8) The Miracle of South Bend “Impossible Things Are Happening Every Day” - Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella Delta Airlines was up to its old tricks. They’d changed flights on me at the last minute before and now they telephoned to change my departure time for the second time in two weeks. This time, they called to make changes just two hours before my taxi was scheduled to arrive. Now that I think about it, I don’t believe that I’ve ever taken a “scheduled” Delta flight that actually went somewhere on time and arrived where it was supposed to go. I guess this must be better than Northwest Airlines though…they were the airline that I originally had tickets for, but they went on strike; then they went bankrupt; then they melded into Delta as seamlessly as a wart on a frog… Our flight finally got off the ground after midnight and we rode through the night for six hours of shear Hell in the smallest seats their accountants and torturers could cram in there. We sat in the back, in the very last seats, with the kerosene smell of aviation fuel and vulgar stewardesses who appeared giddy and careless from the fumes. A small Japanese couple from Hawaii, who had been riding the same plane for 5,000 miles, claimed that this was the worst airline they’d ever seen with seats so small that even they felt squeezed the entire way, and they were half our size… Atlanta looked like an armed camp with all of the soldiers coming and going in uniform. The helpful Delta staff offered to give us a quick connect to Indianapolis and like a fool I said, “Sure.” Then I discovered that this same connecting flight left in 20 minutes: the security line waiting was longer than that. Thanks to everybody being late though, it didn’t matter. There was no way any Delta plane was going to take off to anywhere until the very last credit card wielding sucker had been shoehorned in there. I was beginning to get their measure. Ethiopian Airlines must be run something like this, but with more food on board. The only thing that I saw these people do right was after we landed at Indianapolis. The captain asked the passengers to please remain in their seats until two U.S. soldiers were allowed to get off first, as they were returning from the war in Iraq and hadn’t seen their families in more than a year. Both young men exited the plane to a great ovation from passengers on both sides of the aisle. It was a genuinely touching scene right out of a Norman Rockwell painting… The trip upstate was uneventful. We even found our favorite (only?) Mexican restaurant in Rochester, Indiana, which had changed its name from Margarita’s to Alejandra’s. The Econolodge Airport Motel in South Bend brought us back to the reality of cheap travel though. Room 307 was so far out back in the dark that even the winos didn’t dare to wander back there. It had a hole in the wall bigger than a dinner plate and I could have easily punched through to the adjoining room. A broken lamp shade had been recycled as a hanging light, which was a decorative touch, the toilet didn’t work and the door didn’t lock. I would rate these accommodations somewhere between Patel’s Palace and a pup tent. We did finally obtain some fresh air by running the air conditioner… Friday night at the Mishawaka Brewing Company was a good time again. We had a big turnout for this one. The Gipper snuck away for an appearance and the O’Keefe clan was there with Terry, Doug, Brian, and Mark. ElPaso Tim was there with Brian (The Blazin’ Asian himself) and his sister, whom I had never met before and her husband Lance. Stephen Finn was there and he helped me sample the Four Horsemen ale through several rounds. All was well, except for a couple of UCLA fans in the restroom who took exception to my comments that “Bruin fans don’t travel well.” They offered themselves as proof that Bruin fans do indeed travel and mentioned that they had also once traveled all the way to San Diego to watch their beloved team. When I pointed out that nearly every patron in the saloon had come from out of state to watch the Irish and that I too had come from California to watch them they simply didn’t believe me. The entire “Irish thing” was out of their experience. They just didn’t get it. But the following day would change that… As we drove to the campus, we still had one, tiny problem: no tickets. Two blocks from the parking spot that the O’Keefe’s had happily provided for us at the last minute, I pulled alongside a fellow waving two tickets. He asked $400 for the pair of them and I paid him in cash, as this was the lowest price I had seen on StubHub. Incredibly, my nice, polite wife thanked him and looked grateful for his help! I was reminded of Marie Antoinette. When she was executed, she accidentally stepped on the executioner’s foot and apologized to him. He thanked her for her manners, and then cut her head off. I had just been scalped for $400 bucks and we’re thanking this guy? Holy cow! The tailgate was pretty darn good, considering the absence of both Gipper and Irish Dave who have proven to be formidable BBQers in the past. The young guys filled in and I thought they did great. Everybody ate the food without complaint and the truth is; it was good. The beer was cold, the talk was good and we even got poisonous updates from Chico in Alabama. Every time Nebraska scored on Texas, he updated Terry’s cell phone and I think Doc didn’t realize that the LHorns has won until it stopped ringing. He knew that bad news would have traveled faster than