Before a toe touched the floor this morning, I was suffering from ‘Bama Brain. Between taking advantage of the snooze feature on my phone’s alarm and actually making myself awake, I contemplated how bad the two players who’d been sent home must be feeling this morning. I imagined them coming in after curfew laboring under the erroneous assumption that their lapse in judgement would be overlooked only to be told to pack their stuff quickly because a TWENTY-ONE HOUR BUS RIDE HOME AWAITED THEM.

This is why Notre Dame should be scared. Nick Saban does not play. He quit school because they had recess. I can assume there were apologies, promises to walk the straight and narrow or most likely, excuses for why they missed curfew. Obviously, those pleas fell on deaf ears. How would you like to be sitting at the house for reasons entirely of your own making, watching confetti rain down on your teammates as they French Kiss  the crystal ball? Two words: fetal position.

Speculation and expert analysis are worth diddly, but I find the the majority of talking heads suddenly concerned about Alabama's ‘experience’ because they can't be hungry anymore hysterical.  They want nothing more than Notre Dame to resume it’s place as the benchmark all other programs are measured by. No one wants those ‘backward hicks’ to have a lock on ‘dynasty’ and they sure as heck don’t want Nick Saban to embody the best football coach ever.

I love it. Please continue to feed the beasts all the motivation they need to river dance all over the Fighting Irish on that football field tonight because if the twelve hours straight of nothing but Notre Dame on NBC didn’t make the little leprechauns believe they’re invincible, then all this ridiculous chit chat should seal the deal.

Remember Miami? Handle business boys and Roll Tide.

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