I do not, nor have I ever, pretended to know a lot about football. I never bothered to learn anything about it in high school, although, I'm not sure I missed more than ten games my entire HS career-- home or away. I was more interested in "the beer cheer" and what everyone else was wearing to get involved in the actual watching of the game. Although I was clueless, the bulk of the time, I was dressed from head to toe in green and white-- including, sometimes, my face and hair. No one suspected a thing.
I dated my share of footballers, and I still have to say that I learned nary a fact about the sport. My brother played football, as well. Nope. Still didn't care. I cheered when everyone on my side stood up and cheered, and I played the part well. I wish I had paid more attention.
I still found myself with the usual dramas and dilemmas... which team do I like and support. I chose favorite professional teams when I was six. My thoughtful uncle tried to teach me all about the teams. He would quiz me. Who they were, where they were from, what their mascots were. I chose as any self-respecting six-year-old girl would have. Who had cheerleaders? Who had nice uniforms? And who had mascots of animals I liked. My short list was: the Dallas Cowboys (cheerleaders with neat boots and blue stars!), the Cincinnati Bengals (animal/cheerleaders), the Seattle Seahawks (animal/cheerleaders), and the Denver Broncos (animals)... I briefly admired the Baltimore Colts (animal, cheerleaders, beach) but soon forgot about them. Especially once they moved to Indianapolis.
I used the term dilemma because, as it happens, I am from Pittsburgh. Anyone not from another planet knows what Pittsburgh people are like with their football. My problem is, independent streak notwithstanding, I just really never liked the Steelers. I know, I know!!! Before you say it, it's nothing I haven't already heard. There was just something that didn't sit well with me. God knows for all the good he's done in his life, Myron Cope was a hero! I just couldn't stand him. I hated the whole Terrible Towel thing (really-- a towel? That's the best you can do??? Linens?!?!?!?) Lived through the "One For the Thumb" campaign in 1981. That's when I really stopped liking or learning about football in earnest. It was everywhere. And it was annoying. EVERYTHING was black and gold. I mean E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. I went to a small Catholic grade school where we learned the Steeler Fight Song in music class!!! My mother made crafts for a consignment shop and the whole house was littered with various sizes of Pittsburgh Steeler Scarecrows, complete with black and gold helmets and all the assorted great players' numbers on their little tattered backs. Although I'm grateful that she was enjoying herself and making some money, I resented it at the time. I just kept thinking, what about the rest of us? What about the ones that liked the teams with the pretty cheerleaders with the fancy white boots and blue stars? Or the ones that had tigers or horses on their helmets? What about the team with the blue and green menacing bird that looked fierce enough to eat your eyeballs? What about us? Didn't we have a say, too?
I became a non-football fan. I went out on lots of dates with lots of guys that weren't football fans. I avoided it like the plague. It was during this pro-football hiatus that I discovered that I was a closet Notre Dame fan. For whatever reason, I had developed a love for Notre Dame during those High School years. I don't remember any teachers in my small Catholic high school being ND fans, or even college football fans for that matter. I'm not sure how it happened. Every time I heard someone talk about college ball on TV and they would mention any snippet about ND, my ears would prick up. It would have been useless to watch the games because a) the people that knew me would have thought I was an alien and b) I didn't have a freaking clue what was happening on the screen. The few games I did watch, I basically cheered when ND fans cheered, and booed and hissed when the opponent cheered. All in all, a decent system, until I got called out on it.
I have this thing for making certain "rectal sphincters" my pet project. I was really nice to this one person. Let's just say if all men are sphincters, he is their King. We hung out a lot. He was great friends with my husband. He was also a rabid Notre Dame fan... (is there any other kind?) See, the thing that we ND fans have in common is that no matter how bad we suck, we're still the greatest team ever. No questions asked. I offer this clip-- a parody, but oh so true: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p0Y7yjxJVlc One evening, after dinner, we were having a discussion about sports. I mentioned that I only like college sports because they have to play to earn and keep their place on the team as opposed to the pros who keep their salaries and play regardless of how hard they try or don't try. While he agreed with this, he asked me who my favorite team was. He was expecting Pitt or Penn State and I said Notre Dame. Ahhh, if you could have seen the magical expression that came over his face when I had said that. It was as if I had told him I was gifting him with a bevy of scantily-clad swimsuit models with which he could do... well, you get the picture. He was happy. Then it happened. He launched into a very detailed monologue about (insert random technical football terms here) that went on for at least five full minutes. My eyes glazed over and I began to sweat. Please don't ask me anything, please don't ask me anything, please don't ask me anything... Then the bomb went off. "What do you think of Charlie Weiss' strategy of (more random football technicalities here)?" Me, "Um, uh. I don't really understand all the technical aspects of the sport, I guess." Deep breath from both of us. Then in true sphincter-king fashion he proceeded to rip me a new one. I heard all about how I had no business calling myself a fan of any sport if I couldn't name all the players, the coaches, their blood types, and their latest sexual conquests. If I were a true fan, I would have been following the players from their conception to the final appointment on said hallowed team... I quit listening after "You have no business calling yourself a fan..." He was right. And I knew it. Score: Sphincter-1 Me-0.
