In which the metaphor is extended

I can be accused of having many opinions on Notre Dame football. All of them equally passionate, fleeting, and vociferous. I slide in and out of them so quickly and completely, that there are times when even I can't explain my point of view because there are traces of past perspectives across the board, leaving me, in a sense, everywhere at once. Anyway, before I continue the genocide of commas set off by my blogging co-defendant, let me get to my argument of the breadth and depth of the fucked-up-ed-ness of the situation.

There is constant analysis and navelgazing of virtually every Notre Dame decision of the past 10 (30?) years, all of them centering around choice. Who had the power to choose? When did they have it? How did they come to their decision? I would like to step back from this exercise in futility, no one can ever really know what was on (or not on) the minds of the so-called "Powers That Be" so much as no one can ever really explain to me how decisions are really made at Notre Dame. The real question is what is the choice Jack Swarbrick had to make for Notre Dame?

At the end of it all, Jack Swarbrick had to choose between Giant Douche or a Turd Sandwich.



Regardless of your opinion of the breadth and depth of the available coaching pool, and such analysis has firmly become its own internet niche, the point is that there are precious few coaches that can improve the program beyond what Charlie Weis has built. What the program so sorely needed was a reconstruction from the ground up, and in these efforts no one can fault Charlie. 8 years of heartless coaching and sheer arrogance had rendered the program a smoldering pile of ashes in the freezing South Bend winter. The talent myth has been broken. The facilities myth is buried under 20 million dollars of weight rooms and trophy cases. Notre Dame is a destination for recruits as long as there is confidence in the program. Its really hard for Charlie to keep flashing those Super Bowl rings when my even my grandmother has to hear speculation about this Brian Kelly person on WGN.

So, on most tangible metrics, Charlie Weis is our guy. Of course, on-field performance and its related perks are still in neglect, but how different is that from anything else here in year 12 of the post Holtz era? I guess this is the real point driving the issue. Notre Dame has finally finally finally FINALLY gotten most of the pieces in place, but we've locked ourself in to a situation that can only be fully described as sub-optimal. Weis has not been able to show that he can improve upon raw offensive talent, and his fatal flaw of over tweaking to the point of Decided Schematic Failure is obvious. Even in his staff improvements, he has not proven that he can be an anything more than a glorified recruiter/QB coach.

But, with all of the evidence at hand, and rather large stakes, what decision was there to make? Most decisions would have cost Notre Dame a great degree of capital. In terms of money, there was the buyout. In terms of public image, the school was unprepared to do anything more than unleash the Keystone Cops on the coaching carousel. In terms of recruiting, a lot was at stake to maintain the momentum Weis has built the last 4 years. All of these costs, regardless of respective size and importance, factored in to the effective price of the decision, and despite our combined hopes and dreams for the program, none of them include an athletic director that fails to see the proper risk/reward. Chasing good money with bad money got Notre Dame into this mess so many years ago, and believing that doing the same thing over and over will produce a different result is the very definition of insanity.

Rogue Bigfoot Hunters Trap and Kill Leprechaun in Northern Indiana

SOUTH BEND - Hot off the heels of their recent capture of Bigfoot in northern Georgia, soldiers of fortune-cum-cryptozoologists Rick Dyer and Matt Whitton made good on their promise to hunt down and bring to justice a veritable who's who of mythical creatures ranging from Sasquatch to the Loch Ness Monster by bagging one of the world's most elusive and intriguing cryptoids, the leprechaun.

In a dramatic outdoor press conference outside of South Bend, IN, the infamous duo posed with their latest prey, stuffed quite ingloriously into a ramshackle freezer. The specimen, a diminutive, five-foot, five-inch bearded hominid with puffy red cheeks and a snappy green suit and cap, appeared quite convincing to the amateur and professional leprechaun enthusiasts in the crowd, although more skeptical cryptozoologists are awaiting further scientific testing on the remains before jumping to any conclusions.

"After thoroughly researching the mythology of the leprechaun and interviewing scores of eyewitnesses, we were able to sketch out a ten-mile range that we suspected comprised the leprechaun's habitat," Whitton remarked, clicking briskly through a PowerPoint presentation for the media on hand. "We noticed an abnormally large of sightings focused around the South Bend and Mishawaka area in Indiana, clustered mainly around an old, ivy-covered region nestled between two lakes that the locals call 'Notra Dayme'. The village folk warned us that it was a mysterious place full of strange religious intrigue full of great peril, but we persevered on into the uncharted areas and saw our stakeout through."

