AT the University of Notre Dame every spring, male students compete for the prized honour of being named the official leprechaun mascot of the gridiron team for the following season. The contestants are judged on how they perform stunts, the quality of their cheerleading, and their ability to conduct media interviews. The winner gets to gambol up and down the sideline at games, garbed in the most garish green suit, replete with floppy hat, wearing a red beard without a moustache and carrying a shillelagh. Notwithstanding any offence caused to the people of Ireland, this ersatz little green man is said to bring good fortune to the team.
This year's leprechaun . . . Matt Phipps from Dallas . . . has not been doing his job of furnishing the side any luck and has cut an increasingly forlorn figure over the past month. Going into yesterday's clash with Purdue, Notre Dame had four resounding defeats from the first four games. The worst start in a storied history stretching back more than a century, the institution famously nicknamed "The Fighting Irish" (at least in part due to Eamon De Valera's 1919 visit there) has been dubbed "The Fretting Irish" and "The Fighting Rash" by rival fans. Beyond the South Bend, Indiana campus not too many tears are being shed about the demise of American's most famous collegiate team.
Plenty of people are enjoying the spectacle of their downfall because alumni of other colleges jealously resent the way Notre Dame has the most lucrative national television contract (NBC pay $9m a year just for the rights to show home games) and receives inordinate amounts of media coverage even though they haven't contended for a championship since the early '90s. Even against the background of a decade and a half without figuring in the shake-up for the national title, the sheer awfulness of the current campaign has been as shocking for supporters as it has been delightful for detractors.
Explanations are easy enough to come by. In the college game, a team is only as good as the players it recruits. This is why coaches spent much of the offseason criss-crossing America, knocking on doors and trying to lure the finest talents to their campus. Some do so by illegal means with all manner of allegations about illicit payments and exaggerations of academic qualifications. Notre Dame is one of the few who do it by the book and refuse to bend academic requirements. The problem is the current senior class which should be bulwarking this season's squad came out of a bad year's recruiting and the situation is exacerbated by the fact the younger students who are filling their spots aren't experienced enough yet to make an impact.
"We're trying to build some underlying talent right here that's moving up the ranks that has some playing experience, " said coach Charlie Weis. "I think the more guys you get involved the better off in the long term you're going to be. When everyone knows their role and accepts their role and is involved in the game plan, nobody is stagnant where they know they're going to be sitting on the sideline the whole game."
A former graduate, Weis returned to Notre Dame in 2005 bringing a reputation as the most brilliant offensive coaching mind in the NFL.
There, he had been the brains behind the tactical schemes that allowed Tom Brady to lead the New England Patriots to three Super Bowls. Having won 19 games out of 25 over his first two campaigns with teams that ultimately flattered to deceive in the biggest fixtures, he received a 10year contract extension amid talk about various NFL teams being eager to headhunt him back to the pro ranks.
Bizarrely, the whispers now are about Notre Dame alumni wondering whether the college inserted a buy-out clause to allow them to prematurely terminate the deal. It may not come down to that. Pundits reckon Weis has recruited so well of late that once he rides out this storm, Notre Dame will again be ranked among the top 25 (a coveted table revised each week during the season) colleges.
The chances of that happening rest largely on the shoulders of a spiky-haired 19-year-old quarterback from California named Jimmy Clausen. A high school legend, Clausen was pursued by every major university and declared for Notre Dame in a televised press conference.
He chose South Bend because the opportunity to work with Weis offered the best preparation for somebody with legitimate NFL aspirations. Following a bizarre pre-season during which the coach dithered about whether to name Clausen or two older but more experienced players as his starting quarterback, the kid now has the job. It says much for the state of the team around him though that he didn't throw a touchdown in the first four matches and instead got sacked 18 times.
"It's easy to be a quarterback when things are going well, " said Weis. "You're the one that everyone wants to pat on the back and give all the credit to. But when things are not going well, it's a lot tougher test. Jimmy's far from being the problem here. We have a whole litany of things that are involved in being the problem.
But he'll continue to develop the way he's been developing, he'll continue to get better, and positive things are ahead for him."
And possibly for the offending leprechaun too.
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