My view from the area of the student section known as “The Hillside”

On a few occasions, I have made the journey into enemy territory to watch Notre Dame football. Typically, the locations are either incredibly hostile or full of fans that are certain that they would defeat the Irish. For reference, here is my away game history:

• 2004 @ Michigan State (ND win 31-24)
• 2005 @ Michigan (ND win 17-10)
• 2005 @ Stanford (ND win 38-31)
• 2006 @ Southern Cal (ND loss 24-44)
• 2012 @ Oklahoma (ND win 30-13)

Virginia fell into a whole other category. If there was any remote hope that Virginia would upset the Irish, it certainly wasn’t expressed publicly by any fan that we met before the game. In between southern hospitality, beers, ham sliders, fried chicken, and good-natured back-and-forth ribbing, almost every conversation with a Virginia fan ended with an early congrats for a future Irish win.

It wasn’t until our group wandered into the stadium that we encountered anything that would be considered hostility. Compared to abuse that has been launched my way at the Big House, Spartan fans, and some of SC’s finest, it felt like child’s play.

Our “seats” were in a general admission lawn area. This area, called “The Hillside” is a part of the student section at Scott Stadium. We were able to purchase these at $50/each as a student guest as we have a Domer friend attending the Darden School of Business for his MBA, making this the cheapest ticket I’ve ever bought for an Irish game.

There were no restrictions on how many he could buy and, clearly, we weren’t the only ones taking advantage of it. The green of the Irish faithful was far from a rare sight on the Hillside and somehow, a group of five Irish fans managed to secure front row tickets in the seated area of the student section. I have no idea how they pulled that off and I was shocked by how many Irish fans were in an area that is typically sacred ground for the home fans.

If there was barely any hope before this game, seeing multiple groups of Irish fans invading your own student section likely killed whatever was left.

Our group prepares to take ND/Virginia at the top of the Hillside.

****

Notre Dame appears to all but confirm the lack of hope many Virginia fans had about this game. Even when the first ND drive stalls, the Irish score on a fake field goal. It was as if Brian Kelly wanted to ensure that Virginia fans would associate any potential success with failure.

Unfortunately, the Irish decide to go for two via a Ty Willingham swinging gate tribute and return some of that snuffed-out momentum back. Kelly becomes the gambler that splits a twenty at a blackjack table. He looks like a genius when an ace lands on his first face card, but is brought back to earth when a six lands on the other.

However, Kelly’s risky gambles appear to have little consequence based on the performance of the Irish defense. Brian Van Gorder shows the Virginia crowd Texas was no fluke as the Irish force back-to-back three and outs to start the game.

Meanwhile, the offense still struggles to finish drives, but when the defense manages to hold the Hoos to only 28 yards of total offense in the first quarter, it doesn’t seem to matter. In fact, the only real positive offensive movement is a 16 yard pass to end the quarter. In comparison, the Irish have already tallied 164 yards of total offense.

Who cares if the Irish have zero TDs on offense to this point. Eventually Zaire and company will settle in and deliver the blowout win every Irish fan expects. This won’t be close.

****

If there is one lesson that I have failed to learn as an Irish fan, it is that I shouldn’t give in to hope. Too often, the end result is despair. The Irish will string a couple of good series together against a superior opponent and I begin to believe that the upset fantasy playing in my mind will become reality.

As the second quarter unfolds, Notre Dame is still sputtering along and Virginia is taking advantage, building a 14-12 lead at the half. Their fans, once resigned to a loss just a couple hours prior, are now buying into the hope that they may just pull off the gigantic upset.

While the orange-clad fans soak in their new-found, post-tailgate buzz, myself, and our entire group are strangely calm. We know the Irish are the superior team here. If the can just get of their own way, this will end up like Baylor/SMU from last week in which SMU teased an upset to only be blown out.

In fact, my internal hubris grows to the point in which I pity the Virginia fans giving into this upset delusion. I know the eventual kick in the shorts is coming as I have been there too many times before.

Notre Dame all but confirms the blowout is coming as Zaire and Fuller connect on a 59 yard touchdown bomb that just looks far to easy on their second drive of the half which lasts all of that one play. It’s a clear message that the Irish can do this whenever they want. The first half was nothing more than lulling Virginia into a false sense of security.

The Irish defense is back on track too. After dodging a bullet with a missed Virginia field goal, they string together three consecutive three & outs that total for 6 yards (and really, were it not for a stupid unsportsmanlike conduct penalty, it would’ve been four consecutive three & outs). The Hoos special teams don’t help the cause and put the Irish in plus territory. Zaire looks to kill any remaining hope in Chancellorsville opening with a 18 yard pass to Chris Brown to put the Irish on the Virginia 27. Zaire follows this with a three yard run.

And now he’s not getting up.

****

If there’s another lesson that I have failed to learn as an Irish fan, it is that expectations of an easy win is a fool’s errand. Not only do too many teams seem to magically have their best game of the season against Notre Dame, but the Irish schedule lends itself to the let-down-look-ahead sandwich far too often. After blowing out Texas and Zaire receiving Heisman hype for his incredible performance and with Georgia Tech, one of the toughest Irish opponents of the season, waiting in the wings, we should have seen this coming.

Now, on top of all of that, the “I hope we don’t see injuries like we did in 2014” thought now has 2015 laughing in its face. Our starting quarterback can’t walk off the field under his own power. Just last week our starting running back went down with a season-ending ACL injury. Before the damn season even started, a starting defensive lineman went down.

If that wasn’t enough, each of those positions saw transfers that already raiding the depth of each position (yes, I am aware Jones plays DT and DEs departed, but I’m comfortable in rolling with this). All of a sudden, Deshone Kizer, ND’s backup QB that did not get nearly enough reps in the spring thanks to Golson essentially wasting a roster spot before his transfer, is heading into the game with WR-turned-RB, C.J. Prosise.