Whitton described spotting the bizarre, tiny magical humanoid creature in the very early hours of Saturday morning staggering out of a local drinking establishment, and the brief but harrowing firefight that ensued. In the end, magic or no magic, the pixie was no match for Whitton and Dyer's arsenal of modified assault rifles and body armor.

Noted cryptozoologist Loren Coleman, editor of Cryptomundo.com, responded with cautious hope about the veracity of the find. "While most contemporary experts on leprechauns felt that their habitat was limited to the hilly Irish countryside or, as some offshoot schools of thought have suggested, Mobile, Alabama, it's easy to see a migratory pattern that would place it in that region of Indiana."

Preliminary DNA tests on some samples from the corpse have been inconclusive, but further analysis will continue.

When asked what's next for the intrepid hunters, Dyer hinted that they are hot on the trail of a very bizarre half-human, half-orange cryptoid that has haunted the wilderness of upstate New York for nearly half a century. "We're closing in on him fast," he remarked, then added with a sly wink, "Don't be surprised if we're calling another press conference reaaaal soon."

Constructive Summer

The smell of fresh-cut grass, the mournful whine of police sirens racing after football players fleeing a bar brawl, and the fragrant aroma of mold being blasted out of a long-unused cooler combined with vomit from two-a-days. Football season is near, and there's nowhere to hide from it.

The House Rock Built has had a very constructive summer vacation from blogging. Needless to say, we were all in the need for a little bit of a breather after a soul-crushing year of pigskin in 2007, and The House was no exception. Between growing some mutton chops, recording some tunes, and blasting off to Hong Kong and Thailand for a few weeks to soul-search/feed tigers/father a child with a local/lose hundreds of dollars playing Sic-Bo, the batteries are just about fully recharged. We're locked and loaded for 2008, come hell or high water.

In addition to being back in business, The House Rock Built made some off-season deals that will, with any luck, increase the quality and quantity of content for you to gobble up. In a landmark deal, The House has acquired the services of The Kid from Fire Mark May, a hard-throwing righty whose rise from blogosphere neophyte to award-winning cult icon in a mere year of blogging captured the imagination of a nation. Needless to say, it wasn't cheap, as I had to ship Trev Alberts a carton of Newports, a conditional sixth round draft pick, and release the bodies of three of his recently-killed soldiers. As you'd expect, the exchange took place, like nearly all nefarious dealings do, on a runway of an abandoned airport in The Gambia.

The first known picture of The Kid.

The Kid will be blogging here under the moniker "irishoutsider", so you can probably expect the amount of zany, off-the-wall goofiness to roughly double, depending on work levels and alcohol intake. Cultivating hobbies and relationships are fine and dandy eight months out of the year, but once training camp comes, it's time to kick both to the curb, strap on your beer funnel helmet, and dive feet-first into the churning chumbucket that is the 2008 college football season. Gentlemen, start your engines.

-fightinamish

Pac 10 Official All But Admits Improper Use of Replay in Stanford Game

It's been a few days since the most blatantly awful replay review of all time, so I think it's time we take a look at what has shaken down in these days in the immediate aftermath of this travesty.

For one, we finally got a public statement from the head of Pac 10 Officiating, Dave Cutaia. In an e-mail he sent out in response to the criticism of the play, he is quoted as saying:

"The replay official felt he had a shot that showed the point of the ball hit the ground...

*First Lie.

...This is basically a judgment call on his part, as an on-field official might judge defensive pass interference.

*Second Lie.

So, let's look at the first part of the statement. The replay official found a shot... no, wait, scratch that... felt he found a shot that conclusively showed (whoops, he didn't use the word "conclusively") the point of the ball hitting the ground. Hey, that's not bad. It's an empirically-testable statement. Now obviously it wasn't any shot that we had available to us, the television-watching audience, because that one clearly did not meet the burden of proof. Ahhh, so it was a secret camera angle that wasn't available to the TV broadcast, right? They do have secret angles, don't they?

Q. What will be the source of the video for replays?
A. All reviewable video will come direct from the television production of the game.

