Charlie Weis is a man with a problem. He sees it every time he watches film on his Fighting Irish. He wrestles with it in every nightmare that attacks him at night. It follows him on those long, lonely drives he takes in his Escalade to “get away from it all”. It never leaves his side. The problem is one number accompanied with one vision. The number is 3.3. The vision is his halfback getting pounded into the ground like a railroad spike before he even gets a full grip on the football.
Because for all his offensive prowess, Charlie Weis has never got his running game going. Last year it averaged only 3.3 yards a carry, and it has never averaged 4.0. Championship teams average over 4.5, or roughly a first down for every two touches. Hmm…run the ball-win football games. Notre Dame has games where they don’t even try to run, they just put it all on Clausen’s arm. Notre Dame has games where it seems like their running backs are outfitted with GPS receivers, becoming easy targets for “linebacker bombs”.
Weis hasn’t been able to fix it. For the past 4 years he wouldn’t even admit there was a problem, saying things like short passes were basically the same as runs, or that they wouldn’t try to run all day against 8 or 9 in the box.
Well, now he’s admitting there might be a problem. He has reached out for a helping hand. He knows that the Irish must be more balanced, and the running game must be more of a threat. Notre Dame must play more physical. He has bestowed the title of “run game coordinator” to offensive line coach Frank Verducci. He will be working side by side with Weis, figuring what type of runs to use, and how to integrate in into the overall offensive scheme.
The team must be able to run (and run well), or it will never climb the Everest that is the college football season. Weis knows this,and has reached his breaking point trying to figure out how to run the ball. In the end, there was only one choice. He broke down and did what we all do when we hit rock-bottom.
Say it with me, “Boasting has benefit.” (Say it one more time.) We all need attention, and boasting can bring you the type of attention that nothing else can. Figureheads such as college football coaches know this well. Ask Steve Spurrier. Gator Fans (and Vol fans) 50 years from now will remember his “You can’t spell Citrus (Bowl) without U-T” remark. Ask Charlie Weis. Anytime his offense looks subpar, he will be reminded of his “decided schematic advantage” braggings. People don’t forget boasts like this, and can’t help but become interested in the drama that is sure to follow.
A few days ago, I mentioned that Tennessee coach Lane Kiffin’s comments (and comments from coaches like him) will add to the fun of Saturdays. Claims like his will unite fan bases against each other, and add to the spectacle that the sport already is. Sports Illustrated’s Andy Staples agrees, boasting is a great way to draw attention. From Staples:
“The more I thought about Kiffin’s performance Thursday, the more it reminded me of watching professional wrestling as a kid. To hype a big pay-per-view match, the combatants would grab the mike each broadcast and boast at one another. The more outrageous their statements, the more likely I was to try to watch the match through the scrambled signal, because my mom wasn’t about to let me spend $19.95 to watch wrasslin’. In 30 seconds Thursday, Kiffin did what no recruiting class ever could. He inserted Tennessee into the national conversation. What was the risk? No one really expects the Volunteers, who went 5-7 last season, to win at Florida, which returns most of a national championship team. If they lose by 60, they weren’t supposed to win anyway. If they play the Gators close or upset them, Kiffin looks like a wunderkind. And so what if he got reprimanded by the SEC? The Vols don’t lose anything tangible as a punishment.”
Sports is entertainment, and needs figures to root for and root against. Figures to love or hate. Figures that will triumph in glory, or be burnt to ashes.
Let them make the boasts. It can be fun. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy watching whether the boaster jumps the 50 cars lined up, or whether he lands (sans bike) headfirst on the concrete, his bike explodes, and its front tire rolls right in front of you as you sip your Miller Lite. But, you will watch.
A Snot-Knocker is a hit laid upon a hittee with such viciousness that the victim(’s):
1.) suffers whiplash from their neck suddenly moving backward 180mph 2.) forgets where he is for at least 3 seconds 3.) helmet has been rearranged, and his facemask now protects the back of his head) 4.) snot that had been lining his nose is suddenly unleashed upon the football field
It is the type of hit that can only be achieved when the hitter has a combination of athleticism, body mass, and speed that would make Superman seem like a little girl. Basically, the combination of gifts that Notre Dame defenders have lacked for years. Andy Katzenmoyer (Buckeye stud in the mid to late ’90s) was king of the Snot-Knockers. He buried ball carriers 6 feet under with every hit. Have you seen a front 7 player for the Irish that could do that in recent memory?
No, there hasn’t been an Irish player that could make his presence felt like that, but that may not be true for much longer. The Irish have some young players that could fit the bill. Steven Filer. Darius Fleming. Anthony McDonald. Manti Te’o. Zeke Motta. All are big and athletic. All are touted.
They can make the Irish defense faster. They can hunt down running backs trying to turn the corner, or toss a fullback out of the way like a rag doll to make a tackle at the line of scrimmage. They can catch that receiver on a crossing route and earn the hit that every defender covets: