On the 77th Anniversary of Knute Rockne's Death ...

On the 77th anniversary of Knute Rockne's death, I offer a reprint (from 3-31-07) of my tribute to "The Rock." With the V-Monologues now disgracing Our Lady's University, Notre Dame and its athletic teams need the intercession of this Catholic convert more than ever. We love you Knute!

Go Irish!
Tom O'Toole

You are Knute—and Upon this Rockne I Will Build "The Irish"

The date was 3-31-31. While there was, on that same date, an earthquake in Nicaragua that killed thousands, the Midwestern newspaper headlines (and indeed those around the world) instead centered upon a small airplane crash in Kansas that killed eight. The first seven would have died unnoticed, but the death of the last passenger (according to the United Press accounts) "shocked the entire world, and business and industry was halted ..." Within minutes, telegrams from the president of the United States, the king of Norway and heads of state from nearly every country, not to mention the presidents of colleges as well as athletes such as Babe Ruth and Jack Dempsey, began arriving. Meanwhile, millions of boys wept. The eighth man on that plane was Knute Kenneth Rockne.

If Rockne was merely the greatest coach who ever lived (his 13-season record of 105 wins, 12 loses and 5 ties, still remains the best ever in college football) his death at forty-three would not have brought such grief, nor would his legend have been so lasting. Son of Norwegian immigrants, Rock came to America at the age of five after his father's two-wheel carry-all buggy won an award at the Chicago World's Fair of 1893. Knute learned the game of football in the rough and tumble Windy City neighborhood of Logan Square, under the watchful eye of (I'm not kidding!) "an Irish copper named O'Goole." Knute's dad Lars wasn't keen on college, so Rockne earned his way to Notre Dame (then cheaper than the University of Illinois!) by working in the mail room for five years before entering Our Lady's University, "the lone Norse Protestant invader of a Catholic stronghold," a balding broken-nosed freshman, at the age of twenty-two.

There's no doubt Rockne was a decent football player at Notre Dame—his class went 24-1-3 and he was a key component along with QB Gus Dorais of modernizing the passing game, catching half of Dorais' completions in Notre Dame's shocking 1913 35-13 rout of highly favored Army. But he was a better tactician, and even better chemist, and upon his 1914 graduation, stayed on at ND as Chemistry instructor, head track coach and assistant football coach—in that order. But when the head coaching job came open, and Rockne chose it over heading the Chemistry Department, most observers thought he was crazy.

After 1918, his first season, which WWI shortened to six games (the Irish winning three, losing one and tying two) Rockne went undefeated the next two years and the Irish were crowned undisputed National Champions in 1920. Still, that was not the main story. THAT headline belonged to Rockne's shooting star George Gipp. Gipp, who like Rockne entered college late, was indifferent toward sports—and life—until he met his mentor. Under Rockne's guidance, Gipp, a superb runner, passer, and kicker (George once drop-kicked a field goal from sixty yards away) became the best player (according to Rock) ever to play at Notre Dame. Although Knute could not completely reform George; indeed Gipp continued to skip class, to earn his money hustling pool, and to party (allegedly Gipp caught the pneumonia that would kill him at the age of twenty-five sleeping off an all-night bender in the South Bend snow) Rockne and Our Lady definitely had an effect on him. Gipp, who died weeks after the 1920 season and within days of being named Notre Dame's first ever 1st Team All-American, converted to Catholicism on his death bed, and his life, early death and conversion, coupled with Rockne's own, certainly sealed the legend of Notre Dame football forever.

Rock's own conversion to Catholicism came on November 20, 1925, to the delight of his young son, Knute Jr., when he saw his dad also receive the Host during his class' First Holy Communion Mass. Rockne, describing his religion decision, stated "One night before a big game in the East, I was nervous and unable to sleep and went downstairs to the lobby. Between five and six o'clock, I saw two of my players hurrying out [of the hotel]. Within minutes, almost the whole team followed ... and I decided to go with. [While at morning Mass] they didn't realize it, but they made a powerful impression on me ... walking up to the Communion rail to receive ... the hours of sleep they had sacrificed ... I understood for the first time what a powerful ally their religion was to their work on the football field. Later I had the happiness of joining my players at the Communion rail."

Truth be told, Rockne's death was not exactly martyrdom, and he probably did not die a saint. He spent too little time with his young kids (he sent his two sons away to boarding school) and too much time on his football job and business promotions (at the time of his death, Rockne was flying to Hollywood to ink a $100,000 movie/newspaper deal). He continually embarrassed the Holy Cross Fathers of Notre Dame by seeking more lucrative jobs while under contract—Rock nearly agreed to terms with several Big 10 schools and actually signed a written contract with Columbia College in New York, needing several lawyers and confessors to extradite himself. And yet, at the time of his death, Rockne had directly (as when he let a suicidal blind man meet his team, and the man became a fan—and believer—for life) or indirectly (as when a priest tried futilely to bring a cynical ex-Catholic back to the Church, until he finally told the man of Rockne's conversion, at which time the man broke down and gave his first confession in thirty years) led many to the faith. But his tragic death at the height of his coaching powers (his last two teams were both undefeated National Champions) no doubt inspired and continues to inspire many in ways his life alone couldn't. And so on the anniversary of his death, let us not only recall the great coach, the man who revolutionized the game and put Fighting Irish football on the map. Let us also remember the humble soul who followed Gipp to the Faith and his players to the Communion rail, that we, like Rockne, realize it is Christ (and of course, Our Lady) that makes Notre Dame football special.