that… The Gentry’s scored the first miracle of the day when they landed some tickets at the last minute. Tim and Brian had spent most of the day and tailgate time waiting in line to see if anyone had turned in at least four unwanted tickets. About an hour before kickoff, someone turned in eight! This not only gave them tickets, but tickets sitting together, and at face value! So now everybody had a seat for the game, and what a game it was… Our seats were located in Row 13, right behind the UCLA band, with the corner of the endzone pointing directly at us. So much for Bruin fans traveling. The clown who bought these seats in Westwood probably traveled as far as Pasadena to sell them to the scalper who sold them to me. They were part of the 5,000 basic seats allotted to the Bruins back home and I was surrounded by other Irish fans that enjoyed the betrayal just as much as I did… The game itself held few surprises for me. UCLA is young and good: especially on defense. As early as the first quarter other Irish fans around me were marveling at the speed of the Bruin LBs and DBs. From our angle, we could watch holes open up, then close just as quickly. Walker couldn’t run around them or go much further than a few steps after getting the ball. The Irish became the fifth Bruin opponent in seven games to be held under 60 rushing yards in total! Their Dbacks covered everything with man coverage most of the game and Quinn had no open receivers. These guys are good. Karl Dorrell had replaced his entire defensive coaching staff after last season and most of the new guys had NFL experience and it showed… The Bruin offense, like the defense is very young, but talented. Patrick Cowan is almost as good as Ben Olsen and WR Junior Taylor is a pro prospect. The line is solid and all together the team is starting 16 juniors, on a roster that has only six seniors… The Bruin fans were mostly on their best behavior, except for the one black fellow who tried to sit in the middle of them, in the third row, with a USC hat on. Big mistake. He took increasing amounts of verbal abuse and withstood showers of ice, soda bottles and poison darts until finally, the UCLA band stopped playing and demanded that he be removed or killed. The poor ND ushers seemed amused by the incident and confused by the request of the various Chicanos, surfers and band members to help them murder the offender. At last, the victim was allowed to stay and watch the game in his seat: without the hat… The Irish had more surprises for me than UCLA did. George West is bigger than I thought he would be and David Grimes is smaller. They’re both just a little bigger than Darius Walker. Freshman Sam Young is a monster and his backup, sophomore Paul Duncan is almost as big. Terrail Lambert is looking pretty darn good at CB and Ambrose Wooden is now the nickel back after losing his position. We still have only two good LBs and that remains the biggest problem… The game itself was a defensive struggle. Irish expectations had the crowd groaning through most of the game, but a quick glance at the stats show that Notre Dame held a substantial advantage in every statistical category, except the scoreboard. This was old-fashioned Gutty Little Bruin football and maybe now Irish fans have a better understanding of what that means. They feared nothing and tossed the kitchen sink as they did in the days before Bob Toledo turned them into a flying circus without a defense. For them, a return to old ways is happening too… By the time of the final drive, Irish fans were beyond desperation. Most had been scowling all day, with little to cheer about. Their hopes had been dashed so many times, that resignation was beginning to set in and yet, almost no one left. Over 80,000 stayed home, in their seats, believing, hoping and praying for what none of them had ever seen, except in the Notre Dame of their dreams and old black & white movies. This time, the boys really were up against it. All appeared to be lost. There was no time left. There was no luck left. There was nothing at all except an unspoken, unapologetic, sincere belief in foolish miracles…and then Charlie Weis unleashed the dragon… On first down, and 1:02 on the clock, Brady Quinn found Jeff Samardzija for a 21 yard gain. I glanced at the ticking clock and began to plead and beg out loud like a small child. “For God sake run the plays!” On second down and the new rules draining away our season, Quinn hit Grimes on another out route, as the team ran its “two-minute” drill as it always did: with the WRs running deep out-routes to stop the clock in segments. “Get to the line!” I screamed, as my begging was drowned out by 80,000 other beggars. On third down, Quinn faded to pass, faked to Samardzija on a crossing pattern, and then continued to roll to his right and finally threw it to the tall WR just before he went out to stop the clock; only this time, it wasn’t a clock stopper. Samardzija slammed on the brakes! Three Bruin LBs and DBs slid by him as he cut inside. My heart sank! I thought “This will never work!” “He has too far to go!” “The clock will run out!” He found some daylight and took a hit from Dennis Keyes, the former Irish recruit who turned down Notre Dame to go Hollywood and now had his wish. Some day, when they make the movie, the actor playing him will lay there on the grass at the feet of Touchdown Jesus and wonder at the irony of it all, after the actor who plays Samardzija smashes him off his feet too. The hit made Samardzija stumble. My heart