Carr's embarrassment will grow with time

Ever run down the street naked in front of friends, neighbors and family? Of course you have. We all have.

Then we woke up, relieved. Nightmares suck but in a way they're healthy, purging the mind of subconscious fears.

Mike Hart played his guts out, but couldn't carry UM to the win. (AP)

Now, think about the most embarrassing moment of your life, then multiply it by a factor of Carr. Lloyd Carr. The Michigan coach is the other side of Appalachian Fever that has struck the country this week.

See the drunk students in Boone. See the goalpost torn down by students and deposited in the driveway of App State chancellor Kenneth Peacock. Salute the aw-shucks Mountaineers coach Jerry Moore. Compare the schools' spending power. App State's football budget is $1.5 million. Michigan is in the middle of a $226 million renovation of its stadium.

We said it was embarrassing. Now see the 62-year-old Michigan coach who has delivered both a national championship and, on Saturday, the competition for arguably the biggest upset in the sport's history.

"I wouldn't want to be on their practice field Tuesday," Moore said.

The aftermath isn't about retribution at Michigan; hopefully it's about sympathy. It's not clear if even a victory over Ohio State this year can save Michigan's season. But one thing is sure 48 hours later: Lloyd Carr will never live this down.

The great coach and greater man might be running down the street naked for the rest of his life in the eyes of his detractors.

I put in quick calls Sunday to three nationally prominent coaches to see if they, you know, felt for Lloyd. He is one of them. They're in the same fraternity. Haven't all coaches had their Appalachian State moment in some way?

The only coach I got through to was Urban Meyer, who was in a staff meeting.

"I don't want to comment on that," he said politely, then added, "Holy Cow is right."

How many of them have won a national championships? How many of them have sustained one of the most demanding programs in the land, pumping out the requisite conference titles, draft choices and All-Americans?

How many of them are as happy as Carr, who welcomed his 11th grandchild -- Thomas Lloyd Carr -- this week? That's the side of him most of us don't see. You had to be there like I was in May with Carr beaming at his then-pregnant daughter-in-law Tammi. Talking longingly about his new best friend, Russell Crowe. He sounded a lot like a guy who was ready to sip pinot grigio on the back deck after dinner for the rest of his life.

But if he goes -- retirement, most likely -- it will be on his terms. It has been speculated that part of the season Carr is so secretive is that he saw what Gary Moeller went through when he was fired. Moeller certainly screwed up in 1994 with his ugly, alcohol-fueled outburst at a Detroit-area restaurant, but he didn't lose his dignity.

Moeller willingly damned his career at that point. All Carr did was coach his guts out and eventually lose a game.

"Lloyd Carr is one of the best football coaches in the country and is very highly respected," Moore said.

That's a quote you're not going to see much of this week. It doesn't translate well into smart-ass as columnists snack on Carr's career carcass.

But Lloyd is smarter than most of us, more well-read, maybe even more loved. A recent 10th anniversary gathering of the 1997 championship squad included more than Tom Brady and his supermodel girl toy. It included almost everyone on that team.

"There was such an incredible response," Carr told me in May. "In football, you talk about friendship, love. What was most rewarding was to see the genuine love of the guys."

There is embarrassment, disappointment every day in the profession. You get over it, move on.

Joe Paterno had the runs last season against Ohio State, and almost pooped his pants right there on the sidelines.

"That was my most embarrassing moment in all my years of coaching," he said.

North Texas' Todd Dodge thought he could transfer his high school success -- 48 straight wins at Southlake (Texas) Carroll -- to college. His Mean Green fell only 69 points short of Oklahoma in Dodge's debut.

Charlie Weis kept us, and Georgia Tech, waiting for weeks before revealing his starting quarterback. That Demetrius Jones really tore it up, didn't he?

The Beatdown in the Big House shouldn't have happened. But neither should Watergate, 9/11 or the Iraq War. The difference is that Lloyd stood in front of God and man Saturday and took the blame. It was his fault, he said. That put him miles ahead of a couple of presidents on the accountability scale.

Yes, coaches always blame themselves after games like this, then they go into a meeting and rip the staff a new one. But Lloyd fell on the sword in a genuine way. There was plenty of blame to go around. Defensive coordinator Ron English doesn't look so hot right about now. Neither does kicker Jason Gingell, who couldn't clear a backyard fence in the fourth quarter. Neither does the defense that was completely surprised by the Mountaineers speed.

If you're going to blame Lloyd for those failings then you also must praise him for the heart of Michael Hart, who almost beat App State by himself.

If you want to fire him, fire him, Michigan maniacs. Go get yourself another coach. Start the search right now. Break the bank. Nick Saban's spoken for and Bill Belichick isn't taking any calls.

While you vilify him, don't forget that all this is killing Carr, too. He still refuses to enter Bo Schembechler's office right down the hall from his, out of respect. How do you think he feels now when he stares down the hall? Since Bo died, the Wolverines are 0-3 and have given up 108 points.

If he's going out, he's going out with dignity. A Michigan Man. Head held high. Body fully clothed.

For now, though, the nightmare is real.