. I thought they performed relatively well given the limitation, but certainly wasn’t wowed. I would have liked to see their ground game performance more, as that’s what I expect will drive the success or failure of the unit next season. I enjoy ND being able to redshirt freshmen offensive linemen to allow them to grow and get more seasoned, but it’s possible we won’t have that luxury this year.
Given the change in depth at the position, I was also interested in comparing Malik Zaire to his competitors, both physically and (to an extent) emotionally. I found him to be very refreshing in both aspects. I thought his passes had good power and accuracy, certainly moreso than Andrew Hendrix. He seemed to exhibit a reasonable confidence for a freshman. It remains to be seen if we’ll see him behind center at any point, and I’d expect Brian Kelly and the staff will do their utmost to preserve a redshirt year for him. Having said that, however, if Golson has the improvement we all expect, it’s not a given he’ll be behind center for a third year in a row, and perhaps some experience for Zaire will leave ND in a better position for 2014. If they don’t, Rees once again was his workman-like self, and while he has his limitations, I wouldn’t be prepared to throw the season away if the situation meant extended time for him at QB.
As I noted above, Zaire’s performance made me interested in seeing what he’ll be able to do, especially on the ground to keep defenses honest. C.J. Prosise certainly is more than serviceable at a position of need. I liked George Atkinson, but if he doesn’t learn to keep those pads down, he’ll miss more time this year.
But I would say the guy who stood out for me was Chuck Martin. Even though he’s the OC for an offensive-minded coach, he’s putting his stamp on the game plan. He probably never will run the ball as much as I’d like, but he’s shown he respects the need for (at least a semblance of) balance. For a guy who spent most of his time on the defensive side of the ball prior to ND, that’s a great thing to see, and had Brian Kelly’s chat with the Eagles gone a different way, I’d be comfortable with Martin at the helm.
“When criticizing a Catholic institution, be sure to troop out quaint stereotypes so that your comments contain vague accusations of sacrilege or apostasy, and the humorous implication that its leaders are, in fact, just bad Catholics.” At least that’s what I presume is written in the general press conference guidelines down at Arizona State. Or maybe the athletic director has one of those desk calendars that gives a new piece of advice for every day of the year. But if that’s the case, he really should have checked the calendar for October, where on the fifth day of the month it is written, “If you mess with the Golden Calf, you get the horns.”
It seems that we’ve had to cancel an athletic engagement with Arizona State because we’re joining our new conference. The same thing happened to Michigan, whose athletic director was quite literally served with papers right before last season’s game… “When criticizing a Catholic lawyer, be sure…” To Michigan’s credit (which is fleeting and flimsy at best) their official statement simply said that the Wolverines may not want, nor ever again have time in its schedule, to play the Irish. No need to worry – they’ve thrown the 30-odd-year tantrum before.
All this for a conference? And one in which we aren’t playing football? Well, we’re playing some football, but not officially playing all our football… “When conference affiliations are negotiated by a Catholic lawyer…venial and mortal games…never on Friday…” With so much spleen being vented by those we’re leaving behind, one must wonder what sort of friends and neighbors we’ll have once we’ve moved to Atlantis. Why not give our conference the name of a mythical geographic location, since geographic designations have become really quite mythical in conference names? And so here is my impression of our new Atlantean opponents:
University of Maryland – We’ll get them out of the way first, since they’re getting out of the conference. I like the name of the state; I might have named my University Mary Land, had it not already been taken. I like the Catholic history of the state. I like that their mascot has the fine Latin name “Testudo.” But I can’t say I like their judgment, since they’re moving to a conference whose Latin name would best be rendered “Naufragio” – shipwreck.
Wake Forest University – We were just introduced to these fine Southern gentlemen this past season. Wake Forest sounds like the name of a country club – and this one admits Catholics. They play football like the play golf: stately pace, no rush, light contact, no rude remarks, nothing unsportsmanlike, and complimentary baked goods when it’s all over.
North Carolina State University – Professor-Emeritus Holtz used to coach the football team here, so they can’t be all bad. Of course, I don’t think he held a professorship at that point in his career…because I’m not sure N.C. State has professors per se.
