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Confessions of the Notre Dame Leprechaun


Sure, and Hamburg native Daniel Colt Collins' "Life as the Notre Dame Leprechaun," gossiped about in today's Buzz column, will be flying off the shelves, if all if it is as good as the excerpts we read.

Here is one:

I led the cheerleaders in a "Hail Mary" before we ran through LaFortune Student Center, much to the surprise of the hungry fans waiting patiently in the serpentine Subway line coiled around the concourse.  More fans mobbed us for the remainder of the fifteen minutes we had left until the Band of the Fighting Irish signaled the start of its Step-Off Parade from the Golden Dome to Notre Dame Stadium.  Our venerated drum major blew his whistle, raised his ornate scepter, and away we went.

And another:

The blazing Midwest summer sun beat down on the back of my neck.  Beads of sweat gathered where my bowler hat met my brow, dripping in endless rows down my nose.  I wiped my sweaty palms against my bright green knickers one at a time so I could readjust my grip on the slippery steel of the giant flagpole I held in my hands. Over 81,000 voices hushed in the ninety-degree heat, waiting to erupt on my cue.  I could feel the weight of over 162,000 eyes bearing down on me.  Only one thought filled my mind: "Don't trip!"

Read a little more here by the Hamburger turned Leprechaun.

You know you want to!


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