There's blind support, there's unhealthy fanaticism, and then there's Lou Holtz.
There are quarterbacks that can't hang it up, there are long-time execs whose industries have passed them by, and then there's Lou Holtz.
There's John Daly, there's Richard Simmons, and then there's Lou Holtz.
Everyone knows that ole' Lou loves Notre Dame. ESPN knew it when it hired him. Until this week, however, it hadn't affected his ability to be a sane human being.
But now Lou Holtz is looking straight into the camera and declaring that Notre Dame has the best chance of winning the BCS National Championship.
Yes, that Notre Dame. Yes, this season.
It's now quite apparent that Lou Holtz has reached a new level of absurdity, one that even ESPN itself, along with its stable of clueless former athletes posing as commentators, could never have fathomed prior to this week.
In the same sequence, Kirk Herbstreit politely chuckled as he said to Lou, "I think you're on an island with that one."
Check that. Lou is on his own planet - a green planet where the sun shines gold and the rain falls navy blue; where every girl is a virgin and every neighborhood is united by its local pastor, Paul; and where dutiful citizens hitch rides on shamrock-shaped hovercrafts driven by leprechauns, guided at night not by streetlamps but by the glimmering light of Touchdown Jesus.
Lou, buddy, this is your job. You get paid to dole out your expert opinion. Heck, even if it's not expert, it's at least supposed to be educated. You aren't speaking to your Irish football team anymore.
I'm sure there won't be much written about this because Holtz has long been viewed less as a journalist and more as a source of entertainment, but think about it: If Holtz was anyone other than himself, wouldn't he be fired?
Truly. Who else could honestly saying that he's picking Notre Dame to win the championship, keep a straight face, slowly shift his gaze to the guy on his left to see what his pick is, and still have a job at ESPN the next day?
ESPN Ombudsman, where you at?
I mean, if I were Herbstreit, or Mark May, or Rece Davis, I'd wonder why I go to work every day. It's quite apparent that journalistic credibility means very little when it comes to TV ratings.
Just throw on a ridiculous hat and scream abysmal versions of college fight songs.
Grab a chalkboard and a jersey and make lovably awful halftime speeches.
Son, you were made for ESPN.