This is the doomsday scenario for the season. I am sick to my stomach. Virginia fans smell blood in the water. Kizer hands the ball off to Prosise for a 24 yard TD run.

Doomsday may have to wait another week. The Irish are up 26-14 with a 0:54 left in the third quarter. All of a sudden, I see many orange shirts head for the exits.

I am absolutely dumbfounded.

****

The Hillside is not spared from this Cavalier exodus. A noticeable portion of the students on the Hillside trek up the hill and out of the stadium. My buddy had told us before the game this was a common practice, but usually when Virginia was on the wrong end of a beating. None of us can believe so many fans have waved the white flag in this one.

The Hoos are only down by two TDs. There’s over a full quarter left to play. The Irish are now down to their backup QB. Virginia has proven that they can indeed move the ball on the ND defense in the first half.

I know damn well this game is far from over, but it seems there are a fair amount of Virginia fans that disagree right now. Their hope has died. They do not wish for it to be reborn. Instead, they will take their chance to beat traffic or find solace through booze.

Matt Johns then proceeds to lead Virginia on a six play, 75 yard TD drive that takes only a little over two minutes. The drive is punctuated by a Johns TD scramble that should have been a sack, but a missed tackle in the backfield was all the opportunity Johns needed to resurrect hope within the stadium.

The Irish now lead 26-21 with almost the entirety of the fourth quarter to go.

Good call, departing fans.

****

Kizer takes the field to start his first drive as ND’s starting QB. Zaire has been carted off the field and my phone manages to finally get a data connection. It, fittingly, lasts just long enough for me to see his ankle bend in the most unnatural of ways. No official announcement has been made, but our group now knows “Deshone Kizer, ND starting QB” will be the likely reality for the remainder of 2015.

Sadly, his first drive doesn’t quite get on track after Prosise is stuffed on a 3rd and 1, adding to the maddening 0’fer the Irish have compiled all day on third down conversions. The gamblin’ man that was Brian Kelly earlier in the game is gone. The Irish punt on 4th and 1.

Thankfully, this conservative bet pays off as the Irish force their first turnover of the season. But that joy is short-lived.

Incomplete pass. Run for no gain. Kizer is sacked. Three & out. I worry Kizer may not be ready for this. He couldn’t read the progressions fast enough nor navigate the pocket during the Virginia pass rush.

Prayers start for the Irish defense to save the day. They fail to do so. Virginia is now up 27-26 with less than two minutes to go.

The Virginia fans on the Hillside that refused to join the previous exodus now decide to taunt the football gods. They have now moved to the bottom of the hill to prepare for a field rush. This is, without a doubt, the most bi-polar thing I have ever witnessed within a fan base.

Hope is more than just alive for them now. For them, victory is certain.

****

Hope is barely alive among our group. It has been mostly been replaced by anger.

Anger that we screwed around in the first quarter by going for two. Anger that we haven’t converted a third down all day. Anger that our running game looked great until it became short distance. Anger that the usually sure handed Irish receivers are dropping passes, including Will Fuller. Anger that the Irish secondary looks more confused than Gary Gray against Michigan in 2011. Anger that the entire team has played some of the sloppiest football possible and now we are reliant on our backup QB with no experience to lead the Irish down the field to hopefully give our freshman kicker a chance at his first game-winning FG on the road.

Kizer starts the drive 1-3, all to Will Fuller, and it’s now 4th and 2. Kelly calls a timeout. I feel like I need to vomit.

Kizer picks up the 4th on a planned QB run. Then hit hits his next two passes driving the Irish down to the Virginia 40. The Irish call another timeout. Kizer looks calm, confident. This could happen. Hope has returned and my heart is now beating out of my chest.

The Irish come out of the timeout with some form of a screen that makes no sense. To make matters worse the offense is scrambling to line up. Time is bleeding off the clock. Our group, and every Irish fan around us is screaming for the Irish to get on the ball.

As the clock clicks down, Kizer finally snaps the ball. I am expecting a quick out to get the Irish into field goal range. Kizer waits and I feel like I can read his mind. I know he’s going for the endzone. I may or may not have remembered to breathe at this point.

Kizer turns towards the corner of the endzone that we are facing and uncorks the most beautiful bomb. I look down to see Fuller beginning to create separation. I look back up and see the pass looks to be on target. Look back down, Fuller is completely behind the coverage and burned them. Look back up, ball is still in the air.

Time has slowed down to the point in which I feel like I could sprint from the Hillside and catch this pass.

I look back down and Fuller has extended his arms. He snags the pass. Touchdown.

Oh my!

Down 1, @NDFootball connects on this 39-yard TD pass to pull into the lead at Virginia with 12 seconds to go: http://t.co/sSJFYhGaY5

— ESPN (@espn) September 12, 2015

****

If you had compiled a list of football things for 2015, I can assure the following wouldn’t have been on it:

• Jumping up and down on the Virginia Hillside losing my mind because of a last-second winning TD
• Having a random, young Irish fan asking us to put her up for push-ups to celebrate because of a last-second winning TD
• Being able to laugh at Virginia fans for daring to taunt the football gods and prepping to rush the field with nearly two minutes left
• Having all of the above happen without our starting QB

Midway through doing push-ups, I realize I forget how many points the Irish have scored and have to check the scoreboard. After I check, I realize it was probably a very bad idea to attempt to aid in 34 push ups, completely out of shape and on an incline, no matter how light this young Irish fan was.

After we hoist our new Irish friend up for the 34th push up, I finally get a chance to take a deep breath. My heart has been on the verge of explosion ever since Fuller caught Kizer’s bomb. I am able to take a look at how stunned the Virginia faithful are. Some are still at the bottom of the Hillside still holding the surrender cobra pose. Others are making the trek back up the hill and out of the stadium in stunned disbelief. Others look frozen in place, waiting to wake up from a nightmare.