(From the official replay policy)

Allright, no worries. Let's pretend you did have a secret reverse-angle shot that the television networks just didn't decide to put in their broadcast. It probably would have looked something like this shot taken by an on-field photographer:



Which even more conclusively shows that his hand is under the ball.

Moving swiftly along to lie number two...

This is basically a judgment call on his part, as an on-field official might judge defensive pass interference.

Now I'm just a simple caveman, but to me it sounds like Cutaia is admitting that the replay was improperly administered. Either that, or he doesn't know the rules of instant replay set down by the same conference that he is apparently in charge of officiating. You see, the second line of the aforementioned official document on instant replay clearly states:

Standard: There must be indisputable video evidence for an on-field officiating decision to be changed by the Instant Replay Official working from a private booth in the press box.

That underlining was not done by me for emphasis, that's exactly how it appears on the website. But, wait, there must be some wiggle room for a replay official's judgment call, right? I'll do a search of their rulebook for the word "judgment":



So anybody who has taken the time to read the first paragraph of the replay policy (a group which may or may not contain Cutaia) can sufficiently agree that replay is definitively not a "judgment call" and is, moreover, fundamentally opposite from judgment calls like defensive pass interference. Instead it requires, (everyone together now) indisputable video evidence, which Cutaia all but comes out and admits was not the standard of proof used in this specific reversal. The replay officials acted blatantly against their authority... it's black letter law.

Cutaia then declined to make public the names of the officials involved. Perhaps a smart move, what with all the crazies out there, but it still reeks of an institutional refusal to make anybody take accountability for what, in Cuataia's own words, was a clear-cut incorrect ruling. At any rate, it's these two guys. If anyone can track down a directory of Pac 10 officials with mug shots, it should be pretty easy to find out who these incompetent bozos are and keep track on whether or not they've been fired or reprimanded.

Happy Thanksgiving You Pukes!

Orson asked me to whip up something festive for the holidays, and I can't think of anything more festive than the coach cooking you a turducken to celebrate this joyous occasion.

It Seems To Me We Have a Crisis of Confidence

I'll be the first to admit it, there's nothing fun about heading into a road game where you're 17 point underdogs. Throw in the fact that we're breaking in a new quarterback behind a slap-happy offensive line and that the whole operation looked like a train wreck last week, and you've got the makings for a potentially bad weekend. But I don't want to hear any loser talk, Irish fans. What you need is a shot of confidence, and I'm just the man to deliver that for you. You see, I've applied my long tenure as an abusive drinker to craft the perfect cocktail for your gameday consumption that will put the smile back on your face and a steaming pile of confidence back in your heart. Feast your eyes, dear friends, on the Shot of Confidence.

Tastes like... glory.

That's right, NyQuil and Claussen pickle juice. If this doesn't put a spring in your step and the will of a tiger in your feeble heart, then, brother, there's no hope left for you. So hoist 'em up, Irish fans.

Rumors of the House Rock Built's Demise Have Been Greatly Exaggerated (Again)

Knowing how sensitive and caring my readershp is, I'm sure everyone out there has been placing bets on what horrible fate has become your beloved editor in the month or so that he has disappeared from the face of the earth. Naturally, I'm sure "Gored by Wild Boar" and "Knifed in Back Alley by Jilted Lover" hit the post as even-money favorites, but everyone who didn't have "Frozen in Carbonite by Debt Collectors" can go ahead and rip up your race tickets, and thanks for playing.

So rest easy, I'm still very much alive and starting to get mobilized for the upcoming football season. Aside from a few new yet-to-be-Anagramaticusized recruits and a non-surgery, not a whole lot of interesting stuff has happened under the golden dome in these dog days of summer. As a result, the House Rock Built has been shifting attentions toward baseball, binge drinking, and the bevy of comely young maidens that emerge in Chicago once miniskirt weather hits. Additionally, I've penned two articles for upcoming Maple Street publications, so there will be some of my quasi-drunken musings in Here Come the Irish 2007 and my laugh-a-minute preview of the 07 Irish in the Michigan annual, Hail to the Victors 2007. Those should become available sometime in the next month or so.

So anyway, the House will be off to sunny Arizona for the holiday weekend and, shortly thereafter, will begin regular(ish) posting, slowly building in momentum until the fever pitch of preseason pandemonium of August, so plan your web surfing accordingly (and tell your friends). So, that's what's up in the House Rock Built's world. What have you been doing to deal with football withdrawl?

