I've not hidden the fact I grew up in an Irish family. As a kid, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion you cheered for Notre Dame and if you didn't, well, you better not let grandma know or she'd stare you down with the darkest Irish eyes imaginable (yeah, those suckers weren't smiling).
"Ah, screw it!" is something I heard a lot from my gramps as he watched the Irish mostly trip all over themselves throughout parts of the 90s (except screw was replaced with a much more vulgar word). So, it's no wonder that I am facing an internal crisis of sorts with tonight's game.
It's not that I don't like Notre Dame. I do. It's not that I want them to lose. I don't. It's just that I have been turned off a great deal by the constant love they received when they didn't deserve it. Now that they do deserve it, now that they're actually good, I find myself having a difficult time reconciling my past feelings with the present reality.
Young Sean, the one who constantly wore a white Irish hat with the fightin' leprechaun on it, would be all over this game ... you know, Irish pride! Grandma's love! Win one for the Catholics! That type of crap. But older Sean is kind of at an impasse. I don't want them to lose ... but it's not like I really care if they win.
I'm guessing I am not the only person who feels this way.
Too bad they don't have ties anymore ... right?
Anyway ... Go Iris...ah, team?