In what has become a most enjoyable year where bar arguments are easily won by even the most casual member of Irish Nation, something is missing.
Yes, the defense has crushed dynamic offenses like Richard Dreyfuss’ styrofoam cup in Jaws, spawning over two dozen reports of individual acts of physical violence so profound and disgusting that decorum prohibits me from listing them here.
But yet, Irish Nation is not complete.
And yes, a first-year QB has gone playground on some of the nation’s top defenses while Irish running backs and receivers are taking turns making ESPN’s Top 10 each week, often thanks to an O-line that is making more pancakes than IHOP.
But somehow, my sports soul cries out for more.
Yes, a Notre Dame team that many thought (including me) was at least a year away from competing has trashed a schedule that was supposed to trash them as the Fighting Irish are undefeated through eight games.
But somehow, something is lacking…we need more, something primeval, something that fulfills our ephemeral existence and allows us to reach total and complete self-actualization…
Yes, we need nicknames.
Right now our team has a growing number of emerging stars that we call “Everett,” “George,” “Chris,” “Mathias,” “Bennett” and “that Daniels kid.”
Why don’t we just introduce our team like Greg Marmalard introduces pledges?
“Ken, Lonny, l'd like you to meet Mohammet Jugdish, Sidney and Clayton. Grab a seat and make yourselves at home. Don't be shy about helping yourselves to punch and cookies.”
Ladies and gentlemen, I'll be brief. Don’t we owe these kids some snappy handles commensurate with their lofty station? I put it to you, my Irish brethren—isn't nicknamelessness an indictment of our entire American society?
Well, you can do whatever you want, but I for one am not going to stand here and not give these fine men the living epithets they deserve as God-fearing students playing college football in the United States of America.
Gentlemen! (And I use that term in the loosest sense of the word) Give me names!
Be it Itchy, Mongo, or Ball-Crusher Lightning the III, our boys deserve the verbal and written respect only a catchy moniker can bestow.
So what say ye Irish Nation? Is Chris Brown to remain Chris Brown, or does he become “Downtown Brown Suck On That Shoelaces”? Is there more than Irish Chocolate out there, or can we cheer all the way to “Mt. Everett”?
The call to arms is out.
I, mighty 10 Beers of the Guinness family and Jameson Clan, await your answers.
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