Oh, and if you're aching for some hijinks, I farked up a few pictures for Orson this morning, which you can check out here. I was more than a little embarassed to learn that former NYPD Blue semi-hottie Kim Delaney is not the commissioner of the Big 10, but rather eponymous sound-alike Jim Delaney. I think I'm going to have to go back and edit a few old posts that probably sounded really, really, really ignorant. Mea Culpa.

Notre Dame Gets Yet Another Golic

Notre Dame added its first commitment of the class of 2008, locking up the eponymous son of former Irish star and current radio personality Mike Golic. I always say you can never have enough Golics, just ask the producers of Saved By The Bell: The College Years

Bob Golic, the Knute Rockne of the modern mullet.

Carroll and Huizenga Meet for Four Hours in Costa Rican Hot Tub

COSTA RICA - The rumors began flying yesterday when Miami Dolphins owner Wayne Huizenga was spotted at Pete Carroll's luxurious tropical bachelor pad in Costa Rica. According to the Associated Press, Carroll and Huizenga spent four hours in intense negotiations in one of Carroll's many hot tubs on his palatial oceanside manor.

"This was the one instance I've come in contact with that has all the elements I have talked about," Carroll said at a news conference on campus. "(Huizenga) has structured a program where the head coach has the entire say, from top to bottom."

When asked if any formal agreement was made on the trip, Carroll declined, citing that the talks had to be broken off at the four hour mark because both were "getting rather pruney".

We'll keep you posted as more develops.

Pre-Holiday Wrapup

I'm heading out to the airport in a few hours to brave the frozen tundra of Denver, which apparently is buried underneath nine feet of snow right now. Wish me luck. Last time there was a blizzard in Denver I had to slice open my cab driver and sleep in his entrails for warmth.

And I thought they smelled bad on the outside.

So in case you missed it:

The Irish landed Harrison Smith, a big, fast, white safety who has drawn comparisons to John Lynch, Tom Zbikowski, and a bigger, faster, more athletic, football-playing Eminem.


• I think it's a conflict of interest that Urban Meyer gets to sponsor a bowl game:
  
  
  
  
• I'll be out and about for the holiday season. I'm not strictly sure when I'll be able to post again, but I'll most likely be offline until the days leading up to the Sugar Bowl. Turn off the computer and have a mug of my family's secret recipe for egg nog (with lots of brandy and no eggs).

If You Don't Hate Pete Carroll, There is Something Seriously, Seriously, Seriously Wrong With You

God, I hate Pete Carroll. I hate his smug, dopey face. I hate his leg-humping chihuahua enthusiasm, I hate the way he jumps up and down like a ten year old on a Mountain Dew bender during the games. But mostly, I just hate Pete Carroll. There's some sort of intangible mojo, some sort of je ne sais quoi about him that fires up a deep and primitive hatred and causes an ordinarly normal and peace-loving individual to became engorged with an overpowering urge to rip the heads off of small furry mammals and push helpless children and infirm, elderly people into a meat freezer while gorging myself on the blood of my enemies.

So keep in mind that I already felt that way before I saw... this. This... this... this... monstrosity. This brutal violation of all things good and merciful in the world. This soulless raping of the very conventions of decency in humanity. I got about halfway through it before I clawed my eyeballs out with quivvering and unquenchably violent fingernails. It's so, so, so awful, and it's such an embodiment of everything that is awful about Pete Carroll. If you watch this flash intro to his website in its entirity and still do not hate Pete Carroll, then you are a depraved husk of a human being who does not belong in society.

Just for reference:

• This is Pete Carroll's personal website. This is not a website made by somebody who hates Pete Carroll and wants to make him look like an idiot, although it's very easy to confuse it as one.
• That flash intro is the splashscreen on his site. Pete is under the assumption you will watch this... this... this... thing in its entirity before you move onto the content of his website.
• I am embedding it in this post, and there's no control on it to keep it from autoplaying. This means that every time you load up the House Rock Built, you will be immediately greeted by this music and that shit-eating grin from now until gameday. Why am I doing this? To get the hate flowing. Don't immediately mute it. Spend a few seconds listening to it and feeling the hatred boil inside of you. That hate will give you strength. Feel it flow through your body.
• Let's beat the Trojans this Saturday and wipe that galling grin off of the Poodle's face. As soon as humanly possible.