The end result of watching all your hope crushed. (Screen capture via EPSN)

****

Hope is the cruelest of all the cruel things in sports. Heartbreak doesn’t happen without hope. Virginia could have lost 45-0 and it wouldn’t feel nearly as bad for their fans as this does. The fans that exited the stadium before the 4th quarter are now the lucky ones. They abandoned this silly thing called hope a long time ago.

However, this cruel thing called hope has now come full circle. Now, Irish fans are the ones left with the sliver of hope that Deshone Kizer can find a way to lead the Irish to a playoff run. After all, Ohio State did it, albeit without also watching their starting RB fall in week 1, but still, precedent exists.

And wouldn’t a playoff run with a backup QB add yet another chapter in the storied lore of ND football? I mean, if a backup QB can come into a game and pull a Joe Montana his first meaningful minutes, wouldn’t it be logical that he could continue to win games as he gets more reps in practice and experience on the field?

This is what hope does. It starts small and then continues to build until the small ember becomes of a full-fledged fire.

As I listened to the ND post game show during my drive to the airport on Sunday, I listened to Jack Nolan do this very thing. At the start of the show, he was devastated with the loss of Zaire, stating that making a bowl game would be a realistic outcome. As the show continued, the hope within burned and Nolan began to pump himself up and began to see a potential path to the playoff. A rough path to be sure, but one that wasn’t completely impossible.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t buy-in just a little bit at certain points of the show; however, that could all die next week when Georgia Tech visits South Bend this Saturday. Until then, we will let that hope burn.

Because we never learn.

The post The Tragedy of Hope: A Tale from the Virginia Hillside appeared first on Her Loyal Sons.

Recently, the script for Notre Dame football ends in nightmares.

The 2012 season, and the events that followed after it, serves as a perfect example. After an undefeated season, everything came crashing back down to earth as Alabama demolished the Irish. The destruction of our dreams didn’t end there. The feel-good story of the season, Manti Te’o dealing with the tragic death of his girlfriend and excelling to a Heisman-caliber level of play, transformed into a PR disaster and added the term “catfishing” into many a vocabulary. A few months later, Everett Golson found himself dismissed from Notre Dame.

Granted, 2012 was full of fantastic moments and memories; however, when the time came to close the book on the season, the final pages were filled with nothing less with some of the most awful things that we could imagine.

“Ow, my balls.”

“Hold me, I’m Irish.”

These became better descriptors for Notre Dame football than “Play like a Champion Today” or “Win one for the Gipper.” Good things would happen, but, eventually, the other shoe would drop.

Travelling to Notre Dame this past weekend, I couldn’t help but think the end of the Michigan series would have a similar disappointing and painful end. And, yes, I had these feelings despite the fact that I was confident ND would win comfortably. That’s just what ND football does to my brain.

Just think about everything that happened leading up to this game. Notre Dame finally got to be the one to put a hiatus on the series. The final game would be a home game. Jack Swarbrick stuck it to Michigan by announcing a series with Ohio State in a clear message that there are no plans to revive the series anytime soon.

I will forever remain convinced that Swarbrick firing that final salvo Michigan was in direct response to Michigan’s reaction to the cancellation. Dave Brandon told anyone in the media that would listen of Swarbrick’s cruelty. Brady Hoke began the “chicken” narrative that he damn well knew fans would grasp on to.

Notre Dame couldn’t have asked for a clearer path for final vengeance. They could go 2-1 since the cancellation notice, killing the chicken narrative for anyone with a brain. With Brandon determined to channel his predecessors’ arrogance in ND relations, he all but guaranteed that such a result would stick for the remainder of his tenure. His constituents could beg him for a rematch, but we’d let the phone ring when his name shows up on caller ID.

You couldn’t ask for a better set up for a storybook ending on our end. That meant something had to go wrong.

Truth be told, while 2012 is a great example of our dreams falling back down to earth, 2011 is the bigger culprit, especially in regards to Michigan. 2011 should have gone down as a beautiful ass-kicking of Michigan under the lights if the game had ended after the three quarters. But that fourth quarter was played and instead of a 24-7 win, we had a 35-31 loss.

No loss had ever stung so bad. I had never been so angry about a ND result in my life, Bush Push included.

That game marked the first time that my wife realized I care way too much about ND football. Instead of running for the hills years ago, this Southern Illinois alumna sat next to me on the flight into O’Hare airport, excited to spend a weekend with myself and our friends at Notre Dame whom we hadn’t seen in almost four months at the day of our wedding. As we prepared to take off, the plane stopped mid-taxi and we were informed that we’d be stuck on the runway for an hour and forty-five minutes. Thankfully, the delay was only a half-hour; however, any temporary relief quickly disappeared as our flight was suddenly diverted to St. Louis.

As we waited for O’Hare to give us clearance to resume our flight, I received some text messages from my friends that had arrived in our rental house. A power line by the house went down and half of our block was without power. Soon after, two more members of our eleven person group informed us their flights were cancelled. Soon after that, we received word that he had been cleared once again for takeoff–and right before I put my phone away, I saw on Twitter that Ron Washington, the manager of the Texas Rangers, my other love, had abruptly resigned for “personal reasons” that still aren’t clear today.

What in the hell just happened? An anxious pit in my stomach, born in 2011, resurfaced. Before we took flight again, I expressed my concern on Twitter and saw this reply:

https://twitter.com/IDtheMIKE/status/508055912582742016

Son of a bitch, that’s right. I have to write about this one way or the other. Please be the greatest retribution win ever, please.

The rest of the evening went much smoother than the flight. The house got power back so we didn’t have to drink beer with LED headlamps on anymore. And, of course, it’s Friday night, we are back at Notre Dame, and that means one thing: ‘Backer.

To no surprise, we had to stand in an hour and thirty minute-plus ‘Backer line in the rain since everyone and their uncle was in town for this game, tickets or not. At some point in that slightly miserable existence, I noticed dehydration had kicked in. Fun fact: a steady diet of caffeinated drinks that begins to take over your usual water intake as a result of a hectic work and blogging schedule that further results in little to no sleep will cause your body to start hating you because you have made poor life decisions.

