The Victors
As I watched the valiant Wolverines' triumph over the vile Fighting Irish on Saturday, the first Michigan game of the season I'd been able to watch on television, I felt two very familiar emotions: exultation at the prowess and skill of my boys in the beloved maize and blue and vicious joy at the ineptitude of those golden domed braggarts. At the same time, I felt a new and completely mystifying sensation: compassion for my dear friend Alistair, a proud Notre Dame alumnus and a better, kinder man than me. What the dickens?

The sometimes acrimonious Michigan-Notre Dame arguments between Alistair and your humble narrator are a rite of Fall here at The Secret Base: I think the Irish are worthy of scorn, he thinks they are worthy of praise; he bristles against Fielding Yost's anti-Catholic crusade of a century ago, I forgive Yost because he was an anti-Catholic bastard a century ago. But through it all I manage to keep my hatred of Notre Dame from having any ill-effect on my attitude toward Alistair. On my more generous days, I can even credit him for his unfailing loyalty to his alma mater. But his also normally interdicts any positive feelings I might derive from Notre Dame from reaching Alistair; for example, when the Irish are terrible, I rarely feel any sympathy for the adverse affect that must have on Alistair. This is unfortunate, but I consider it a far bargain as long as it shields my affection for him from my hatred for his team.

But, the team Notre Dame fielded last Saturday was so inept, so incompetent as to have crossed over into the realm of buffoonery. In his third year as head coach, Charlie Weis has reduced the vile Fighting Irish to a winless laughingstock. (For those of you keeping score at home, regardless of what has transpired in the intervening year, in the much-maligned Lloyd Carr's third year as Michigan's head coach he lead the team to an undefeated season and a national championship.) I revel in even the slightest misfortune to befall Notre Dame, especially since Weis, for whom I have a special enmity, became head coach. But, this has gotten out of control. Gloriously out of control, but for the first time the vile Fighting Irish are so woebegone as to have inspired sympathy not for them, may they rot in their failure, but for my friend, who must be suffering mightily.

So, I really really really loved last Saturday's game, and I am overjoyed that the defensive scrubs were able to preserve the shutout, my joy was ever so slightly mitigated by my sympathy for Alistair's wretched plight. I guess now the poor guy will have to find solace in the loving arms of his lovely wife and cut-as-a-button son.... Hey, wait a second, he's got a wife and kid! He has more to fill his life than just college football! He'll be just fine! Awesome, the gloves can come off: bwa ha ha ha ha, Notre Dame sucks! They are the pits, the absolute worst! Bwa ha ha ha ha! Oh, their misery tastes like sweet ambrosia! I love it!

Of course, Notre Dame under Charlie Weis and Jimmy Clausen may be the worst I-A football team I've ever seen; so, I must admit that I am slightly worried about this weekend's contest against Joe "Methuselah" Paterno and his ferocious Nittany Lions of Penn State. Notre Dame beat themselves as much if not more than Michigan beat them. I was ecstatic at the Wolverines' triumph, but I still don't think anyone can accurately gauge this year's squad. Are we as bad as we must have looked against Appalachian State and Oregon? Are the boys as good as they looked against Notre Lame? I fear the former, but I am hopeful for the latter. Either way, for one day at least, Hail! Hail! To Michigan! The leaders and best!

Go Blue!

The Rebel Black Dot Song of the Day
Short Round, "Cleansing, Cut, Scrape" from Mailorder for the Masses (T.L.A.M.)