This was written by a college fraternity brother of mine. Extremely well written, Lance Ward. The Day I fell in LIKE with Notre Dame. I love Oklahoma football. Always have. Always will. I was there when Joe Washington ran back the punt vs. OSU. I also witnessed Scott Hill’s punishing hit on Tony Dorsett. I’ve also seen John Elway and Jeff Hostetler shame the OU defense. And in my early years, I saw most games with my mom, who has followed the Sooners since childhood. Mom was 15 when Notre Dame ended the (still) longest winning streak in college football—47 straight. She still winces when she thinks of that dark day. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has nightmares. So naturally, I was raised to think ill of the Irish (to put it mildly). Heck, I didn’t even care for "Rudy" that much (forgive me father, for I have sinned). That changed on September 27-28, 2013; the weekend I fell in LIKE with Notre Dame. The Sooners are still my team, and Saturday’s win was one of the best I’ve ever experienced, but even if we had lost, my friends and I will never forget the grace and class of Notre Dame. Here a few things we saw that changed our minds about this great football tradition: The Campus: I’m not Catholic, but one thing I love about Catholicism is its recognition of God’s holiness, and the campus exudes this. From the “Word of Life” mural (a.k.a. Touchdown Jesus), to the Basilica, where players observe Mass, to the Grotto, where quiet prayers are offered and candles lit, you can’t escape the idea that God is not only the Christian’s friend, but also his King. For those of us who treasure our standing in Christ, the Notre Dame campus can encourage comfort, worship, and a reminder of our God’s majesty and glory. The People: It started when we arrived Friday evening and began our tour of the campus. More than once we were met with, “Welcome to Notre Dame. How can I help you?” Later that evening we met an off-duty fire-inspector, serving as security at a (sold out!) soccer game. Bob K. has lived near the campus for over 50 years. Any question we asked he could answer (and tack on a story or two), including a request to round up the Leprechaun for a photo, walking 40 yards from his post and inviting the mascot to hang out with four crimson-clad men. Soon after, we said to Bob, “The people here; they’re so friendly.” “Is there any other way to be?” he asked, in his own Midwestern way. I guess not. As we departed, Bob handed us a card and an invitation: “If you ever come back, look me up.” Don’t worry Bob. If we return, you’ll be the first to know. Saturday morning, we made our way back to the campus (we traveled in an RV, and ND does not allow overnight parking on campus), and as we pulled off the tollway we got the booth operator to answer “Sooner!” to our “Boomer!” Same with the fee collector at the RV lot. We didn’t have beg. In fact, they seemed to get a kick out of playing along with our okie-ness. The Stadium: Notre Dame’s stadium bleeds tradition, respect and history. Every gate but one (yet to be named) is named for a national championship coach. Each gate features the coach’s name above and a statue of each off to the side. Once you get inside, the stadium is remarkably . . . drab, just as it should be. The bowl is grey. The seats are unfinished wood with stenciled seat numbers (watch out for splinters!). The press box is just that; a rectangular box with only a handful of “luxury suites” (for lack of a better term), reserved mainly for university officials, not wealthy donors. An ordinary scoreboard sits atop each end, containing only the basics—time, score, timeouts left, down and distance. Missing are a jumbotron and a high-tech lightboard. Neither is necessary to rev up the fan base. Also absent is corporate sponsorship (save a small NBC logo on the scoreboard). Perhaps this will change, but we’re in the two thousand teens, and Notre Dame football is not captive to a fast food chain, but content with a deep-seated passion for smashmouth football, locked in the hearts of Irish fans. Notre Dame students fill the northwest corner, and their butts never touch the splinters. On this gameday all of them stayed and stood ‘til the bitter end, then serenaded their team after a tough defeat. Heck, they even gave Blake Bell a Standing O when he left the game in the third quarter (he later came back and guided the Sooners to a game-sealing TD). Someday a school with glow-in-the-dark helmets, 400 uniform combinations and a posh lockerroom may win a title, but Notre Dame doesn’t need any of these. The stadium makes that much clear. Third Downs: If you’ve ever seen Yankee Stadium when an opposing batter has two strikes, you’ll have a good idea what South Bend is like when the visitors have the ball on third down. I grew to hate third downs when OU had possession. Music was piped in (the one failure of Old School ND), the crowd jumped to its feet, and I felt like an army of 70,000+ was marching down my throat. Mike Collins, the voice of Notre Dame stadium: The voice of Notre Dame is Mike Collins, PA extraordinaire. Picture in your ears the nasal sound of the late Lindsey Nelson, alongside the grit of Burgess Meredith as “Mickey.” That’s Mike Collins (next time you see me, I’ll be glad to do an impersonation). Collins’ spunk says to the crowd, “Why in the world would we be anywhere else today?” A great voice can book a lot of gigs, but Collins’ role is not a gig. It’s his life. It’s his way. It’s his passion. And when you hear him say, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for Notre Daaaame footbaaaaaall!” it’s not hard to imagine his fists pumping and a big smile from earlobe to earlobe. I’d pay a pretty penny to sit in a Greasy Spoon and listen to his scrappy passion for college football, as he sips coffee, gestures wildly, and remembers the early days of splintered britches and legends tearing up the turf. The Heartbreak: What confounds me in all of this is that the CFB Hall of Fame is moving from South Bend to Atlanta, home of the Chick-Fil-A Peach Bowl and Georgia Tech. Really?? Notre Dame will never be my team, but it does represent all that is right with college football, and it seems like sacrilege for the HOF to be anywhere else. I’ll never forget what Mike Collins said, just before the teams entered Saturday: “To quote Rod Stewart, ‘It’s late September, and I really should be back at school!’” Well, that’s where we were . . . back in time, back at Old School, back where we belonged. Thank you Notre Dame. You’ve killed us with kindness. You’ve reminded us what college football is all about. If we’re ever in the neighborhood on a fall Saturday, we’ll pray for a home game, available seats and that great Irish hospitality. And if you’re not battling the Sooners, we might just Cheer, Cheer for Old Notre Dame. Lance Ward is an OU graduate, a protestant pastor, and a parent of three, who still attends OU games with his mother, whose 57 year-old wound began to heal on September 28, 2013.
Posted on: Thu, 03 Oct 2013 01:59:49 +0000
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