Congratulations! This coming-of-age story has won you the privilege of attending all the home games of your choosing. Welcome to the family!

I consider myself to be tremendously lucky for the fact that I have practically been an Irish fan for the entirety of my existence. Even in the most nascent times of my life, I feel I was drawn to Our Mother and to her University. However, it was not until the final game of 1990 that I truly came to the realization that the Good Lord’s plan for my life was to serve as a supporter of the greatest institution in the history of sport: The Notre Dame Football team.

I had been involved in little league sports for a few years at this time, but my interest in watching others compete in feats of athleticism had never quite taken hold in my psyche. I didnt understand that there was greatness to behold outside the 10-foot wide circumference that was my view of the world. It wasnt until an angel of The Lord came into view that I understood the power, grace and love that He could provide. In the bible(and that would be the N.A.B. version, not that heathen KJ stuff. Apocrypha and all, baby!) we are introduced to three names of God’s special envoys to the world: Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. However, on a fateful night in January 1991, I saw an unnamed member of this troupe, surprisingly nicknamed “The Rocket.”

They often say The Lord works in mysterious ways, which I surely believe to be true. His way with me was to showcase the MVP of His team in an attempt to bring me closer to Him. I must say, not only has my love of sports grown because of this act, but my faith as well. Notre Dame football fandom has extended past my corporeal existence, past the realm of my consciousnss, and has ingrained itself into my soul. With every victory, I am brought closer to The Lord and with every loss, I go to Him for consolation. I implore you, Fr. Sorin, grant me the honor of continuing my fandom on the field this season and for every season remaining.

Your essay is… moving. You may come to as many home games as you like. And I will grant you one “grace and favor” recipient of your literary largesse – some young fan who needs a hand with grammar and imagery may use this essay as his own, and thereby gain admission to a home game.

Instead, I fell in love slowly and incrementally, not recognizing it until it was far to late to do anything about it, not that I wanted to upon having the realization. Lest there be any confusion, though, the slow erosion of whatever defenses or resistance I had, did not last long, for this all happened during my first home game: Notre Dame v. Michigan in 1990.

I started the day amused by all that was going on around and me had gone around me in that first football week. I had never been there before, and seeing the secular pilgrims visiting their shrines: the Bookstore, South Dining Hall, my own room even! By the time my friend and I walked across the quad from breakfast, we knew things were changing for us.

We painted our faces because we thought that would get us noticed by girls. And it did. But not in a good way. We put t-shirts on our heads in a doomed attempt to look less insane. Had the administration harnessed our efforts, we could have together solved the problem of pre-maritial sex in a weekend.

We climbed the steps to our “seats.” They were worn numbers on a weathered board and we leaned our backs agains the sun-warmed stone of the stadium. “We’re in the last row,” he said to me. “These are the greatest seats in the place,” I said to him and we began screaming “PUT IN MCDOUGAL!!!” as The Irish ran out onto the field.

By the end of the night, under the sputtering sodium lights, after Meier had ended the affair by crossing into the endzone with his arms raised, a sprinting simulacrum of Touchdown Jesus himself, we and I and every freshman around me had fallen deeply in love with the place and the people around us.

I know this essay can’t get me back in, but if it helps another, Father, I’d be happy as I was on that crazy first night.

Yes. But not in the Gold Thrones, because I want you to be able to cheer and enjoy the game. I can seat you up with the CSCs, but that can be rather shocking because they swear A LOT.

By Honors Seating, I hope you mean on the 50 yard line behind the Notre Dame bench

I don’t count this as a great film because it has a character named Wasp. But we definitely need more incoming freshmen with names like Truck McCall

Very good! Eloquent and concise, as well as mentioning The Lord and The BVM. You’re in. I’ll even put you in honors seating.

I am sure it is just due to your busy schedule, and not age, that you have forgotten the 1931 classic (I assumed you attended the opening):
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“The Spirit of Notre Dame” (1931)

courtesy of http://www.imdb.com

“Released a few months after the death of legendary Notre Dame football coach Knute Rockne, this well-intentioned film was dedicated to his memory. While J. Farrell MacDonald is right on target as the sympathetic but tough coach, the other actors and the thin story line seem corny and cliché to today’s audience. Andy Devine has some good comedy relief scenes with a touch of genuine pathos as a bench warmer who is the butt of the team’s practical jokes. But things go over the top when he is critically ill and delirious in the hospital, listening to the big game on the radio. When Notre Dame scores a winning touchdown and Andy reacts, the doctor hovering near by shouts, `By God, he’s going to pull through!’ Also starring Lew Ayres and William Bakewell, both much too thin to be football players! “

Lew Ayres … Bucky O’Brien
Sally Blane … Peggy
William Bakewell … Jim Stewart
Andy Devine … Truck McCall
Harry Barris … Wasp
J. Farrell MacDonald … Coach
Frank Carideo … Himself
Don Miller … Himself The Four Horsemen
Elmer Layden … Himself The Four Horsemen
Jim Crowley … Himself The Four Horsemen
Harry Stuhldreher … Himself The Four Horsemen
Nat Pendleton … Assistant Coach
Adam Walsh … Himself
Bucky O’Connor … Himself
John Law … Himself
Moon Mullins … Himself
Art McManmon … Himself
Al Howard … Himself
John B. O’Brien … Himself
Knute Rockne … Himself (archive footage)
Francis Ford … Alumnus (uncredited)
Florence Lake … Trixie Hayes (uncredited)
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It is interesting the see the actual ND players in the film. Unavailable for decades (and thought lost), a DVD was made from a recently found old film copy around 2005 (?) (my memory says that it was found in an old box in the Administration Building….). I purchased a copy at the time.

Maybe not a much fun as “Knute Rockne All American” or “Rudy” it is still a movie from Hollywood.

Each individual on this Earth has a longing to achieve happiness. They will strive to reach that certain moment in time where all troubles of this world fade away and we all only left with the blissfulness that is called happiness. For me, personally, I find the Notre Dame campus on an afternoon (or evening if it’s a night game hopefully) in mid to late October to be exactly this. As mortals tied to this existence for only a brief period of time, we must consider the inevitability of our own deaths at some point. Everyone wishes to reach this ultimate end in this state of happiness, and I couldn’t think of a better place to finally meet the Lord and the Holy Mother than at Notre Dame (Seriously they can always be found on campus 24/7). A Notre Dame football game means more to me than simple words can sum up. It’s the one time each year that an individual like me, who has never attended the University, to witness and be a part of something that crosses all racial, faith, or cultural divides. It brings about a sense of nostalgia and euphoria unlike no other. The sights, the sounds, the smells, and the rituals that fill this hollowed ground are nothing short of miraculous signs for us “true believers.” If I were to choose the time and place for where I were to leave this world, it would be nowhere else but at Notre Dame following an upset over the defending, and unbeaten national champions.

They say you can’t buy happiness, but you can usually buy a Notre Dame football ticket, which is ALWAYS good enough for me.

I hope the good Padre finds this essay to be satisfactory