But into the ‘Backer I went and decided double-fisting a long island and water would get me through. That gameplan quickly switched to water-only after swallowing yet another cup of poison, but, dammit, I was going to close this place down tonight. This is my one ‘Backer trip this year.

Yes, body, I know I’m too old for this shit. A smarter person than I would’ve been very concerned that they are unable to sweat in this crowded mass of humanity and left. Unfortunately for you, body, I am drunk and can no longer make good choices. I’m not drunk on ‘Backer long islands, but on being here at Notre Dame, my second home, in the shittiest of all shitty dive bars that I have the deepest of love for because of all kinds of illogical reasons. I’m sure if we asked Joe Theismann, he could come up with the worst quote ever to put on a shirt to describe it, but the point is that I’m going to dance with my wife, hang out with my friends, and pretend I’m 22 for few more hours and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Well, expect for the drinking water part. You win that battle.

See, I have grown up.

Thankfully, I acquiesced to re-hydration demand from my body. I woke up the following morning feeling like a normal person once again. Unfortunately for my poor body, that meant that I was fully ready to tailgate my ass off for about ten hours:

Not pictured: the forty I was drinking during this time and the shotgun that caused the spill on my jersey.

I would come to find out later that posting this picture on social media made a lot of you concerned about my potential well-being for the remainder of the day, including concern that I would fail to make it to the game. Truth be told, even the people with me were questioning my decisions at the time.

Silly people, there would be no way in hell, copious amounts of morning alcohol or not, that I would miss this game.

Sure, my morning sprint required that I take a breather and sober up a bit on the way to campus (and get drunk again while tailgating), but I made it to the stadium, happily buzzed and ready to watch ND beat Michigan. As an added bonus, at this point, my capacity for worry about potentially disastrous things happening on the field was long gone.

Until Everett Golson called a timeout to avoid a delay of game penalty on the very first play of the game.

Okay, that’s a bit rough, but maybe we’ll be fine–oh, nevermind, he had to call yet another time out. Oh, sweet, the drive’s over. 6 plays, 14 yards, and two timeouts dead–all in three minutes and eleven seconds. The efficiency in which we shot ourselves in the foot? Kind of concerning.

Here comes Michigan with three plays and two first downs. Well, I’m sobering up in a hurry now. And now there’s a fourth down conversion. Oh hey, terrible 2011 feelings, there you are again. I didn’t miss you at all, can we please make this stop?

Thankfully, Michigan’s kicker heard my screaming internal dialogue and sends his field goal attempt well wide-right. For once, I’m thankful NBC has long TV timeouts so I can calm the hell down.

Golson returns to the field and, in almost half the time it took Michigan to miss a field goal, puts together an 8 play, 71 yard drive. Joy has returned, but more so, relief. The lead is nice, but taking advantage of a Michigan failure is even better. 10 point swings are good.

Yes, I’m choosing to ignore the fact Notre Dame used it’s last timeout on that drive. Shut up, 2011 feelings, LEAVE ME ALONE.

Michigan begins another drive with promise. That promise dies in a spectacular blaze of glory with a field goal attempt that doesn’t even reach the endzone on the fly. I do not yet know that Michigan’s kicker shanked the attempt so bad ND partially blocked the kick with a facemask because that was apparently where Matt Wile was aiming. All I know from my vantage point is that it’s the worst field goal attempt I’ve seen in recent memory and I’m laughing my ass off.

After trading punts, the Irish are driving towards my seat in overlooking the south endzone. I see Corey Robinson make a wonderful play, diving just short of the endzone. From my vantage point in the corner, I’m slightly offset from the goal line, but I know he isn’t in. Whatever, we will just punch this in from the…three?!

“The previous play is under review.”

Well, thank God. That spot is terrible, B1G refs. I’m glad our new ACC friends in the booth will correct this injustice.

“The ruling on the field stands.”

I hate everything.

The 2011 feelings are back again, taunting me. I tell them to shut up, but they get louder as both Tarean Folston and Golson fail to punch it in the endzone on the next two plays. The jubilant screams of 80,000+ drown them out as Amir Carlisle hauls in a Golson pass for a touchdown.

With only 3:58 left in the half, I know this stand for the defense is beyond crucial. Sheldon Day knows it too. That’s why he shoves a Skunkbear lineman all the way into Devon Gardner who panics, tries to hold on to an attempted pass and fumbles. Notre Dame doesn’t recover, but they didn’t need to. The resulting 3rd and 20 on the 17 yard loss kills the drive.

Notre Dame gets the ball back damn near in Michigan territory thanks to a 12 yard punt return by Cody Riggs. My excitement for seeing an actual Irish punt return quickly subsides as I realize the realty of the situation: Golson has 1:24 left to take the Irish 56 yards and he has no timeouts.

He needs only 50 seconds.

The Irish go into the half up 21-0. I’m beside myself. This doesn’t feel real. The Michigan fans spotted around me are even more stunned than I. They’ve been silent all game, completely shell-shocked by the first half. As the break winds down to a close one mentions that crazier things have happened before in this series. Perhaps Michigan could find a way to come back.

2011 is back. It fled from my body and possessed other people and is now speaking through them. I need this demon slayed in the worst way.

Max Redfield does his best to answer the call. His first career interception couldn’t have come at a better time. Michigan is on the ropes now after their first drive fails in spectacular fashion, unfortunately, their defense counter-punches by giving the Irish their first negative yard drive in the game. The momentum starts to creep towards the Michigan sideline.

But sometimes the unlikeliest of heroes manage to stand. Like Neville Longbottom pulling out the Sword of Griffindor to halt Voldemort’s army, Kyle Brindza and the Irish punt coverage team pin Michigan on the two yard-line. Momentum continues to wear blue and gold.

