Sorry, Domers, but it's time to run the numbers. While giving up its most points at home since 1960 in a 47-21 beatdown administered by Michigan last Saturday, Notre Dame netted all of four yards rushing and was penalized 11 times for 84 yards. Quarterback Brady Quinn's four turnovers -- three interceptions and a fumble -- resulted in 17 Wolverines points as the Irish plunged from No. 2 in the AP poll to No. 12.
But on a day practically groaning under the weight of all its great games, the most telling figures may have been these: 5'7", 115 pounds. That is the height and weight of Heather Vogt, a senior clarinetist in the Michigan marching band. Vogt, a movement science major from Mason City, Mich., took the brunt of the collision with Mario Manningham after the Wolverines wideout sailed through the end zone, having snagged his third touchdown pass of the first half. "He pretty much knocked the wind out of me," reported the resilient Vogt, who made a speedy recovery and missed not a single rendition of The Victors.
Manningham returned to the sideline holding his left wrist, bruised, apparently, when he banged it against a band member's instrument. While the sensational sophomore missed only a series or two -- he finished the game with four receptions for 137 yards and those three scores -- the conclusion is inescapable: Vogt and her bandmates had more success slowing him down than did Notre Dame's secondary.
After seeing his team get torched for 342 passing yards by Ohio State in the Fiesta Bowl last January, Fighting Irish coach Charlie Weis knew he had to get his defense to play faster. Schemes were simplified so that besieged defensive backs could react rather than think. Blue-chippers were imported: Darrin Walls and Raeshon McNeil, touted as two of the nation's top cover corners, played their way onto the two-deep.
Neither was on the field for the heroics of Manningham, whose middle name, befitting a receiver with such soft hands, is Cashmere. Manningham's big day had been forecast by the eerily confident Mike Hart, the junior running back who rushed for 124 yards on 31 carries. "Those safeties can be real nosy," he said of Notre Dame's Tom Zbikowski and Chinedum Ndukwe. Seeing them "nose their way up into the box" during film study, Hart said, "I knew we'd be taking some shots."
It was Hart who'd spent the week asking his teammates in Ann Arbor, "Do you feel it? Do you feel what I'm feeling?" Standing outside the visitors' dressing room in the House that Rockne Built, where the Wolverines had not won since 1994 and where his coach, Lloyd Carr, had never won, Hart elaborated on that feeling: "We knew we were gonna come down here and win this game. We knew." How did they know? "Last year they were hunting us," he explained. "This year we were hunting them."
A year ago the Irish could sneak up on people. No más. On Saturday it was the Wolverines' turn to be the underdog -- their reward for underachieving so epically last season. With all-world wideout Braylon Edwards gone to the NFL and with Hart as well as every member of the offensive line missing significant time due to injuries, quarterback Chad Henne struggled to recapture the magic of his freshman season, when the Wolverines had shared the Big Ten title. While his statistics were similar, the results -- a 7-5 season -- were not.
Henne took major heat from Michigan fans, a tribe not known for its patience. The only Wolverine who took more abuse was Carr, long a target for posters named sickofcarr and firelloydyesterday on such websites as sackcarr.com and firelloydcarr.us. Even Victor Abiamiri, Notre Dame's senior defensive end, got into the act at Friday's pep rally. After claiming the Wolverines had spent the week talking about how Carr was "going to outscheme our coach," Abiamiri concluded, "the last time I checked, you can't spell Lloyd without two l's." (Michigan's players had made no such claims, but then, stretching the truth at pep rallies, the better to inflame the home crowd, is expected and encouraged.)
Carr-bashers will grant you that Lloyd, now in his 12th season at Michigan, has won 105 games -- including a share of the 1997 national championship -- against just 34 losses. But they can't get past his sins: He is overly predictable, plays not to lose and has but a single victory in his last five games against Ohio State.
Even as Michigan opened this season with two victories, the critics kept up their chorus. The team's aerial attack in those wins, over toothless Vanderbilt and Central Michigan, bordered on popgun. Henne threw for 135 yards against the Commodores and a career-low 113 against the Chippewas.
As it turned out, the absence of a vertical passing attack was by design. Why show the Irish anything if they didn't need to? Said Hart, in defense of his quarterback, "He can't put the ball down the field if we're not calling plays down the field."
Henne's detractors were in full throat after his first pass of the game, a strike to Ndukwe. The Notre Dame safety returned the ball 51 yards to the Michigan four. Two plays later Quinn threw the first of his three touchdown passes, to backup fullback Ashley McConnell. Henne responded to that disaster by leading touchdown drives on four of his next six possessions.
Far more surprising than the travails of Notre Dame's defense was the egg laid by Quinn, who moves, for the time being, to the fringe of Heisman consideration. Asked what the Wolverines had done to confuse him, he replied, "Nothing. We flat out didn't execute."
Quinn can shoulder all the blame he wants, but Michigan has a seriously ornery defense. Under glowering, intense first-year coordinator Ron English -- whose motto is "Swarm" -- the Wolverines are much more aggressive than they were under his predecessor, Jim Herrmann. They are also blessed with one of the finest linebacking corps in the country. Shawn Crable made the quarterback's life miserable, sacking him once and pasting him after a pass on another occasion. Prescott Burgess, a former strong safety whom Carr benched recently to get the senior's attention, responded by intercepting Quinn twice, returning the first of those picks 31 yards for a touchdown on Notre Dame's second play from scrimmage. And LaMarr Woodley delivered the coup de gröace by returning Quinn's fumble 54 yards for a touchdown with 3 1/2 minutes left.
The only Wolverine who had a more spectacular game than Burgess was his former Warren G. Harding High teammate, Manningham, who was a sophomore at the Ohio school when Burgess was a senior. "That was the year [Manningham] scored four touchdowns against Massillon-Washington," recalls Thom McDaniels, coach of the Raiders. "One on a punt return, one on a kickoff return, and two touchdown receptions. We won 31-28. You can't tackle that guy in a phone booth. He's the best receiver I've seen in 33 years of coaching."
He may also be the most reticent. Asked what routes he had run for his touchdown receptions, the sophomore replied wearily, "I can't remember." He then invoked a mild medical emergency. "I just drank a bottle of lemonade too fast," he reported, "and now I've got a really bad stomachache. I need to get on the bus."
How are you going to argue with that?
And how are you going to argue that the Wolverines, who dominated every phase (except punting) against the No. 2 team in the nation, didn't deserve to jump from No. 11 in the polls to No. 6? Wouldn't it be something if, when Michigan visits Ohio State on Nov. 18, the ancient rivals are undefeated? If return artist Steve Breaston can develop into a bona fide receiving threat opposite Manningham -- Breaston's hands are a trifle suspect -- there's no telling how far the Wolverines can go. Because they've got everything else.
Including Weis's respect. As a sort of prologue to his postgame analysis, before addressing his team's shortcomings, Weis gave it up for the Wolverines. It's only proper, he pointed out, to give props "to an opponent who just kicked your butt."
Hail, in other words, to the victors.
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