The Notre Dame experience begins with the drive into campus
through a residential neighborhood with perfectly manicured lawns
and families tailgating in front of their midsize homes. You get
the feeling that most of these people grew up within walking
distance of Notre Dame Stadium and never left.
After parking on the side of someone’s house for $20, you
make your way toward campus. It seems as if everyone is wearing the
jersey of their favorite player. There’s at least one No. 10
for every redheaded kid. That’s a lot of Brady Quinns.
Exploring the campus consisting entirely of old, brick
buildings, there are student groups hawking hamburgers, hot dogs
and the freedom of one freshman who’s duct-taped to a tree
wearing a T-shirt and shorts. It’s about 55 degrees.
You head toward Notre Dame Stadium ““ the mecca of college
football. Passing through the tall gates of the outer entrance, you
get your first glimpse of the original brick exterior of the
stadium before it was renovated in 1997. The building oozes
tradition.
It’s like a small museum dedicated solely to the Fighting
Irish. There are golden helmets for every All-American, posters of
every Heisman Trophy winner and first-timers gawking at the
magnitude of tradition that lives here.
You make your way into the UCLA section and join 5,000 other
Bruin fans in the upper reaches of one end zone. Peering over the
rim of the stadium, you see tailgaters about as far as you can see.
Looking toward the field, Touchdown Jesus spreads his arms over the
opposite end of the stadium.
There are no Jumbotrons or advertisements, just two small
scoreboards and the field, sandwiched by 50 yards of yellow flowers
on either side between the fans and sidelines. The end zones are
even old-fashioned ““ no writing, just 10 diagonal hash marks.
This is how it should be ““ no distractions, just the
game.
The Notre Dame band pours out of the far end zone in step to its
“Victory March,” one of the best fight songs in college
sports. The sense of pride and history is palpable.
In a classy and surprising move, the band turns toward the UCLA
section and plays “Sons of Westwood.”
A Notre Dame fan in his early 70s sits next to you. He spent
three days driving to the game from Pittsburgh ““ probably the
only time he will make the trip this season. He is just one out of
the nation of Notre Dame fans that were born into rooting for Knute
Rockne and the powerhouse Irish teams of the ’20s and
’30s. He will watch his Irish play from the middle of the
UCLA section.
The Fighting Irish storm the field to an uproarious applause
from the crowd and immediately head toward the far end zone where
they take off their helmets, take a knee and say a prayer.
The game starts and there’s nowhere you’d rather be.
Every play is tense, every third down is noisier than the one
before it, and both teams are playing their hearts out.
Before you know it, it’s halftime and the Bruins are
clinging to a 14-10 lead after a brilliant defensive stop, holding
the Irish to a field goal. It’s too early and there’s
too much time left to get your hopes up for an upset.
Fast forward to the fourth quarter ““ 1:02 left. You feel
good about the outcome of this game, but you don’t say
anything. There’s still a lot of time left.
Quinn completes a couple passes and stops the clock. The crowd
is going nuts. A second later Jeff Samardzija has the ball, heading
for the end zone ““ no one stops him. The stadium explodes
with noise. Hundreds of Notre Dame students are lifted into the air
by their peers. You can’t speak. You wonder if what you just
saw actually happened.
One last chance with the ball. Cowan’s sacked. Game
over.
The man next to you raises his arms above his head in silent
celebration.
You mill around for a while, watching UCLA players being
consoled by their families. This game was a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity and in about half a minute, it was gone.
The Notre Dame fans are all class. No one says anything except
for how great of a game it was while they shake their heads, as if
knowing they should not have won.
But, if you had to lose one, falling to the tradition, pride and
class that Notre Dame represents is all you can ask for. You know
this was an experience you will never forget.
E-mail Feder at jfeder@media.ucla.edu if you don’t
regret making the trip to South Bend either.