No Luck For The Irish


A brilliant season came to a lackluster finish.

A year of escaping defeat and willing to win against any opponent was left behind in the golden Fall of 2012.

The Tide rolled over Notre Dame, 42-14.

Almost as if what happened during the season didn't matter, Alabama handled Notre Dame in a way we would've predicted before the season started. Alabama controlled the line of scrimmage, the pocket around Everett Golson, and every green part of the field. The stat sheet didn't lie either. Alabama dominated in rushing yards, passing yards, takeaways, and conversions on all downs. 

It all started when Notre Dame deferred the coin toss. Alabama took the field, ran the ball through the gaps, and kept the Irish' vaunted Defensive Line on their heels. With the boulder and pebble combo of Lacy and Yeldon, Alabama chipped away at the wall Notre Dame tried to uphold. Notre Dame couldn't simply load the box either, because Amari Cooper couldn't be left isolated in coverage.

They may have not received the benefit of a couple subjective calls in the First Quarter, but if Touchdown Jesus hadn't escorted a ball outside the upright against Pittsburgh, they wouldn't have been in the position to opine. 

Although it was a humiliating rout, Notre Dame can look to a silver lining. They currently have the number one recruiting class for 2013... and this will help for those times when the 'Luck Of The Irish' just won't be enough.

Sorry dudes, this blog post was undeniably short. So let me make it up to you. I'll give you something that you want in a medium that I'm proficient. Let's face it, I'm good at writing poems, and most of you love cats (the numbers don't lie). And since I'm all out of writing prompts involving Billy Ray Cyrus, this is the best compromise I can think of. Another in-line online server jamming html bulkhead of cat data:

This Week In Dude Presents:


Meow, meow, meow, meow
This is the cadence of the cat
Calling you from slumber
"Where is that tuna can at?"

There's Dr. Whiskers, and Professor Plum
But where is Will Feral?
He's usually up by now
Mewing to the can opener his jolly carol

Oh, there he is!
Milk all over his whiskers
He must've been getting into mischief
Given the milk all over his whiskers

My three favorite companions
Are now lapping tuna at my feet
Making diminutive digestive noises
As they delight in their morning feast