Its role has been put to the test in one of the rockiest Decembers in the university's 160-year history.

For generations, besides its unquestioned role as American leader in Roman Catholic education, Notre Dame has been symbolic of an America of tradition, built to tolerate, even encourage change.

As you cross Angela Boulevard, you see one key change in a northeast glimpse toward a tastefully- done addition to Notre Dame Stadium, an addition of over 20,000 new seats that pushed the 70- year-old structure's capacity over 80,000, a figure printed in every Notre Dame game summary since its 1997 completion, representing the 31 latest in a line of 160 straight sellouts dating back to 1973.

You catch one last glimpse of Our Lady of the Lake atop the 114-year-old Administration Building, then think of the events of the past month that rocked that stadium, that building, a campus and an entire alumni and community that spans the globe.

A coach fired, really in early October, but only announced Dec. 2. An Irish-American from Long Island, New York, a huge success elsewhere, hired within five days, seemingly the perfect fit after Notre Dame's administration couldn't land its top choice.

Then, stunningly, after a series of events that would test the combined writing skills of John LeCarre, Tom Clancy and Stephen King, yet another twist -- this one the cruelest. Another firing.

Twelve days, two coaches gone, two thousand questions asked.

The "perfect fit" had misrepresented himself twice on his resume, the second -- a claimed master's degree from New York University -- forcing Athletic Director Kevin White to reluctantly announce George O'Leary would give up his dream job five days after he'd told a cheering Joyce Center crowd he was "Here to take Notre Dame football back where it needs to be..."

Inside the Joyce Center offices, White was almost constantly in conference. "Dr. White," a secretary would call out, "Joe Montana on 3." Twenty minutes later, "Ara Parseghian on 2."

When he wasn't scuttling to South Bend Michiana Regional Airport to catch a private jet, that is, en route to yet another interview of the latest prospect du jour.

His 51-year-old face was beginning to look like a South Bend road map. How, many wanted to know, could he not question O'Leary's credentials? Of course most of those same people hadn't thought to question the people at Syracuse, the San Diego Chargers or Georgia Tech, O'Leary's prior stops.

His misrepresentations hadn't surfaced until a New Hampshire reporter sought to do a local-boy-makes- good story on O'Leary's playing days at New Hampshire. Which never existed, of course. And which was also the case with his N.Y.U. "degree". The chalk-on-black- board sound probably would have outdecibeled the 18-wheelers roaring down the Indiana Toll Road.

At square one for a totally unexpected second time, Kevin White was a lonely, desperate man.

The human monuments to the Notre Dame legacy called repeatedly. University high rollers were in constant contact with White and other athletics officialdom, along with the schools' president, the Rev. Edward A. Malloy, C.S.C.

If you worked the coffee concessions on Joyce Center's second floor these past couple of weeks, you more than made a living. Lights burned well after midnight in some offices.

The merry-go-round of names was enough to test the sanity of P.T. Barnum. Jon Gruden? What's holding us up from hiring the Oakland Raiders' wunderkind coach?, inquiring Domers wanted to know.

How could he not come here instead of dealing with curmudgeonly Al Davis, the Raiders' renegade owner?

The dizzying whirl took you through San Francisco 49ers coach Steve Mariucci (no, according to two west coast sources, but...)

On to Oklahoma's Bob "I'm flattered, but I'm very happy here" Stoops. Or Mike "See Stoop Quote" Bellotti at Oregon.

Certain names batted around by the eager media never existed inside Joyce Center. Tom Coughlin, the Jacksonville Jaguars coach, a Catholic history scholar had expressed strong interest...but there was no reciprocation, because of objections from athletic department officials. Would Tom O'Brien retrace the steps of Notre Dame alumnus Frank Leahy, from Boston College to South Bend? Nope.

And then Thursday, his team finally experiencing the much-awaited National Football League off week... wasn't that Mike Shanahan of the Denver Broncos walking across Juniper Road toward Joyce Center?

Chicago's ESPN Radio1000 quickly reported it was, continuously citing "our sources."

Which very likely was Notre Dame trustee and former Irish and Chicago Bears defensive back Dave Duerson, who also was part of the station's pre- and post-game team at Irish home games and probably another key member of the selection committee, a very influential Chicago alumnus.

The flurry of attention -- even though Broncos sources and a Denver TV report insists Shanahan had told the station "I'm 100% sure I'm staying here" -- simply added to the "Alice in Wonderland" scenario.

Right. And you're the coach of a tradition rich N.F.L. team trying to find a back-door into the playoffs, wouldn't the first thing entering your mind be, "Hey, I've got a day off, why don't I take a little trip to South Bend?"

You'd travel that 1,160 miles just to make some, ahem, suggestions to the Notre Dame brass, right? Consider Shanahan a candidate. And while you're at it, keep Mariucci's name in the blender.

But that was Thursday. Then, of course, on Friday came yet another name -- Washington coach Rick Neuheisel, whose Huskies were in San Diego preparing for their Holiday Bowl game with Texas next Friday.

"I can tell you I'm flattered to hear my name connected with that situation," Neuheisel told a flock of reporters outside QualComm Stadium. "But..."

You don't really need the remaining words, do you?

By thy denials, shall ye be known. Yep, yet another viable candidate.

The names fly and every hour seems to produce another rumor. Harvard's Tim Murphy? Check. Barry Alvarez, Wisconsin's highly-successful coach and former Lou Holtz assistent in the late 1980s at N.D.? Check.

But don't check too seriously. The information overload will turn any thinking person's brain to mush.

In this blizzard of speculation, "sources say," and continuing jockeying for scoop position, one name may be hanging on through the avalanche of information. The name Tom Clements may not resonate as loudly, but in fact, he may wind up being the prime candidate.

"Tom WHO?" the majority of you under 30 will ask.

Clements is a 1975 Notre Dame graduate, Ara Parseghian's last quarterback. And, in many ways, his best, quarterbacking the '73 Irish to the national title.

His work with N.F.L. quarterbacks has earned him leaguewide recognition as one of the league's true technical brainiacs, never more than this year, where he transformed the Pittsburgh Steelers' Kordell Stewart from a skittish sideline-to-sideline rambler into a candidate for the league's most valuable player award.

"A lot of key people -- Ara, Joe Montana, a number of other players (from the Ara era) are pushing for Clements," one Notre Dame source said.

"I hear the athletic department is getting a lot of calls about this now."

Kevin White, of course, will tell you this is not a Gallup Poll-driven sweepstakes. So will veteran Notre Dame sports information director John Heisler and Father Malloy.

"When we've got something to announce," the standard issue on-campus response always goes, "you'll know."

But the thrill is in the chase. And this darkhorse name -- Tom Clements -- could bring a truly startling finish to what has become one of college sports' most bizarre off-field odysseys ever.