The Observer is a Student-run, daily print & online newspaper serving Notre Dame & Saint Mary's. Learn more about us.



My confession

Laura Myers | Thursday, April 7, 2011

Forgive me, journalism, for I have sinned. It has been three years since I converted to the craft, and never in that time have I felt the need to confess.

Until now.

You see, journalism, I’ve tried hard to aspire to your virtues, and to avoid your vices. I fought temptation for years. But this year, I gave in.

It was innocent, at first. A silent fist pump in the press box when Notre Dame scored its first touchdown against USC this November. No one was hurt by my action.

But then, at halftime, as it became clear who had the upper hand, it happened. A colleague and I went to the bathroom of the Coliseum’s press box and jumped up and down at the idea of Notre Dame’s first defeat of USC in nine years, cheering like fans, not reporters.

For shame.

It was an isolated incident. I made my peace with it and moved on.

It’s not isolated anymore.

When Skylar Diggins came into my place of employment last Tuesday morning wearing the Dayton Regional champion hat she had more than earned the night before in a win over Tennessee, I didn’t try to talk shop or get a scoop. I simply handed her  bagel to her and said, “By the way, I like your hat.”

Because I did.

Before the Connecticut game Sunday, I painted my fingernails green, a silent act of rebellion against a rule of professionalism that I truly do believe in.

Then we beat Connecticut. At that point, old rules were out the window, journalism. I’ve reported on six losses to the Huskies in the past two years. To watch a win, a win by nine points, a win that sent us to the championship game? I cheered on press row. Not loudly, or obnoxiously. But I did.

Two days later, we were back for the national championship. My fellow senior reporter and I dressed up like Muffet McGraw. Other than that, we kept our professional demeanor intact for most of the game.

But when Tyra White hit that 3 with 1:07 to go, an audible “No!” slipped out before I could stop it.

When senior Becca Bruszewski went to the bench with seconds left in order to get a much-deserved round of applause for an excellent career, we quietly clapped along.

And today, I wore my Notre Dame women’s basketball T-shirt to class, to show how proud I am of this team, my fellow students, for such an amazing year.

So please forgive me for my indiscretions, journalism. As penance, I will attempt to remove myself from temptation by never again covering Notre Dame sports. I’ll simply be a fan.

That’s as good as I can do, journalism. In respect of your biggest virtue, absolute truth, I have to give my real confession.

I’m not sorry at all.