Aloof Clausen Passed on Golden Chance

STANFORD, Calif. -- Let it be said that the final handoff that Jimmy Clausen made in his college career was not to Robert Hughes, but to his older brother Rick. And that it was not a football, but Clausen's golden helmet. Although, "to be honest," as Clausen has said many a time the past two months, he has yet to sit down with his family and discuss his future yet.

Maybe not, but he is already plundering booty from his Notre Dame experience.

As the Irish quarterback walked off the field at Stanford Stadium in the wake of Saturday's 45-38 defeat to the host Cardinal, he handed his headgear to his elder sibling. Rick then held it in his right hand, hidden beneath a black coat, for the next half hour as the Clausen clan loitered outside the Notre Dame locker room.

Notre Dame will miss the man with the golden arm -- not to mention the Golden Tate -- but it will hardly miss the drama, the privileged existence or the entourage that defined Clausen's three seasons. Clausen was his typically brilliant self on Saturday night -- 23 of 30 for 340 yards and five touchdown passes without a turnover -- but "to be honest," there has rarely been a time in Clausen's three years in South Bend when it was felt that Clausen was being honest. Or genuine.

From the secret surgery on his elbow the summer before his freshman season to the Saturday night skirmish a week ago, he has been a clandestine Clausen, enshrouded by his two older brothers and his parents as if the entire Notre Dame experience was some timeshare to which they were entitled.

There's a certain Little Miss Sunshine aspect to the Clausens, except that they can afford much better than a decrepit VW and Jimmy ain't exactly as adorable as Olive. No one can question his talent. Even his toughness, as exhibited by the swiftness with which he returned to the Navy game after Kevin Edwards delivered what has to be one of the two worst hits he has taken this month, is beyond debate.

It remains, though, a question as to how much Clausen is invested in anything besides himself and his family. If he were just the backup tight end, his aloofness from his teammates might be less distasteful. If he were just the backup tight end, though, he likely would not be allowed to have his entire family around him in an otherwise restricted area following yet another tough defeat.

As Irish players trudged out of the locker room one by one, their faces drenched with emptiness, Clausen sat on a John Deere wagon munching a pizza surrounded by family and friends. Credit Clausen with meeting the media after the game -- which is more than his soon-to-be-dismissed coach, Charlie Weis, did -- and exposing both himself and his battered left eye to the the Internet's tentacles.

However, how many other players' families were granted access to that media area? How many other players have lived off-campus in a home better-suited to a tenured professor? How many others could be involved in an off-campus altercation and yet be allowed to start on Saturday night devoid of any public explanation as to the circumstances surrounding the blackened left eye or even whether they would be held to some level of -- and here's another buzz word from this miserable month -- "accountability"?

Unless Tiger Woods now plays for Notre Dame, the answer is nobody.

Senior wideout George West, who is rumored to have been involved at least peripherally in the C.J.'s skirmish, did not even make the travel roster for what could be his final Notre Dame game.

Jimmy Clausen is not to blame for Notre Dame's disappointing season. Hardly. Only six days ago Weis said that he believes that Clausen is the best player the school has ever produced, but that is partially the problem. Weis has always been overly protective and indulgent of Clausen, as if the rules did not apply to him. Clausen is terrific, certainly, but is he any better a quarterback than Tate, who caught three touchdown passes and ensured that his highlight-reel DVD will at least be a two-disc set, is a wide receiver?

Saturday night was anything but a proud moment for Notre Dame -- it's almost too much of a gimme to call it a black eye on the program -- even though the Irish played quite well, especially on offense. In yet another game in which the Irish teased their fans but did not reward them, the Irish at least showed heart.

And while Weis will be roundly criticized for shirking his postgame media duties -- and rightly so -- he did exit the field with grace. Weis strode toward midfield as it was quickly becoming a cardinal sea of bedlam. "I wanna do this the right way fellas," he said to his handlers surrounding him. "I wanna find that number seven (i.e., Stanford's Toby Gerhart, who rambled for 206 yards and three touchdowns besides tossing a fourth)."

Weis never did find Stanford's No. 7. While Notre Dame's No. 7 never did find, in three star-crossed seasons in South Bend, the essence of the university that he represented. Which is sad. Clausen played so well, but what he failed to obtain was not a Heisman Trophy or a national championship or even an above-.500 regular season. Although those things eluded his grasp.

What he failed to obtain was a true sense of this unique collegiate experience. And now, as sure as the keepsake tucked beneath his brother's coat, he is likely following his head coach out of South Bend. The latter takes with him a golden parachute; the former a golden helmet.

Their talent will be missed. But hopefully, for Notre Dame's sake, their replacements will exercise more humility. The head coach and his on-field extension, the quarterback. You would hope that after three straight non-winning seasons this would come easily to whoever takes the reins of this program next.