Michigan can only reach their own 32. They pay for their failure with another Notre Dame touchdown. The score is 28-0, there is 3:02 left in the third quarter. 2011 is nowhere to be found. After another Gardner fumble, like many Michigan fans, 2011 departs from Notre Dame stadium.

Molly, you asked me earlier this week when I started to get greedy and want the shutout. That fumble was the moment. The forth quarter was just around the corner and 28-0 wasn’t enough. A win wasn’t enough. I wanted blood. I wanted the shutout. The entire crowd wanted the shutout.

So did the ND defense. In 2012 Denard Robinson fashion, the next play that Gardner got resulted in an interception. Kyle Brindza adds on three more points for good measure. 31-0.

Michigan doesn’t even cross the 50 again until the forth quarter is well past its halfway point. It’s now 4th and 10 on ND’s 22. Michigan is so close to actually running a play in the red zone for the first time all game. The lone Michigan fan in our section is begging Hoke to play for the field goal. I become slightly aware of Michigan’s scoring streak thanks to his cries. I have no idea this will be the first time Notre Dame will ever pull off the feat. I have no idea that it will be the first time Michigan will be shutout in 365 games and the first time a non-conference opponent will do this to them since the 1920s.

I’m not sure if Brian VanGorder knows. I’m not sure if he cares. He wants the shutout just as much as the Notre Dame faithful that are, in a move not often seen in the stands with a 31 point lead in the forth quarter, all on their feet screaming for blood. VanGorder gives it to them and brings the house. I do not see the fist pump, but it is unknowingly fueling my joy.

https://vine.co/v/OuYHajJMHFh

At this point I see the student section waving. A few minutes earlier, I was hoping we’d sing “Goodbye” to our enemy should this result hold. I’m straining my ears, hoping that’s what’s happening. It was. I join in on the chorus. It is the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.

https://vine.co/v/OuYgia6jdx5

Michigan receives one final chance to save themselves from embarrassment. Gardner delivers his final act of failure, this time into the hands of Elijah Shumate who runs all the way into the endzone. The clock reads 0:00, 37-0. It’s over.

@HLS_NDtex pic.twitter.com/yKfYg1bFQ5

— ??BayouIrish?? (@HLS_BayouIrish) September 7, 2014

I’m jumping around in seats once occupied by Michigan fans. My cracked voice strains to deliver the amount of joy I’m feeling. My wife has as big of a smile on her face as I do and I’m sure she thinks I’m acting like an idiot right now.

I don’t care. Neither does she. We both remember 2011. Fuck 2011. That game is dead, gone, and we will never speak of it again. 2014 is all that matters and Michigan still hasn’t scored.

The B1G officials, however, aren’t aware that the game is done. They have issue with Max Redfield delivering a block to Devin Gardner.

The block is delivered from the side and Redfield hits Gardner square in the front of his shoulder. Michigan fans will later call this a dirty hit and the B1G officials agree. Roughing the passer is called, the touchdown is removed from the board.

And not a single Notre Dame fan in the stadium gives a damn.

We aren’t even aware what the call actually is. We can’t hear the officials and we are too busy laughing at Michigan players sheepishly trotting back on the field so Zaire can run an untimed kneel down. We all have pictures of the 37-0 scoreboard right now and 31-0 isn’t any less embarrassing.

So enjoy that final act of B1G defiance, Michigan. It matters not.

I wouldn’t go to sleep for another 6 hours. I would manage to become drunk again for the third time in 24 hours while enjoying s’mores by our house’s firepit. I would wake up tired and hungover as hell the next morning. Much like that worthless penalty at the end of the game, I didn’t care.

I got my storybook ending. It couldn’t have been written any better if I had penned using my wildest dreams. We beat Michigan–no, we destroyed them. We ended them. They won’t get another shot for years. We got the last laugh.

Michigan went back to the same well they usually do in response. It’s just one game, the B1G title is what really matters after all. Some of the usual suspects tried to rationalize that the loss really wasn’t that bad because, after all, they gained more offensive yards than us!

But Michigan still hasn’t scored.

The End.

The post Notre Dame and Michigan: The End appeared first on Her Loyal Sons.

Before the trip even happened, my sister came down with flu-like symptoms. Since she was home for the holidays, my father and then my mother soon came down with the same illness. Post-Christmas, that house turned into a quarantine zone. Every day was a wellness-check/race to purge whatever the hell had infected my family before the day of our flight.

Fortunately for my dad and my sister, they completed their race. My mom though was still suffering. But she was determined to fight through it. So to the airport we went, ready to head to sunny California.

And we were immediately greeted with a two-hour flight delay.

It could have been worse. We could have been stuck in their for the entire day like the North Dakota fans were that evening. I’m pretty sure most of Fargo re-located to DFW that night. No delay or even cancellation would bring that fanbase down, not after they had just won their own national title the previous day. We hoped that our additional prolonged exposure to championship fans would rub off on us.

Perhaps the way the flight went should have told us otherwise.

——————–

From the moment we took off, the plane was hit with constant turbulence. It wasn’t too big deal for anyone that had done their fair share of air travel, including anyone that has had the joy of flying on the puddle-hoppers from O’Hare to South Bend. However, there was one boy, somewhere around the age of twelve, who simply could not handle the flight. To put it gently, he lost his damn mind.

Screams of “WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME?!”, “WE HAVE TO GO BACK NOW”, “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE”, “I’M GONNA DIE” and other assorted screams of terror filled the plane for the first hour or two of the flight. We came to find out later that the flight attendants and pilots had a serious discussion about performing an emergency landing to remove the child from the plane. The screams were that loud and that constant.

To give you an idea about the volume, both my fiancée and I were finishing up the last episodes of Breaking Bad. I had noise canceling headphones on, volume cranked to max, plane engine drowned out, but that child…that child came in loud and clear. And for someone with a history of anxiety issues myself, watching the last season of Breaking Bad with a child screaming bloody murder at 40,000 feet because of rough turbulence and no hope of alcohol because of suspended beverage service was one hell of a cocktail to consume for most of the flight.