Clemson University – They have a rock named Howard. Their stadium is called something like “The Valley of the Shadow of Death,” which is nice and Biblical. I think they have a tiger. But I know their players can take a punch.
Syracuse University – For a brief period, we had that portly man who didn’t understand that a football team must also play defense if it desires to win; nor did he understand that a team cannot lose half of its games and still make the playoffs as a wildcard…because we don’t have wildcards or playoffs. Before him there was that other fellow who wasn’t any good either. Suffice it to say, Syracuse was a problem then – they will not be a problem now.
University of North Carolina – We’ve played them 18 times. We’ve lost twice. Please refer back to the discussion of the portly man who didn’t do defense or winning.
Duke University – As long as the ball is pointed at both ends and not round, I have no problem playing them.
University of Virginia – I didn’t know they played football.
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University – What a cool name.
Georgia Institute of Technology – They’re engineers, so you might think they wouldn’t be much trouble – like Purdue. And in fact, they really aren’t much trouble…on the field. Their fans’ behavior is another matter entirely. They like to throw fish at us. Once again, “When insulting a Catholic institution…” Yes, we eat fish on Fridays. And the Georgia Tech wrecks also like to throw booze bottles at us…Touché, Yellow Jackets.
University of Pittsburgh – The bottomless Pitt. The games go on forever and we apparently can’t escape playing them.
Florida State University – This one feels unpleasantly like an incipient USC. The Seminoles are usually a challenge and their fans are so very crass. Also just like the Trojans, they have a gelding for a mascot – and he rides a horse, too.
State Penitentiary University of Miami – Really? Meeting Miami once in a while is fine, but getting into the pool with them can only lead to us having to towel off a nasty slick that clings. Yes, we’re Catholic – we believe in forgiveness of sins. But there has to be penance first. For the Hurricanes’ own good, we’ll penance them hard.
So, on balance, it’s not a bad group of football opponents. And moving to Atlantis will be good for basketball and all our myriad athletic teams. There are a couple of unsavory characters in the bunch, but every conference has its skunks at the family picnic. Still, I feel as though I’m forgetting someone or something. But I’ve gone through all the universities and institutes of technology. Whatever could I have left out…oh, that’s right…
Boston College – I’d make a nun joke or a snide fish-eaters comment, but those are only humorous when ridiculing a Catholic institution.
For obvious reasons, I will not be publishing a column called “Good Fridays” this week. If you think The Lord was angry when he took a whip of cords to the temple moneychangers, try blaspheming on the His least favorite day of the year. Hence I have moved to today, Spy Wednesday. We call it that because this was the day Judas Iscariot, the spy among the Apostles, sold Jesus to the Sanhedrin for 30 pieces of silver. He then famously betrayed The Lord with a kiss – were that to happen today, no doubt there would be eight pictures snapped of the betrayal kissing, and posted on some gossip page. Betrayal in our midst might seem to be a pertinent topic, since we have now suffered three defections from the football team. Though we hate to see them go, each lad has a very good reason for seeking to move elsewhere (at least one of those reasons needs regular diaper changing and feeding).
