<header>     [h=1]Most unbelievable part of Te'o saga? Swarbrick's trust in him[/h]     
                       By 
Gregg Doyel | National Columnist
             <time pubdate="" datetime="2013-01-17T04:09:00Z">Jan. 16, 2013 11:09 PM ET</time>         
     </header>          
                            Notre Dame  people bought it. They bought the whole damn thing.       Manti Te'o  told them about his girlfriend, and they bought it. He told       them  she was injured in a car crash. Then dying of leukemia. Then she        died, and not just during the football season but six 
hours after       his grandmother died.    
          Notre Dame bought it.    
          And Notre Dame is buying it still.    
           The story of Te'o that we heard all fall fell apart Wednesday  thanks to       some absurdly thorough reporting by Deadspin. The  girlfriend didn't die       six hours after his grandmother. She didn't  have leukemia. She wasn't in       a car crash.    
          She wasn't 
real.    
           Where we go from here, nobody knows. What happens next is  mysterious,       disconcerting territory. Te'o has yet to speak, other  than to put out a       statement that said he was the victim of the  hoax.    
          "I was the victim ..." Te'o said in the  statement. "It further pains me       that the grief I felt ... [was] in  any way deepened by what I believed       to be another significant  loss in my life."    
          Notre Dame believes it. Notre Dame  believes every last piece of it. We       know that because the school  trotted out athletics director Jack       Swarbrick to meet the media  Wednesday night and Swarbrick uttered gem       after gem, like this  one:    
          "Nothing I've learned has shaken my faith in Manti Te'o one iota," he       said.    
           The facts of this case are literally unbelievable, though I will  leave       myself some wiggle room to say the following, and to say it  sincerely:    
          Nothing about this story has been  comprehensible, or logical, and that       extends to what happens next.  I cannot comprehend Manti Te'o saying       anything that could make me  believe he was a victim. That doesn't mean       such a tale cannot be  told. It just means I can't conjure it in my head.       You could give  me three months to come up with a legitimate ending for       this story  that explains how Manti Te'o didn't know that his       "girlfriend" of  three years was a hoax.    
          And after three months, this is what I would write:    
          "..."    
           I can't do it. Maybe Te'o can. Maybe Te'o will meet the media on        Thursday and tell a story so convincing, so believable, that I'm  rushing       to my laptop to try to scrub this story, the one you're  reading now,       from the Internet.    
          But I doubt  it'll happen that way because this story, his story, strains       the  limits of belief. It strains my belief, and yours. I've been reading        you -- on message boards and Twitter -- and you don't believe Te'o,        either.    
          Notre Dame believes him.    
          "It does fully line up," Swarbrick said of Te'o's story about the hoax.    
          People who don't believe Te'o? Swarbrick has something to say to them.    
          "Then you don't know Manti, is my answer," he said.    
          Mine, too.    
           As for Swarbrick, he had better be right. The USS Manti Te'o has  just       entered unseen waters, and Jack Swarbrick attached himself to  the hull.       If this ship goes down, it takes Swarbrick down too.  We'll never forget       the 30 minutes he spent trying to convince us  that the world really -- 
really       -- is flat.    
           Swarbrick was pushed just once during the news conference, when he  was       gently challenged on his assertion that Te'o and his  girlfriend had       "exclusively an online relationship."    
          That doesn't jibe with 
this       story in the South Bend Tribune,   which in addition       to being the paper in Swarbrick's hometown,  also had this story       circulating Wednesday on Twitter thanks to a  passage that describes, in       detail, the time Te'o first laid eyes  on his girlfriend.    
          "Lennay Kekua," the story says of  the fictitious girlfriend, "was a       Stanford student and Cardinal  football fan when the two exchanged       glances, handshakes and phone  numbers that fateful weekend three seasons       ago."    
          
The two exchanged glances, handshakes ...    
           Swarbrick was asked about that, and he had no answer. Because  there is       no answer, other than to make like an ostrich, stick your  head in the       sand and pretend the question doesn't exist.  Swarbrick said there were       "several meetings" set up between Te'o  and Kekua, including in the state       of Hawaii, but Kekua never  showed up. Yet Te'o continued the       relationship, presumably. And  Swarbrick bought the story, definitely.    
          The news conference hit its nadir when Swarbrick started a sentence       before breaking down:    
           "The thing I'm most sad about is ..." Swarbrick paused, sipped  from a       cup of tea, composed himself and forged ahead. "The single  most trusting       human being I've ever met will never be able to  trust again in his life."    
          Single most trusting human being? Manti Te'o?    
          I would suggest someone else takes that trophy.