sank again in fear as it appeared certain that he would fall several yards short of the goal as the safeties swooped in for the kill. I began to scream hysterically as he regained his balance and headed for the goal line! The safeties attempted to knock the ball away from him, but like a bullfighter using his cape, he held out the ball for them, then switched it to his other hand as he crossed, leaving only his empty hand for them to abuse. And then, like a magician who had just pulled the wabbit from out of his hat, he stopped, smiled and held the ball in both hands for the fans to see, and then gently let it fall away to the ground… I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed, in the south endzone, right in front of my face. I along with 80,000 others went completely berserk. I began screaming, “It’s a miracle!” “I have lived long enough to see a real miracle!” The explosion of that crowd and their general hysteria was like nothing I have seen in my life. I’ve been to rock festivals and ball games all my life and parades that had two million yelling people, but nothing, nothing, I have ever experienced was like this. This was Bedlam! This was the end of the rainbow! If Pat O’Brien had taken the field to kick the extra point, with Ronald Reagan holding for him I wouldn’t have been surprised. If St. Patrick himself had surfed into the stadium on a wave of holy water screaming “The Irish are Coming Ya Bastards!” I wouldn’t have even blinked. This was beyond all of that. For only the second time in Notre Dame History, the Fighting Irish had come from behind, at home, in the final 30 seconds to win the game. In a movie yet to be made, Charlie Weis, Brady Quinn and Jeff Samardzija had achieved what Irish fans had only dared to dream of: they had brought down the thunder from the sky… The crowd frenzy continued unabated. It continued through commercials, through the kickoff, through the play which sacked poor (real Irishman) Patrick Cowan. The crowd frenzy went on and on and on for several minutes. When I ran out of sensible things to yell or scream; I just began to yell as loud as I could. All around, the picture was the same. Mass crowd hysteria on the grand scale such as rarely seen in free countries or in the sports of countries not named Argentina or Brazil. I kept yelling until my voice began to fade and the crowd did not even begin to calm down until the band played the alma mater… The few UCLA fans didn’t move either. They sat down in shock, with many putting their heads in their hands and a few of the young ones crying. They’d seen it all so many times before. They’re always the sidekick and never the star. They’re always second fiddle to some other master of the universe. They’ve lost three games this season, all on the road. Karl Dorrell’s record against ranked teams on the road is 0-12. They’re always good, but never good enough and now…it had happened again. On the biggest stage in college football; their latest failure, pure and naked, for the entire world to see. They were devastated and they haven’t recovered yet… As the crowd finally left the stadium, I walked over to the JACC to use the restroom and I heard a voice saying, “Hey JO’Co!” I turned around and there was Stephen Finn! He had decided to attend the game after all, so he walked over from the Morris Inn and on the way he met a teenager who gave him two tickets just as the game was kicking off! He gave the kid some money for them anyway, so he had seen the whole thing in person too! This was typical of a day when miracles seemed to be raining down on the Irish from every conceivable direction… Still stunned by the enormity of what we had seen, we drove out to Between the Buns. There we found our intrepid Buckeye brothers, Stu and Gerry, sitting at the bar drinking beer where they had been since 9:00 that morning. They explained to me what perfect seats they had, located right on the end of the bar, in front of their own TV to watch the games, within easy reach of the waitresses as they passed back into the liquor area. They also were engrossed in what they felt was the biggest upset of the day: Stanford was beating USC 16-0 in the 3rd quarter! I looked at the game with some suspicion, as it didn’t look right and I didn’t recognize any of the Trojan players. Finally I saw a face that I did recognize: it was John Robinson. I explained to them that they had been watching the Classic Sports Channel and the game between USC and Stanford had been played 15 years ago. In a rare concession, they agreed to get something to eat and talk about something other than Ohio State or Purdue football. The food seemed to help. It had vitamins in it and everything... It was a day when the veil between dreams and reality was very thin indeed and when it was over I had to reflect that the greatest miracle of all is to have friends like these. It’s an honor to know them all. ………………..JO’Co The Miracle of South Bend
What a wonderful account! You are the unchallenged champion of writers on this BB. You should submit this account to Reader's Digest... Oh yeah, nice room you had there. 8)
absolute classic Jim..as Krebs said, should be published. Maybe start with LA Times and then you might get calls from other publications. jiffer
So was the game any good? Never did see who won the Stanford-USC game... Purdue football...not much to talk about. Ohio State...did you hear how many tOSU fans it takes to change a light bulb?....Five....One to change the bulb and four to talk about the '68 team.