Maundy Thursday is about the Last Supper; Holy Saturday is about waiting for Jesus to come out of the tunnel tomb; Easter Sunday is about Resurrection to new life (not coming back to life after faking your death because drug dealers are pursuing you even though you never really existed); and the only Passion at Notre Dame on Good Friday better be the one read in Sacred Heart. So for Spy Wednesday, let’s play a little game about what we’ve secretly seen and heard, some of which may actually be true.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter “C” –
Camouflage is reportedly entering the football uniform roulette for this season. It has the advantage of being generally green. It is designed to hide the wearer in a natural environment, so it could be used to conceal Irish receivers and running backs on a grass field. Thus camouflage may not be worn in the Stadium for too much longer. However, as we have seen with basketball uniforms, when you dress like a clown the whole game turns into a bad joke. Camouflage is not worn by buffoons, but by warriors and hunters; and if it inspires the lads to fight and win, let them wear it…for ONE game.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter “S” –
Screen – a very big screen – one for each end zone. The “J” word is not used, both because it is verboten and because that is not technically what is being shopped. You see, when they entombed our beloved Stadium in its concrete sarcophagus, the television people paid for the lights with the concurrent promise never to use them for a night game. This opened the possibility for literally power-hungry electronic devices to be mounted above the battlements. The ‘scoreboards’ such as they are, bear no resemblance to the originals which were structurally part of the outer wall; these new ones are just big light boxes set upon two pylons – and they’re old. It’s time for replacements, so why not buy fancier light boxes that just happen to have a very big screen built in. In fact, all the options on the market seem to have a screen feature, so it’s really unavoidable (and therefore, no one’s decision/fault). Again, if it inspires the team; if it raises the level of enthusiasm in the Stadium above the current ‘wake for a loved one’ level of intensity; if it draws recruits who are not impressed by technology older than they are, but not yet old enough to be historic or iconic; then this is a positive innovation. Remember, the original-original scoreboards had clocks with a big hand and a little hand. And before that, we used cardboard and paint.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter “P” –
Plastic grass will grow…in places. For those sections of the field’s periphery where too many feet grind God’s greens into goo, the fake stuff is moving in. It’s more humane – it saves the little grasses from a slow and painful death by crushing. But it’s going to make the real grass look weathered, worn, and sloppy, especially late in the season (and it’s supposed to). The goal is for this plastic grass to miraculously spread like weeds. Once it has a foothold in the corners and on the sidelines, it will never be uprooted. We used to put down carpets over muddy areas for spectators. They were a little hard to clean, but easier than cleaning the spectators. Philosophically, I don’t see any difference between avoiding a swampy mess with carpets or fake grass…except that you can’t play an entire season on carpets, which is the eventual plan for the lawn toupee.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter “R” –
Renegotiating a contract is a tricky thing. What do you give the man who already has so much, and who could go somewhere else to get more? How about promises. Or even better, how about power. Whatever the last fellow’s shortcomings (and they were many) he blamed the University’s Byzantine structures of authority and custom for limiting his abilities and achievements. Well of course we have an elaborate and hidebound bureaucracy, comprised of resident and non-resident wielders-of-influence – what else would you expect from a Catholic school founded on a French model? But this has left Professor Kelly feeling as though he has to fight for permission to succeed. Fortunately, Professor Swarbrick is in a position to give him what he wants, because Professor Swarbrick holds the position of Vice President. Quite an unusual and important hat to wear in addition to that of athletic director. And it means that, in addition to pocket money and well-paid friends, he can give Professor Kelly a properly large sphere of influence, free from local and national meddling. Squarely in the center of this sphere is located a large Stadium where there are no more player walks…and so much more. It must have been hard for Professor Kelly to take orders from tens-of-thousands of bosses, especially when most of them only want to preserve a way of life that ceased to exist decades ago (and, even then, existed only in their minds). All Professor Kelly wants for Easter is the authority to make LOTS of decisions. In return, for Christmas he will give us another undefeated season.
I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter “G” –
Gold was not the preferred covering for the Dome on my new Main Building. That was my idea, and solely my idea. In fact, it was a very unpopular idea. It was viewed as an unnecessarily costly and ostentatious innovation. ‘We didn’t have a Golden Dome before, why would we need or want one now,’ went the argument. I was entirely alone in my vision for a Golden Dome, to the extent that the traditionalists and old-fashioned fuddy-duddys on my council of administration were opposed to me. So first I took over the chairmanship of the council; then I refused to allow it to meet until it approved my Golden Dome; and then I packed my bags and moved to St. Mary’s so they couldn’t trick or force me into having a meeting. That was a bit odd for me and for the girls, but I wasn’t going to give up until I got my way. I think you can tell who won that battle. So I moved home back across the street, my Dome was gilded, and change came to Notre Dame.
A glittering dome in Northern Indiana was a pretty wild idea in 1886. And though it was expensive, the Dome didn’t cost our University the figurative 30 shekels…and its Gold, not silver.