Having been on the receiving end of a close encounter with a locomotive, no kidding, it pains me to see a train wreck of any kind.
And what the Notre Dame hoop team is currently experiencing rates as the mother of all train wrecks. This team has gone completely off the rails. And what remains is quite unsightly. In fact, it's downright ghastly. A once promising season is now smoldering in ruins.
Normally, train wrecks unfold very quickly, not taking more than a few harrowing seconds. But Notre Dame's crackup is unique in that it's been spread out over a month's time. It's been a long, demoralizing and destructive ride. What's even worse and almost impossible to believe, the agony may continue. Further damage is quite possible.
For the Irish, this was supposed to be a Charles Dickens type of year. You know, full of great expectations. One of high hopes and notable achievements. Instead, it's as if Scrooge were running the program and had thrown the switch into reverse. Bah, humbug on a memorable season boys.
The Domers are headed straight towards oblivion with no brakeman, player or coach, to slow them down.
How bad is it? Try this on for size, seven consecutive losses, a disgraceful 12 and 10 overall record and a shameful 13th place in the Big East standings. You couldn't do much worse if you were trying to do so.
I was fortunate, I survived my run-in with the Iron Horse. Oh sure, I paid a price. Extensive plastic surgery, facial lacerations, chipped teeth, badly broken nose and severely bruised chest and ribs that made me feel as if I'd been sacked repeatedly by Lawrence Taylor.
But after a modest five-day hospital stay, I got sprung. And no worse for wear according to some of my friends, who said that after my surgeon got done cutting and snipping, my mug actually looked better than before. Ouch and double ouch!
But while I emerged relatively unscathed, it's doubtful the Irish will be so lucky. With their NCAA tournament dreams all but extinguished, they might be hard pressed to even qualify for that most unsatisfying of all consolation prizes, the NIT. And I thought I was hurting.
It's no mystery why this team has jumped the tracks. The reasons are all too apparent. But what is surprising is the number of flaws and deficiencies that dog this squad. The Domers have sprung leaks everywhere. And Mike Brey, who'll be taken to task in an upcoming column, doesn't have nearly enough thumbs and fingers to plug the holes. The lifeblood of ND's season has all but been drained.
ND's most acute problem is that they simply can't stop anyone. France offered more resistance against Germany than do the Irish at the defensive end. Reputed to be sharp young men, the Irish sure defend like a bunch of dunces.
Their defensive sins are both egregious and plentiful. Here's just a sampling of them; the Irish don't body up on the opposition, they're slow to move their feet, too often they fall for head fakes, boxing out seems an anathema to them, they're at a loss as to how to take away the 3-point shot, allowing wide-open looks has become their calling card and countless shots go uncontested.
Would it be too much to ask if every once and a while someone in an Irish uniform could man up a bit and get a hand in an opponent's face?
The breakdown on defense has been widespread and it's been complete. It's probably way too late now but long ago Brey should have focused much of his time on tightening up the "D". If that meant the offense, which has been on vacation anyway, suffered some, then so be it. Very few great seasons are built primarily on putting the ball in the hole. It's being stingy on the defensive side that consistently gets you to the pay window.
But what has aggravated and compounded the Domers' deplorable defense is what was thought to be their strength, their ace-in-the-hole, has left them. ND has, in short order, gone from a club of able marksmen to the gang that can't shoot straight. Their aim has all but deserted them and because of that, the Domers' house of cards has come crashing down.
Strategically, Brey and his charges have badly miscalculated. They've put an absurd reliance on shooting threes and that has come back to bite them in the butt. When shots from beyond the arc aren't falling, then school's all but out for the Irish. Worse yet, ND continually settles for and forces attempts from downtown because they've neglected to develop an intermediate game from 8 to 15-feet.
With no options from mid-range, the Irish offense is limited to either Luke Harangody from in close or the now unreliable 3-pt. bombing from outside. That's proven to be a recipe for disaster.
As the Irish are personally discovering, no team can possibly thrive with a defense that puts up little fight and an offense that, because of its narrow-minded approach, is so susceptible to crazy fluctuations.
And as if that's not bad enough, there are other shortcomings that continue to undermine the Irish. Because Brey basically only goes seven deep, there's no depth to speak of and as such, you've got frontline players who are most likely spent, gassed and worn out.
Moreover, aside from the gutsy Kyle McAlarney, who himself has suffered through a couple of prolonged slumps, the senior class has been a major disappointment. Much was expected from vets Ryan Ayers, Zach Hillesland and Luke Zellers. But for the most part, they've been missing in action and completely disappeared when the season was at its tipping point. Needless to say, this underwhelming senior class won't be remembered very fondly.
As this deflating year winds down, the Irish seem to be flying in the face of a law of nature. Instead of improving as time goes on, this team is actually regressing and getting worse. Which makes sense on one level, I suppose, since everything involving this squad is headed backwards.
This writer had the chance to take in what would become the latest ND debacle against UCLA at historic Pauley Pavilion this past Saturday. After brief contemplation, I opted to forego the opportunity. Instead, I remained in the comfort of my home and took in the proceedings on TV.
Boy, did I ever make the right decision!
You see, having personally tangled with a locomotive, I now prefer to watch crashes, if I must, from afar. And when I saw the Bruins thoroughly run over and abuse the Irish on Wooden Court, I was mighty glad I was nowhere near.
After all, watching train wrecks makes me wince.