Since our favorite rumored coach was back in the news, this is for all you Irish fans who are still collecting newspaper clippings of Urban Meyer and hanging them around your bathroom mirror, right above the votive candles. It is time for all of you living the Urban lifestyle to close the scrap book and place it gently in a box in the attic. You can even play your Boyz II Men End of the Road cassingle, shed a single tear and have a moment. Go ahead. We'll wait.
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Good. You have to understand what Urban Meyer is to Notre Dame in order to let go. He's the crazy hot chick. You must be thinking, "what's wrong with a crazy hot chick?!" Beg your pardon. Let's rephrase. He is the hot chick that is crazy, not crazy hot. What are we talking about? His health problems that recently came up? His track record of "truth-stretching" when talking about his future career plans? The fact that his depth chart often has to account for who is incarcerated? Yes. All of it. Just as the crazy hot chick has issues and baggage, so does Meyer.
But what about the championships? The winning percentage? The Heisman? Well, we did say he was the hot chick. He is swimming in success, sure. But perhaps the more appropriate term is that he is treading water in success. You can't just look at the titles without seeing that Meyer had to be the frantic guy behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz, turning all the dials at once to make it work. Yes, the crazy chick is awesome in bed. But you forgot the part where you wake up to find your wallet gone, your TV blaring the Spanish channel and the Star of David spray-painted on your dog.
Notre Dame has suffered through 20 years of bad relationships. After dating the inconsistent Bob Davie and Ty Willingham, Meyer was there and wasn't as crazy at the time. But he was on his way. Still, it may have worked back then. Notre Dame met him in a smoky bar, drinks flowed, one thing led to another and all of a sudden the were in the backseat of a Caddy with the windows fogged up. But it stopped. Maybe because Meyer had to go. Maybe because Notre Dame remembered it was just a good little Catholic girl and this was a little too high on the "acting out against daddy" scale. For whatever reason, Notre Dame stayed in their comfort zone with Weis, but always watched Meyer from afar, always wondered what if.
Seeing Meyer out and about, looking hot as ever and winning championships didn't help the unresolved desire, we all know that. And Notre Dame was clearly not going anywhere with Weis and every day was getting more and more awkward and the breakup was looming. But Meyer would not have solved those problems. Notre Dame was coming off 20 years of heartache. Only a good solid match would fix it. Someone to grow old and happy with. Someone with a good background and family. Fun, intelligent and, well...normal. Maybe Brian Kelly didn't have the initial pop factor of Meyer or Stoops. But he also didn't bring the baggage. Meyer represented instant fun and passion, maybe championships. But Notre Dame wanted love, stability, and family to go along with it. Notre Dame simply couldn't handle someone living that close to the edge, no matter what spoils it brought. Notre Dame is about the Gipper and gameday Mass and Touchdown Jesus. Not arriving in fatigues, the 7th Floor Crew and SUVs. You can't forget who are the Catholics and who are the convicts.
It hurts to let go of a coach who had obvious ties and interest in the program, and all the accolades you could dream of. But Notre Dame hiring Urban Meyer now or ever will be like trying to marry the crazy hot chick. Maybe you can tame her for awhile. She may even clean up well, be nice when you meet the family, and tone down the Goth makeup. But inside that girl, a wild streak lurks. Five years down the road, you have kids and a mortgage and a normal happy life and that streak comes out. You thought you had hear tamed. You thought she changed. Then you come home, you can't find your dog and the smell of spray paint is in the air.
Be happy with Brian Kelly. Good things will come, even if you have to grow together toward them. Grab those Urban Meyer dog-tags and throw them into the sea. You gotta let him go.
