SOUTH BEND, Ind. — Picture this: It’s Jan. 12, 2011, and you’ve just been named Michigan’s new head football coach. You’re standing behind a podium at your introductory press conference, and it’s time to field questions.

The guy you’re replacing wasn’t a Michigan Man, but you are. You were raised in the heart of the Wolverines’ biggest rivalry. You were an assistant here. You dropped everything and “would have walked” to Ann Arbor if that’s what it took to accept your dream job.

Because you’re a Michigan Man.

You’re bold and arrogant, and you can be, because you’ll win. You’ll guard the new Fort Schembechler, and few will complain, because when you win, there aren’t too many doubters.

So when a reporter asks you about the state of the program, which has become a national punchline under your predecessor, you reply with a brash statement about being elite and continuing to be elite, because this is Michigan, fergodssake, and now that there’s a Michigan Man in charge, things will be right again.

***

Brady, it’s time to stop the charade. It’s not 2011 anymore. The fanbase is turning on you, people are calling for your head, and it’s your fault.

In case you were already busy preparing the post-game speech to your team, here’s how Saturday’s embarrassment ended:

With 1:20 left and Michigan toiling through a meaningless drive, the Notre Dame student section began singing “Na Na Hey Hey.” Soon, the entire stadium joined in the mocking chorus.

In a futile effort at retaliation, the Michigan Marching Band blasted “The Victors,” 31-point deficit be damned.

The fans chanted louder. Time ran out. Game, set, rivalry.

Twenty minutes later, Brady, you walked through the bowels of Notre Dame Stadium to your press conference. You were arrogant and terse, like you were in 2011, but that attitude doesn’t cut it when you’ve just endured the most lopsided loss Michigan has ever suffered to the Fighting Irish.

Brady, reporters asked, were you surprised by the score?

“Yeah,” you replied, then waited for the next question.

Brady, your biggest road victory is at Northwestern last year. You haven’t won at Michigan State, Ohio State or Notre Dame. What does Michigan need to get over the hump?

“Winning,” you replied, then waited for the next question.

Then you offered similarly empty answers until we gave up asking and you returned to the locker room.

And Brady, that’s not fair.

The snide answers aren’t fair to the fans, who wanted explanations for Saturday’s horror. Mostly, they’re not fair to you, because we know how much you care.

You might say you don’t mind what others think, but you’re kidding yourself, because this is the school you love and the program you love and the fanbase you love.

You told us that yourself on Jan. 12, 2011, and then you showed us that November when you beat Ohio State, and again the following fall when you beat Michigan State.

If this were an elite program, if your teams kept winning, then Saturday’s answers would be fine. The criticism is quieter when you’re winning, after all.

But Brady, this isn’t an elite program, and it hasn’t been since Shawn Crable’s late hit against Troy Smith in 2006. The Wolverines are still a joke. Everybody else realizes it, and so should you.

It’s time to start acting like it.

***

Brady, picture this: It’s Sept. 6, 2014, and it’s your fourth year as Michigan’s football coach.

Your team just entered the history books by failing to score a single point, snapping an all-time NCAA record.

You’re the last one to leave the locker room, and you walk out alone to the four officers who are waiting to escort you to the team bus. As you slip by Gate A onto Notre Dame’s campus, a group of Michigan fans spot you.

You turn away, perhaps expecting vitriol, but instead, the voices are positive.

“Good luck the rest of the season, coach!” yells one, and another shouts, “Beat Ohio State — that’s all I care about!”

So you slow down but don’t stop, and you raise your hand in acknowledgement of the support that has become increasingly rare since the 2011 Sugar Bowl.

Then you spot your wife, so you give her a hug, then a kiss, then a longer embrace. She’s been there for tough days since your first head coaching job in 2003, so maybe she knows it’s best to stay quiet, and you don’t say anything, either.

But Brady, losses like this aren’t new to Michigan anymore. And as convenient as it may seem, silence is not the answer.

Zúñiga can be reached at azs@umich.edu and on Twitter @ByAZuniga.