Great Post!!! remember back in the Davie days when he doubted that anything was going to come down from the sky? He didn't believe, so it never happened!! Terry
Great stuff! Jo'co is a literary genius and should be writing for ESPN. I'm late for an appointment because I had to finish reading it ! Second time Jim, You forgot 1992 ! :cry:
miracle at SB <r>Jim!<br/> <br/> As I was reading your acccount of the game I got goosebumps and started yelling again like I was still at the game!! I still have to pinch myself to see if I didn't dream it all!!! No, I'm not dreaming, there was a miracle at Notre Dame Stadium and we were THERE to see it!!!!! Yes!! <E></E> <br/> <br/> Thanks Jim for the read. You truely are THE man when it comes to descriptive verse!! <E>8)</E> <br/> <br/> It was good to see all the old Prodigy group that were able to make it this year. God Bless you all. <E></E></r>
JO'Co, great stuff! Stu and Whobe......outstanding performance. I couldn't have done better myself!!!!! That said, JO'Co owes me a new laptop.....mine shorted out as my morning coffee got spewed all over the keyboard as I read....."John Robinson!" Great stuff....
LOL..... <t>JO'Co,<br/> <br/> Been waiting for this all week. Great report. What an ending. I sat there stunned at what happened to end that game.</t>
Wow. :shock: Great read, JO'Co. Thanks for sharing such a tremendous story. Congratulations to the Irish on the win.
Wow even after 37 years he never ceases to amaze me.... I wish I knew who to send this to so it could get published....... Thanks joco I had a great time as always when we are back there.. like we said it seems like home to us......
Thanks everyone. AJNJ is right. This was the second time that Notre Dame has come from behind at home with less than 30 seconds left: not the first. I've corrected the mistake in the post and whats most amazing is that I have a picture of that game directly above the monitor that I'm using, but I didn't glance at it when I wrote the post... .............JO'Co
BobW... Hey, it was the best game of the day....at least I wasn't the one who asked 'em to put it on the closer TV so we could see it better. :?
IF..... <t>You can get this weeks issue of SI as it has a full page picture of Jeff S coming at you as he crosses the goal line. What a picture. What treasure of a day for the memory bank for you Irish fans that were there.</t>
Fantastic, JO'Co, I look forward every year to reading about your adventures going to the annual Notre Dame gathering. And what a great game, I'm still having trouble believing how it ended. Now about that Sam Young guy, he was supposed to be a lock to be a Gator and we want him back! :roll: :roll: :roll: :roll: Congratulations on a great report and I'm sure a great time that all of you had.
Great report.....I guess :twisted: The only thing I can offer in my defense is ......that is the longest I've sat in a pub since St. Paddy's 1974(I had just gotten out of the Army) OK so I got suck in by ESPN classics.....damn it you saw my tab! as if it wouldn't fool you after that :lol: Now excuse me as I have to have the bomb squad check out a package that appeared on my doorstep. Good report buddy!!!!!!