It has to be tough to be a Friar these days, man. There's a new head coach in town, coming from a place where destruction is expected not desired, and he's making your run wind sprints and lift Volkswagens until you vomit (and then you need to do up-downs in the vomit). Then, on top of that, the tent pole to your potential foray into national recognition -- Notre Dame -- up and decides that summering in the Outer Banks is more fun than skippering a catamaran off the coast of Newport.
Basically, these are crazy days in Providence. Reality is just too much. How do you handle all of this? Do you grab your Wii gun, steal a golf cart, and commit the worst hold-up of an ice cream truck of all time? No, you can't do that; that's probably an NCAA violation or something and having those guys come into town to make you sign paperwork with a big ol' "PROBATION" stamp on it isn't helping your situation.
No, friend, there's only one answer here: Yoga.
"Ohm . . . ohm . . . I am at peace with the fact that Notre Dame dropped my ass and split town with our pet puppy . . . I hold no ill will toward Notre Dame even though they functionally whacked myself in the face with a lead pipe and didn't even have the common decency to anonymously call an ambulance to save me from bleeding out in the Walmart parking lot . . . Ohm . . . ohm . . . Coach Gabrielli kind of looks like Satan if Satan wore a baseball cap and dropped the interest in fire and brimstone for an affinity for shuttle drills and trying to get guys to deadlift his pick-up so that Andrew Barton could fix his transmission on the cheap . . . Serenity, serenity, I am a dove flying over a rainbow . . . I am a rainbow . . . Everything will be okay; it's normal to be a rainbow, right?; I'm starting to freak out a little bit, man; wait, the pot of gold at the end of me is being stolen by the leprechaun!; how far will Notre Dame go to ruin me?!; that was my gold and now it's gone! . . . Ohm . . . ohm . . . I am a human weapon of peace, yet I after this I will attempt to decapitate my best friend at practice for the wholesome pursuit of "just because" . . . I need to buy more toilet paper. . . ."