To all new Miami freshmen: it’s story time, and it’s not a pleasant one. Once upon a time (well, 1970), in a land where polyester plaid pants and thick mustaches were still cool, 70 passengers and 5 crewmembers were flying in a chartered jet plane over West Virginia. They were the players, coaches and boosters of the Marshall University Thundering Herd football squad, and every single person on board met his tragic death when the plane crashed into the hillside. Yet the following year, a determined young team and new coaching staff emerged, committed to honoring their fallen friends by competing in the 1971 season. Football fans were amazed when, against all odds, the Herd triumphantly won their first home game in an ending better than any Hollywood script.

But I warned you that this story would not be a fairy tale: the next week, Marshall played Miami, and the Redskins beat the Herd in a debilitating 66-6 game.

The loss stung, and the football community vilified Miami, accusing us of cruelly and needlessly running up the score. Decades later, many Marshall alumni are still bitter. In 2006, Rick Meckstroth, a player on the 1970 and 1971 teams, told USA Today, “[It] was uncalled for. It burns a hole in your heart. To this day, people here still hate Miami with a passion.”

The game, and its subsequent controversy, is not a glamorous spot in Miami’s history. Of course, there are no rules in the NCAA handbook against completely dominating another team after their personal tragedy, but it certainly doesn’t make me feel any less embarrassed (or any less uncomfortable when I watch the epilogue of the We Are Marshall movie).

Now fast forward to today. We’re currently dealing with a controversy of incredible magnitude: the construction of the Muslim mosque and community center at Ground Zero, the site of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. The stakes couldn’t be higher. The First Amendment ensures that Muslims not only have the right to practice their religion, but also can build their houses of worship wherever they choose. However, for many Americans, including the families of some of the victims, the idea is horrific. Is it fair to build a center of faith on the memorial ground where thousands were murdered by extremists of that faith?

Legally, the answer is yes. Many proponents of the Muslim center go further, suggesting the building will demonstrate the United States’ tolerance after a decade scarred by ethnic and religious prejudice. It is imperative to remember that Al-Qaeda, a group that uses radical notions of Islam to wage war on the United States and Western society, does not represent all Muslims. Historian William Dalrymple correctly analogizes, “The fact that someone is a Boston Roman Catholic doesn’t mean he’s in league with Irish Republican Army bomb makers, just as not all Orthodox Christians have ties to Serbian war criminals or Southern Baptists to the murderers of abortion doctors.”

The people who are constructing the mosque and community center are not the terrorists who attacked our nation, but the emotional and physical wounds that Americans are suffering, nine years later, are still fresh. We never cease to ache for our American teammates — the people trapped in the buildings, the airplane passengers and crews, the police, the firefighters, the thousands who died that day.

The Constitution cannot, and should not, legislate compassion. It is the responsibility of human beings to know that stepping down, even in the face of bigoted critics, is sometimes the higher road. I hope the Muslim community, the majority of whom are peaceful and proud Americans like you and me, can empathize with the situation. I hope they have the sensitivity to realize that right now, a political statement for religious acceptance may not be as important as honoring those lost on Sept. 11. I also hope they have the courage to do what Miami should have done 40 years ago; take a knee.

Don’t run up the score. It may not be fair, but sometimes a moral victory is just as good as a real one.