If the month before Dec. 25 was not full of anticipation, Christmas morning may not invoke an overwhelming sense of loss after actually opening gifts.

If young adults did not work 18 years hoping to get into their college of choice, rejection may not be as hard to take.

Anticipation. Expectation. Hope. Dreams. Perhaps these are the real reasons behind the depression felt by the Notre Dame family after Saturday's loss to Michigan.

Sure, each year Notre Dame begins a season with the hopes of winning a national championship; however, this year more hype was added due to elements of tradition.

1966 ... 1977 ... 1988 ... every Notre Dame fan knew what logically followed those years. Wasn't it our destiny to be playing Jan. 1 for the national title?

Or what about the third year of Davie's coaching era? Holtz. Leahy. Devine. Parseghian. Who says history doesn't repeat itself?

As I returned from the Michigan State game last season, of course there was some sense of depression. The weekend before had seen a triumph in one of our greatest rivalry's. However, my feelings of loss that Sunday did not compare to the sadness I felt this year.

Last year, I had not anticipated bragging to my friends back home. This year on New Year's I would explain the immense joy that comes with going to the school that just won the national championship.

Last year, I had not dreamt of redemption for 1993. This year we would regain our dignity in the freezing game against Boston College with an undefeated season on the line.

Last year, I had not foreseen the day I would tell my children about my road trip to New Orleans. This year I would attend the National Championship Sugar Bowl game to cheer on the Irish.

In my mind, there was no doubt: Inevitably, we would be No. 1 when the polls came out in 2000.

After our field goal late in the fourth quarter which gave us a 3-point advantage, my fantasy seemed infallible. However, I was quickly brought back to reality when Michigan scored again.

I could barely watch, and yet I knew fate was on our side. We were going to win. The Irish inched down the field as the clock wound down, and I anticipated the unprecedented celebration that would occur that night.

And then, out of nowhere, the clock ran out. Michigan players and fans rushed the field, and I sat dazed wondering what happen to destiny. What happen to tradition. What happen to fate.

Of course there is always next year. Is n't there always a next time? Maybe I should not have dreamt about winning. I do know that the anticipation for 1999 no doubt made Saturday's loss a much harder burden to bear.

However, it's hard to say whether I learned anything from this experience. All I know is I'm already looking forward to next season ... '66, '77, '88, '00.

The views expressed in the Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.

• Dream makes loss harder to bear