You probably don't know me. I am the photo editor here, which means that while my pictures takes up big chunks of these pages, my words do not. But my work puts me way down on that hallowed football field, and there is a valuable perspective from below.

I don't see the instant replays, and I don't hear the inane analysis that you folks at home are privilege to on TV. My enjoyment of the football team often comes on a one-inch screen that I have pressed to my face. All I see is what I have in my viewfinder, and I try to bring you that vision through my photographs. I see the players in personal detail. The sweat and the blood. I see the joy and the pain — and lately, too much of the latter.

It's a close vision, and for a long time, I thought I was one of the few to be privilege to it. But this week is different. This week I learned that too many fans have their own narrow vision of our beloved gridiron program — a vision that focuses in on one play, one player or one coach.

Some of these fans are shooting with a very powerful lens. They really focus in and point out the failures of this team, these mortal players and imperfect coaches who stand before them on the grassy plain. The way these folks talk about it, you might guess that Notre Dame's season is over, that there's no more battles to be fought, no more moves left to make and no more heart left to beat.

On some days, I might agree with you. Last Saturday was almost one of those days, if it weren't for something I did while on the field. I stopped shooting for a moment, and I just looked around and took in the fleeting experience of being a photographer for Notre Dame. And I listened.

I didn't hear the players whining on the field. I didn't hear the coaches sighing in resignation. I heard a team that would not give up to a hostile crowd and a Heisman hopeful. While I didn't hear the cries of victory on Saturday, I heard the Irish faithful stand by their helmeted comrades.

So I ask you to take your eyes away from that lens for a second, and listen. Listen to the sound of a hundred hearts beating beneath blue jerseys. Hear the sounds of a team that holds aloft the proud traditions of a century. Drown yourself in the roar of a stadium that stands as a temple to your collective will.

This team needs you to pour out your souls on Saturday, and to take your eyes off the screen for just three and half hours. The players and coaches are trying to uphold our most storied tradition of all — fighting back from defeat. They've spent the week building themselves from the inside, while some of their fans try to destroy them from the outside.

I may see the team too closely, but I hear the game around me. It's the sound of 107 years of football, and this team stands ready to play the final notes of this century. Let's help them make some noise.

• Through the lens