To make things even better, a One Direction reject was sitting right in front of this kid. I call him that because my mom, dad, and sister had the pleasure of sitting in front of him and were treated to this guy name dropping people at “his label” to impress some wannabe-groupie that he met at DFW who, I might add, made some passenger move seats on a full flight so they could sit together. So this genius tries to “calm” this boy down. His way of doing so: “Don’t worry, man, planes rarely crash in mid-air. They crash during takeoff and landing.” The child, realizing, unlike One Direction Reject, that we still had yet to land, completely lost it.

At some point, there we got respite from the screaming as the plane finally seemed to be cruising comfortably. That pleasantry was abruptly ended by the plane taking a rather sizable and sudden drop which legitimately gave me a quick scare. The kid resumed his terror, a passenger two rows in front of us began puking, and the girl setting next to me started shaking, crying, and praying that this plane would allow her to arrive in LA alive.

I’m not sure that I’ve ever been so thankful that a plane landed. I have never wanted off a plane more than that circus of a flight.

But before I could leave, One Direction Reject treated us to one more laugh. His new-found wannabe-groupie wanted his number so they could hang out. His response: “Just Facebook me.”

Welcome to LA!

——————–

After the pure insanity of the flight, I couldn’t help shaking a feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. I shook it off, convinced I was still scarred from the disaster that was the Alabama beatdown I witnessed last January. It was gameday and I was about to mark off a bucket list sports venue with a trip to the Rose Bowl.

Irish fandom doesn’t disappear when wearing orange.

This gameday’s activities though were going to be decidedly different than my usual tailgating habits. With my mom still very much under the weather, we were going to collectively all take it very easy. We decided to get to the game a couple of hours early and just take in the sights of the Rose Bowl before Auburn arrived and maybe have a hot dog or two and enjoy the beautiful California weather.

Two out of three of those actually happened. We were immediately struck by how corporate the entire event had become. If you didn’t have your own tailgate planned, bought a ticket for an “official” tailgate, or had an invite to a corporately sponsored tailgate (all held in its own fenced-off area), you weren’t even getting a cup of tap water until you entered the stadium. However, you were more than welcome to purchase all kinds of official BCS Championship merchandise a multiple kiosks in the area.

We found a spot in the shade, along the same fences keeping us out of the fancy corporate tailgates. My dad mentioned how much the corporate transformation reminded him of what the Super Bowl has become. He remembered being able to scrape enough money together to head to Super Bowl X in 1976 and an extremely expensive secondary market is really the only way for a casual fan to enter that kind of a game these days. The BCS games have long since been heading in that direction, but just not to the same extreme. At the time of the game though, rumors were circling around the Dallas area that the 2015 College Playoff Championship at Jerry World would head heavily in that direction. A couple of weeks later, the local newspaper confirmed that the cheapest ticket currently available was $1,900 for a “premium” package that included some pregame activities like the fenced off tailgates behind us.

As far as the value for a “normal” ticket, we will have to wait and see, but the future looks less and less fan friendly every year. There was a distinct feeling from both my father and I that the tickets we got to a game in California would be far easier and more affordable to obtain than a game in our own back yard.

——————–

Here’s the most obvious part of this piece: The Rose Bowl is an incredible venue.

When you walk to your seat inside the stadium, that is all there is: the seats and the field (and a jumbotron). Concessions and bathrooms all live outside the stadium proper in a concourse reminiscent of a state fair. The surrounding mountain background looks as if it was a painting. I bleed blue and gold, but I do not envy the job Brain Kelly and his staff have recruiting against UCLA would can claim that field as their home.

Pre-game, it was clear that Auburn had the numbers advantage in the stands. I would wager it was somewhat around a two-thirds majority. And they were LOUD, cheering anything Auburn that popped up on the jumbotron, going especially nuts when replays of their Alabama and Georgia miracle wins aired.

The most SEC thing ever: Duck Dynasty in attendance.

I also experienced what I like to call the most SEC thing ever pre-game: a member of the Duck Dynasty family sat a few rows behind us with his wife.

When the game kicked off, it felt like it was going to be the reverse of what I witnessed last year. Auburn was simply owning the game. They were going at a strangely slower pace than they had all season, most likely trying to keep the ball out of Heisman winner, Jameis Winston’s, hands.

Winston though looked like a deer in the headlights. It wasn’t until the end of the half to where he looked even somewhat comfortable being in this game. Still, Auburn had a commanding 21-10 lead going into the half and it felt like twice that. We, and all Auburn fans, felt beyond comfortable with the result.

We were all so incredibly wrong.

——————–

Now is probably a good time to introduce you to the Auburn fans sitting directly in front of me, Bobby Dale Jr. and his friends. I never really meet Bobby Dale Jr., but his drunk friends were seemingly screaming his name every thirty seconds.

So what kind of guy is Bobby Dale Jr.? As one of his friends put it, they “are all on the short bus to hell” and Bobby Dale Jr. was the driver.

I’m not sure if Bobby Dale Jr. and his friends really remember anything that happened at the game. It seemed someone from their group was bringing multiple fresh beers every five minutes or so. At the prices the Rose Bowl was charging, I would not doubt that they spent somewhere between $200-$300 dollars before the game was over.

Bobby Dale Jr. also had a blonde girl next to him. We initially thought it was his girlfriend until we randomly heard “WAIT! YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND YOU’RE HITTING ON ME?!” out of nowhere. That didn’t stop Bobby Dale Jr. or her as there were multiple drunken sloppy make out sessions throughout the game.

I felt like I had been transported into a dorm party planted into the middle of just the biggest college football game of the season. I was snapped back to reality that this guy was in fact, twice the age of a college student as his ex-wife apparently called him multiple times (after I believe he drunk dialed her). He later eloquently stopped answering her calls with an “F*ck her, she burned my ass” and then proceeded to make out again with the blonde girl a few minutes later.

