Charlie Weis and the Five Year Funk

Jeff Newton:

From 1918 to 1930, Knute Rockne built Notre Dame football into a full blown American institution. In his thirteen years as the architect behind the Golden Dome empire, Rockne guided the Fighting Irish to five undefeated seasons and six national championships. In those thirteen years, the gladiators of South Bend, Indiana evolved into the uncontested darlings of the college ranks. The program’s continued success spawned Touchdown Jesus, Rudy, striped end zones, dancing red bearded Leprechaun mascots, and once in a generation recruits like Montana, Ismail and Bettis. They have an unprecedented network TV contract with NBC and as an Independent program, they answer to no one. Simply put, Notre Dame is an entity unto itself, free to roam as they please with unprecedented resources at their disposal. For all their storied accolades, Rockne’s legendary “Win One For The Gipper” speech stands alone as the school’s most recognized moment.

As his team trailed at halftime against Navy in 1928, the coach felt it necessary to reveal the legacy of George Gipp. Gipp, a former Notre Dame standout, had grown terminally ill. Allegedly, he asked Rockne to promise that, when the team faced a tough situation, Knute would ask his players to win one for their fallen alumnus. The speech drew its intended effect, Notre Dame cruised to a second half comeback victory, and the Gipper legend steadily grew as a pantheon pep talk. Knute’s program defining speech quietly begins, “Well boys…I haven’t a thing to say.” Last Saturday night, while he walked off the field for the last time as Notre Dame’s head football coach, neither did Charlie Weis.

Weis’ postgame body language, much like the school’s sustained losing streaks, had become all too familiar for boosters, students, alumni, fans and anyone who cared to associate with the once untouchable powerhouse. The athletic department’s official announcement, delivered on Monday, amounted to the least suspenseful press conference in the history of collegiate athletics. To say that Weis ended his term as a dead man walking would be too optimistic. During his dreadful final weeks at Notre Dame, the school board members probably couldn’t look him in the eye. As the losses mounted and the early promise fueled by a 4-1 start quickly evaporated, Weis swiftly emerged as public enemy number one in the state of Indiana. The primetime performances, fleeting success, near misses and blatant embarrassments ultimately shaped his rocky tour of duty in South Bend.

Weis arrived at Notre Dame with the type of fanfare often reserved for proven legends. He certainly brought a hefty reputation. The offensive mastermind, who guided Tom Brady and New England’s aerial attack during three championship seasons, seemed like the right man at the right time. Weis’ influence, his supporters believed, would produce annual BCS trips, twelve win seasons, multiple Heisman trophy winners and seven hundred clips of Lou Holtz leaping out of his seat on the College GameDay set. Notre Dame could reclaim their post on the college football Mount Rushmore, wedged between USC, Ohio State and Michigan. The expectations reached Sears Tower heights but hey, what else would you expect from a riled up fan base desperate for a return to prominence?

He certainly had the players. Equipped with top dog talent like Brady Quinn, Jeff Samardjiza, Tom Zbikowski, Golden Tate and Darius Walker, Weis’ teams had Goliath sized potential. The onslaught of five star freshmen, Parade All Americans and top ranked recruiting classes only fueled the hype. And that was before Notre Dame landed Jimmy Clausen. Clausen, the blonde haired pocket passer from nearby Westlake Village, was a rock star if there ever was one in Friday night football. In the last decade, only Lebron James and maybe Michelle Wie earned more ink from national publications eager to profile the next big thing coming out of high school. Scouts fought for him like NFL players fight for a loose ball in the pile up. Sports Illustrated ran a piece on him when he was 16. For all the big names Charlie Weis landed, Jimmy Clausen’s signed letter of intent sent a clear message from Pete Carroll’s office in California to Urban Meyer’s backyard in Florida. Notre Dame Football was back, and they meant business.

Clausen’s three year development, from overwhelmed kid to All-American leader, illustrates Weis’ shortcomings as a coach. The offensive wiz placed all his eggs in the wunderkind’s basket and crossed his fingers that the young man would come through. Clausen lived up to his end of the bargain, yet the program still waded in mediocrity. Jimmy improved while the program remained stuck in neutral. Heisman trophy contenders usually end up in January Bowl games. Clausen might earn MVP honors at the Meineke Bowl. He’ll probably go top 5 in next year’s draft. A top 5 draft pick from NOTRE DAME will finish his career with a sub .500 record as a starter. That’s unacceptable, plain and simple. The Stanford game provided just a small microcosm of the Clausen upswing/ Weis letdown patented formula.

In Palo Alto, the junior looked like everything we expected him to be: poised, accurate, sharp, successful. He tossed five touchdowns in a nationally televised performance that likely propelled him into the multimillionaires club come draft day. He may have clinched some second rate national player of the year awards. In short, Jimmy Clausen made his coach proud. And Notre Dame still lost. What’s worse, the Irish’s depleted defense allowed Toby Gerhart, another leading player of the year candidate, to run wild in a 205 yard, 4 touchdown night that will leave a huge impression on voters. Jimmy had all the answers while Charlie hopelessly fought off all the problems.

In the awkward final month, as the team suffered once unfathomable home losses to Navy and UCONN, his dim situation became perfectly clear, Weis became a tragic figure. The AD wouldn’t comment on his coach’s future status with the school. The end result seemed obvious; Charlie might as well have paced the sidelines with the word “FIRED” prominently tattooed, in all caps, across his forehead. To his credit, the disappointing leader forged ahead and when he shed a tear after the team’s last home game, it seemed hard to not feel at least a little sorry for the guy. Weis, despite the previously mentioned postgame body language, always carried himself with class and a touch of humor during weekly press conferences. Now, the defeated looks fully displayed a man who was public enemy number one in his own mind.

Twenty years from now, when four elderly Notre Dame diehards share Charlie Weis memories over a few beers, what fond memories can they conjure up? They could talk about the ’05 USC game, where clock confusion caused players and fans to prematurely celebrate an all time upset over the defending national champs. After one long review and one infamous shove by Reggie Bush, Weis once again lumbered toward the lockeroom with his eyes looking down at the grass. They could clank glasses over the consecutive BCS bids Notre Dame received in ’05 and ’06, where the team was blown out by Ohio State and LSU, respectively. He reached those games with Tyrone Willingham’s recruits. They could swap stories about Clausen’s ’09 season, where the golden boy reached his potential and passed his way into the national spotlight. But then they’d probably get surly, thinking about the puzzling losses to the Naval Academy, UCONN and a lowly 3-8 Syracuse team during that five year stretch. They’d raise their voices once the team’s 15-20 regular season stretch from ’07 to ’09 entered the conversation. And they’d likely use the last round to toast Charlie Weis, the big man with the gentle heart who did little to improve a proud program.