In December of 2001, George O'Leary was on top of the world.

He was ecstatic because he had just been appointed as the head football coach for the University of Notre Dame.

And I can imagine that somebody with the name of O'Leary, coaching the Fighting Irish, is a thrill.

And imagine actually it'd be almost like dying and going to heaven to be coaching the Fighting

Irish when your name is O'Leary. But within two days of that announcement, O'Leary's dream turned into a nightmare.

Why?

Because a reporter had discovered that O'Leary has lied on his resume.

His resume said, among other things, that he had played for New Hampshire.

Well, in reality, he didn't.

But he fudge that truth, not when he got that job in 2001. It was written in his resume

21 years earlier when he applied for a job in Syracuse. And so for 21 years, a lie has gone undiscovered.

For 21 years, untruth has been accepted for the truth.

For 21 years, a small lie went unnoticed.

And I remember people saying, well, after all, that is just a small lie, went unnoticed. And I remember people saying, well, after all, that is just a small

lie. It has nothing to do with his talent. There's nothing to do with his ability. It's neither

here nor there. Why do people make such a fuss about just a lie? It's an exaggeration.

But you know what's even more tragic than the lie itself is what the coach's brother said, and I want you to listen carefully, to what the

coach's brother said. When he was asked about this discovery, he said, is anyone trying to tell me

that resumes are truthful?

In the America we live in, the willingness to lie on a resume is an indication of how

much you want the job.

End of court.

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