At one point Bobby Dale Jr. asked my father for my sister’s hand in marriage. My father responded with a resounding no. When asked for a reason why, his response was simply “why do you think?!” I am 100% convinced that Bobby Dale Jr. failed to figure out why his sloppy drunk ass was not a desirable lifelong partner.

Bobby Dale and his group of friends annoyed practically everyone — it didn’t matter if it was an Auburn or Florida State fan. I know every fanbase has their brand of idiots, but it is quite a rare treat to be presented with the bottom of the barrel in such circumstances.

——————–

I guess I should bring up how Florida State fans acted after Bobby Dale Jr.’s antics.

I wasn’t around any that caused any problems and my section and I got fair exposure as our section was pretty well split, only slightly outnumbering FSU fans. They did however provide their own moments of entertainment.

One inebriated FSU fan attempted to climb a railing to take a shortcut to his seat below. His first attempt failed miserably, somehow falling backwards and away from his seat. The second attempt didn’t far much better and had the same result. By now, most of our section and a few rows of the one below were watching this hilarious display of motor function. His third attempt was a charm and drew a nice cheer from Auburn and FSU fans alike.

Superb halftime entertainment to say the least.

The only other incident of note in my area was an FSU couple arguing with an Auburn couple some time in the third quarter. I have no idea about what, but fans immediately behind them were recording the whole thing and dying laughing. Whatever happened, the Auburn fans lost as security gave them the boot. However they did manage to find some Auburn fans to harbor them for the remainder of the game.

Bobby Dale Jr. and his friends.

——————–

During the second half, the BCS fat cats decided to bring our attention to the 25-yard line to salute the creator of the BCS. It seemed rather strange and just a bit ironic as well.

A video package played on the jumbotron, chronicling the creation of the BCS and praising its successes. The proud father of the BCS stood and watched the glory of his creation. A creation that he would then be forced to watch come to an abrupt end.

Congrats and thanks for creating the BCS! Here’s your award, now watch your greatest achievement die right before your eyes.

——————–

Any comfortable feelings about the game left with 10:55 left in the fourth quarter as an FSU TD took the once 18-point Auburn lead down to a single point.

Winston was seemingly gaining confidence on every play and looking every bit like a Heisman winner. The Auburn defense was now the one looking like the deer in the headlights. They were worn down, gassed, at a loss for how to stop an FSU drive.

Auburn’s offense responded with a long, dominating drive that ended just short. While a touchdown would’ve certainly made everyone feel a lot better, Auburn had a bit of swagger back. It was as if they sent a message to the Seminoles: “this game is ours and we can turn it on whenever we want.”

There was only 4:42 left in the game. Surely, the Auburn defense could find a way to hold on that long.

Then this happened:

http://youtu.be/ihlAvKHZYYk

I never saw the Auburn player fall on the kickoff, but I could still see the impending disaster. I had seen too many Notre Dame kickoff coverages fail far too often.

Kickoff was down the middle and the near-side members of the Auburn team moved in to swarm. On the far sideline though, lane integrity was compromised. I could the lane opening from my seat, I sure as hell knew Kermit Whitfield saw it. As soon as he made his initial cut I let out an audible “oh shit” and watched in horror as he finished his 100 yard TD return.

I’ve never seen a fanbase deflate so quickly. It was “ow my balls” a thousand-fold for them. Even I felt like I received the same kick everyone else did. The slight hope of Auburn putting up a fight on defense turned into sheer terror that Florida State just struck a blow Auburn couldn’t recover from.

Tre Mason clearly did not suffer from that terror. Leaving only 1:19 on the clock, Mason put Auburn back on top 31-27. Hope was back, even with “too much time” screaming in the back of my mind.

It turns out it was indeed too long — 13 seconds to be exact.

FSU and its fans went crazy. Auburn attempted one final shot at a miracle and failed.

——————–

Perhaps with some better blocking, it would’ve worked. Perhaps one less Auburn tunrover makes the difference. Perhaps not missing a field goal in the first half gives Auburn a chance at an overtime shootout. Perhaps if Auburn makes one more defensive play during the final drive, the clock runs out on FSU.

All the possibilities drive you insane, especially during a long walk back.

As we walked out, the smell of fresh-grilled hot dogs immediately hit my nose. The very same area in which we couldn’t find a snack to save our lives was now filled with multiple vendors selling hot dogs and drinks for cheap. I probably would have partaken in one too had my own stomach not been turned by the end result.

A store selling official BCS gear about a quarter of a mile from the nearest official kiosk by the stadium was selling all inventory for 50% off. This even included a collectible coin that I got my sister for Christmas.

History had been made, the BCS was dead, and now it’s on clearance.

——————–

The next morning my fiancée, my sister, and I took a stroll down the Santa Monica Pier to end our vacation.

Auburn fans were still out in force still exchanging “War Eagle” to each other as they passed, even the morning after a rough loss. My sister had made peace with the loss as well. After the season that Auburn had, getting the title game was a miracle in itself. Come so close was brutal, but she still considered the season a success.

After we arrived at the end of the Santa Monica Pier, the end of Route 66, our vacation had come to an end. It was time to head back and bid California as well as the BCS farewell.

As we left the pier, we saw Cirque du Soleil beginning construction tents for a show. One circus left town and another swooped in to replace it.

And college football will be ready to do it again next year.

The post Witnessing the Death of the BCS appeared first on Her Loyal Sons.

With all that I had planned for this football weekend, I figured the actual game would be the least of my worries.

Boy, was I dead wrong.

For this football weekend, I decided to take my girlfriend’s parents with us to the game. Her father, a Pitt alum, had always loved Notre Dame, but knew he couldn’t afford to go. Neither of us had any idea just how much love he had for ND though until we brought him back a hat from a football game last year. He immediately put it on and couldn’t stop talking to us about ND. His wife also seemed enchanted by the idea of one day setting foot on campus.

