It is time

I was at Stegeman this afternoon, and it wasn't pretty.

Ellen, Russell, Warren S., his two-year old nephew Holden, Meghan, and I have been planning our trip to the Stegosaurus for over a month. When we walked in today, thirty minutes before the tip, you could sense it: an apathy that you could cut with a pilates ball. Though the limited crowd offered a very appreciative reception for Bliss, Gaines, and the memory of Br0phy, the rest of the day was phoned in by almost all involved. I was truly embarrassed for myself and my school. But I couldn't blame anyone.

Make no mistake. I am very appreciative of the coach for showing up at a time when we really didn't have much to offer. And I hope the significant buyout we will pay him will help remind him of that.

But it's hard to imagine things getting any better any time soon. That lack of hope is reflected in a team and a more-than-half empty house that both probably should have stayed in bed this morning. When we play the video montages to half-interested fans and play the songs that set the tempo for the golf claps of the faithful, we don't do our school or our brand any favors.

Wednesdays and Saturdays in Stegeman have become self-parody, and no one seems to care. To me, that is as sure a sign as any that it is time for a change.