I had made a friend at work who, fortunately, was male, and likes football. I mean likes football. He coached me and started teaching me about the sport. I would listen to what the newscasters would say and come to him with it and ask him to explain it. I watched every televised Notre Dame game and started to navigate those murky waters that are college football. Straightforward to some, incomprehensible to others. Myself included in the latter. I then started to learn. I had enough knowledge in me to at least mention to the King that 0 yards rushing was too sad for even a "Real Man of Genius" like himself to take. That Notre Dame, in fact had NO running game, and that God forbid anything happened to the Golden Child Jimmy Clausen because he, like Obi Wan, was our only hope. We were a one-trick pony. Even I, a novice, understood that. Did my love for ND still remain unwaivering? Of course. Did I enjoy being able to tell the King in no uncertain terms that not only did they, well, (for lack of a better term) suck? You betcha! Be careful what you wish for, sphincters. You may just get it. I had learned enough about football to criticize my own team. (That's a lot of learnin', my friends!)
The Sphincter King and I are no longer speaking. (For reasons, only his girlfriend knows for sure.) It's been several years. Do I still love ND? YES!!! Do I still watch them? YES!!! Am I still learning? YES!!! Do I still take some subtle sadistic pleasure on his behalf when we don't do well? Yes. I have watched and learned, cheered and criticized my Irish boys. I was gutted when Charlie Weiss was let go, and I was more than a little nervous when Jimmy Clausen decided to go pro instead of finishing out his last year. But when I watched the new team, the new coach, the new uniforms, and the new spirit that is driving this year's ND team, I am once again filled with pride. This time, I understand the reasons behind it, though. I loved Charlie, but when I saw this year's first game, I saw the team playing more cleanly. There was less confusion and grey-area on the field. They seemed more purpose-driven. Touchdown Jesus was smiling down on Coach Kelly and his boys.
All this leads me to the purpose of this blog entry. I growled and howled at the 8pm play time last night. Night games take longer and I'm usually asleep by 9:30 and that's when I'm not sick. I admit to dozing off and getting sucked into watching part of a movie with my son and hubby. When I came to bed, it was the third quarter, and things were still neck and neck. Knowing that the last 8 out of 10 ND-MSU games played ended with a difference of a touchdown or less, I understood that this was anyone's game. When we went into overtime with a tied score, I thought we could really do this. We could really win! And then it all started going pear-shaped.
I tell my children that knowing your limitations is an important skill. Yes, you can try. Yes, you can do your best, and sometimes succeed. Sometimes you'll surprise yourself, sometimes you'll disappoint yourself. Don't limit yourself by any means, but at the same time, know your limitations. If you know that you couldn't run across the room faster than a rock, don't volunteer to be on the track team. When faced with a stressful situation, knowing your weaknesses is just as important as knowing your strengths. I say this to you because that's what happened on the last play of the game last night.
Michigan's kicker was inexperienced. The distance he was meant to kick was a whopping 44 yards. Do you risk it with someone that you know will probably NOT make the goal? What do you do in that situation? Exactly what the good coach of Michigan's team did. He had them FAKE!!! Notre Dame never knew what hit 'em! By the time I figured out what had happened to the ball, the game was over and the team was rushing the field, same as Notre Dame. It was played out so well, it was amazing. My kicker is inexperienced and will probably not make the goal. We will probably lose. I can have them fake and try to pass the ball, then we will have a better chance because they will all just be standing there waiting for him to make a kick. It was a stroke of brilliance, and it worked out. Dantonio knew his player's limitations and decided to do what was best for the team as a whole and not massage the ego of a player that needs more practice. There's no shame in any of that. So while I am sad that Notre Dame lost it, I have to tip my hat to Mark Dantonio and the players of Michigan State for pulling this one off! You guys were great!!!
To see this play, click the YouTube link below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M1NT4NqlUd0
As for the Irish, well done! You guys played a great game. Let's crush Stanford next week!
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