I knew I had to get them out there and this past weekend seemed like the perfect time to go.

We arrived on campus Friday evening and I played tour guide. It’s always interesting to watch the reactions of someone walking on campus for the first time, especially someone who thought the possibility alone was a dream. Actually, check that — it’s a joy, reminding me of my first time on the campus and forcing me to remember just how special my time was there.

I couldn’t have asked for a better start to the weekend. Even organizing lodging for the four of us was a breeze thanks to our friends at Rent Like a Champion. Securing a nice, cozy house managed to impress them — especially since they thought I put in a ton more work than a few clicks on RLAC’s website. The house also had a grill so we set up a small tailgate to kick off our Saturday. Add on the fact that we were just a 15 minute walk to the stadium and I was golden.

So initial earning of brownie points: success.

Of course, no true ND gameday experience is complete without heading to the stadium and JACC lots. One of the managers in my class had a tailgate set up so we stopped by to give them a little taste of the ND tailgating atmosphere (and by extension, just how drunk managers can get when gathered together).

Everything was going according to plan. Everyone was enjoying themselves. All that was left to enjoy a nice stress-free Notre Dame victory. As Notre Dame opened the game with a decent drive and FG, I still felt as if all would be well.

Then Ray Graham took off for 55 yards and I felt like another charge of assault was needed.

Even then, though, I had little panic. Even after Brindza missed a FG, I was still fairly calm. It wasn’t until the combination of an overturned Irish TD turning into a FG followed by a Ray Graham TD until worry started to creep in. When Tommy Rees flashed back to 2011 and threw an INT, I started to worry. When that INT turned into seven more Pitt points, I was in full panic mode.

It seemed as if the entire stadium joined me. Voices came from all directions as to who the next QB should be, and no one could settle on a unanimous choice. Even Hendrix’s name was floated out by more than one fan in my section. “Here we go again”, “Why does ND always do this”, and “REALLY, WE ARE GOING TO LOSE TO PITT?!” joined in soon after.

Down by 14 in the third quarter’s waning moments, Everett Golson started to give us all hope with a TD drive. The defense held and despite being pinned on his own two yard line, Golson looked ready to complete the improbable comeback. He started to transcend and let his natural talent take over. No one open? No problem, he’s running for the first. Leave someone open, he’s going to find them. It was the very thing I talked about during the offseason, Golson was displaying the one thing that a felt Rees lacked. Golson had “it”.

2nd and goal. Golson drops back and I see Niklas find a small window in the corner of the endzone. Golson sees it too and I see him wind back to throw. I know if he just lofts it to the far corner pylon, its an easy TD.

There’s no loft, no touch, it’s an easy INT and Notre Dame football has just delivered yet another gut punch.

With 3:59 left, some fans have apparently seen enough. A small exodus begins and I’m in absolute shock. Yes, things look bleak, but this is far from over. Are some of our fans really this ready to jump off the bandwagon? Hasn’t our defense showed us enough this season to at least convince us that there is a good chance the offense will get one last shock?

Whatever, let the small group leave. The stadium is still near capacity and this game ain’t over yet.

Pitt goes for the kill and ND gives up nothing, forcing Sunseri to throw the ball away. Then a fumbled snap. Then “Crazy Train”…

…by the way, as much as Notre Dame initially butchered the use of piped-in music against USC last season, this season has improved by leaps and bounds. It’s now to the point where “Crazy Train” has been reclaimed from punchline to the serious, go-to song to get the crowd in full throat. The transformation has been incredible. The stadium simply exploded when Ozzy’s voice hit the PA and the resulting incomplete pass sent the crowd into a frenzy.

Golson came out with a chance to redeem himself. The first play looked like an initial disaster as Golson seemed to run around the pocket forever. Then he launched a bomb right into the hands of DaVaris Daniels. Somehow, a play destined for failure turned into a 45 yard gain. Theo Riddick then found himself open for a short Golson TD strike to bring the Irish within a two-point conversion of saving their undefeated season.

Ball snapped, play broke down yet again. No matter, Golson again found a way and ran it in himself.

The crowd again exploded in one of the loudest cheers I’ve heard at ND stadium in quite a while. For the first time all game, my section was moved to do pushups. Personally, I went positively nuts and had a similar reaction that I did when Quinn and Sameardzija kept their BCS hopes alive with a last second TD against UCLA in 2006 (another game that ended up harder than expected).

Overtime was no easier on the emotions. Especially when I was convinced Cierre Wood leaped in for a TD, only to see Pitt celebrate a fumble recovery. I was positively sick. I knew the odds, it would take a miracle for ND to survive to a third OT.

That miracle arrived.

Pitt was convinced the FG was in the bag. Their entire sideline rushed onto the field and stood stunned as the kick sailed wide right. They looked like they had seen a ghost. The echoes had awoken and they were the victims this night.

The mystique that had once been lost at ND Stadium was back. No matter what Pitt did it wasn’t enough. No matter how many mistakes ND made, it didn’t help. There would be a third OT and once again Pitt could only manage a field goal.

Everett Golson came out and finished his comeback.

9-0.

It was far from the expected outcome. The result certainly didn’t advance the Irish national title hopes, but it didn’t destroy them either. As I said on Friday, the Irish just have to win, no matter what and no matter how ugly.

The unexpected should really be the expected in this crazy sport. While the other three title hopefuls may have held serve, that doesn’t mean it will be the norm for the rest of the season. In fact, Kansas State might just have entered their nightmare scenario as their MVP and Heisman hopeful, QB Collin Klein suffered an injury and his status for this weekend is unknown.

College football simply doesn’t always go as planned and Notre Dame squeaking by Pitt is a prime example of it. Despite that, this weekend was one of the more memorable ones that I’ve ever had at ND. My girlfriend’s parents got one hell of an experience for their first trip too.

Enjoy the ride on this “Crazy Train”.

The post Not Quite As Planned appeared first on Her Loyal Sons.