UPDATE: Okay, so it's not embedded anymore. That song is really annoying.

Stay Safe in Columbus, Everyone

You miss Fido? Trust an expert with a world-class education to make him a piece of furniture.

Supposedly, there's a Game of the Century of some sorts in Ohio this weekend. Personally, I don't understand why there's so much hoopla around a battle for dead last in the AFC Central, but hey... go Browns. Anyway, if that's not your cup of tea, you can always check out the Michigan-Ohio State game. However, you have to be careful. Apparently, it's not too safe in Columbus, at least according to this e-mail I got from the Michigan alumni association.

Amazing, you take a few correspondence classes on taxidermy and, voila!, Michigan diploma and a lifetime of pestering e-mails. This one, however, was a bit more informative than the standard "Tractor Pull Networking Event" and "Elk Chili Cook-Off" e-mails I get, as it showed deep concern for my personal safety. I'm sure you've probably read part one as it has circulated the internet, but the second half of the e-mail really included the juicy details.

So here you go... reprinted for your enjoyment, the Michigan Alumni Association's pre-game warning for visiting fans (part deux):

Dear Respected Alumnus:

We are sure that you are excited about this Saturday's football game versus Ohio State, and the possibility of capturing the Big Ten conference title and playing for the national championship.

We know that it can be uncomfortable being in an opposing team's environment, especially when the stakes are so high. We would like to offer a few more suggestions in order to help you stay safe and have a positive experience this weekend:

• Don't venture too deep into the backwoods of Columbus. While the immediate area around Ohio Stadium offers a stunning array of pregame fun for the whole family, the safety dramatically decreases as you extend past a certain radius from the stadium. Please consult this attached map with the family fun zones clearly labeled:

• Don't Wear Clothing that Clearly Indicates You are from Michigan. While it's fine to support your team by wearing their colors, it is advisable to wear them underneath a protective layer of Columubus camouflage until you are safely within the stadium. Some outerwear suggestions:

	Denim Cutoff Shirt. We will have extras at the tailgater that we will loan out for free with a student ID.
	Tuxedo T-Shirt. Perfect for those fancier occasions, you'll have no problem slipping under the radar with one of these babies.
	Nuts. Nuts, and lots of them. Don't ask why, just make sure you've got a healthy set of nuts on your abdomen if you value your life at all.

Remember, wearing your auto mechanic jumpsuit, your faded XXL Grand Funk Railroad World Tour 1972 t-shirt, or anything soaked in deer piss will be a certain way to draw unwanted attention and violence from moonshine-filled Columbians.

If Verbally Harassed by Opposing Fans, Be Sure to Represent the University of Michigan Well. Remember, you went to a internationally-renowned top-tier university right up there if not a league above the Ivy League. Ergo, it's unbecoming to fire back with a pedestrian "Fuck Ohio State", as this is what mouth-breathing heathens from land-grant four-year babysitting facilities do. Turn it into an opportunity to retort with a calm yet stern reminding of your family's wealth, the unrelatedness of your birth parents, and perhaps a sinewy and artfully-constructed bit of witticism that makes references to Kafka, Voltaire, or whichever post-Enlightenment scholar you wrote your thesis on. Remember, whatever happens on the field, the hallmark of your Michigan education is a lifetime of unspoken-yet-very-important-to-reiterate-as-much-as-possible superiority in all things aesthetic.

Go right for the jugular, my good friend! And do it with as much aplomb as possible.

We look forward to a tremendous game on Saturday. Let's help the Wolverines win with spirit and class.

Go Blue!

Sue Eklund, Associate Vice President and Dean of Students
Steve Grafton, President, Alumni Association
Nicole Stallings, MSA President

Heading to the Blogger's Summit in Hollowed-out Volcano

An evil cabal of college football bloggers are convening in Chicago tonight for an important meeting. Naturally, this will be held in a fortress in a hollowed-out volcano. Representatives from EDSBS, Blue-Gray Sky, and Fire Mark May will be on hand for this summit. Much of the discussion will be about who among you will live or die. Very important stuff.

Lucky us, there's only one hollowed out volcano in Bucktown and the waiting list is like, months long.