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Top Ten Telegrams/Eulogies Mourning Knute Rockne's Death

10 "Mr. Rockne so contributed to a cleanness and high purpose in athletics that his passing is a national loss."—President Herbert Hoover

9 "One man like Rockne means more to our country than a million reformers, and if football produces one Rockne in each generation, the nation can ill afford to curtail football."—James L. Knox (President of Harvard)

8 "He was a king among men. We have never met a man with greater personal magnetism, not even William Jennings Bryan."—North Carolina Christian Advocate (Methodist)

7 "I read that youth has no idols nowadays. But they had one at Notre Dame."—Sportswriter Westbrook Pegler

6 "Knute Rockne was a strong moral force and an inspiration to the youth of our land. Fourteen hundred orphan children of Mooseheart Illinois will always remember his timely and inspiring talks to them."—James J. David, President of Mooseheart

5 "When I heard of Rockne's death, something unusual happened; tears came into my eyes that I thought long ago had shed all they could hold. Now I know I was only one of a multitude who never spoke a word to Rockne but loved him. Rockne was Sorin without a cassock or breviary."—Rev. Francis Clement Kelley, Bishop of Oklahoma

4 "In the past generation, it was Buffalo Bill. For this generation, it was Knute Rockne. The boy had a profound respect for Knute Rockne, and Rockne for the boy. Each read each other's minds, and they were heroes to each other. Millions of boys (and men, girls and women) bow in grief at the news that Rockne is dead, because for millions he was greater than the president."—Cleveland Press

3 "No other death could have brought more universal sorrow than this. Knute Rockne's name was a household word. Boys who could not yet read could tell you about Rockne ... there have been big figures in sports but none who have attained the size of Rockne ... the game has ended, but in every department of play, Knute Rockne has won."—The Denver News

2 "We thought it would take a president's death to make a whole nation, regardless of age, race or creed, shake their heads in real sincere sorrow ... Well, that's what this country did today Knute for you. You died a national hero ... Notre Dame was your address, but every gridiron in America was your home."—Will Rogers

1 (tie) "Knute Rockne has had a wider influence in developing the ideals of fair play than any other man in his generation, and he did it under the banner of the Mother of God."—Rev. John F. O'Hara, University of Notre Dame

1 (tie) "What was the secret of his irresistible appeal to all sorts and conditions of men? I do not know the answer. But in this hour of piteous loss and pained bewilderment, I find myself recalling the words of Christ, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart ... and thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' Knute loved God and neighbor with a genuine deep love, and his case verifies the Christian paradox—he has cast away to keep, he has lost his life to find it."—ND President Charles O'Donnell, from his eulogy at Knute Rockne's funeral Mass

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The Vagina Monologues' St. Valentine's Day Massacre at Notre Dame: An open letter to Fr. Jenkins

Rev. John Jenkins
President of Notre Dame
University of Notre Dame/Main Building
Notre Dame, IN 46556

Dear Fr. John,

My friends at The Cardinal Newman Society informed me that after a one-year hiatus, the diabolically-inspired Vagina Monologues has made its way back on campus. Granted, I understand you are not "sponsoring" it (the Anthropology and Sociology Departments are actually doing that), so (in your mind anyway) it is not considered an "official university-sponsored activity." Still, I have to admit, Father, it sounds to me a lot like a Catholic politician saying, "while I am personally opposed to abortion, I do not want to legislate my views on others," in other words; a lot of "sound and fury, signifying nothing." But maybe, as a daily Mass Catholic, I'm just overly sensitive.

Then again, maybe not. In addition to The Cardinal Newman Society, I just read that the United States Bishops Committee on Doctrine which was scheduled to have a conference at Our Lady's university starting on Feb. 11, the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes (which I trust is still a special day at Notre Dame, considering the lasting place your Lourdes replica grotto has in the hearts of both alumni and students), pulled out of their Notre Dame reservations both at their disgust of the play being held on campus, and in deference to your bishop, John D’Arcy (who called V-M "offensive to women" and "antithetical to Catholic teaching") and are instead meeting at a local convent outside of South Bend.

I know, I know. You would insist the real issue here is free speech, and just because this play glorifies lesbianism, upholds group masturbation as a dogma, and calls a girl's lesbian rape her "salvation" and "heaven," doesn't mean The V-Monologues is the equivalent of screaming "fire" in a crowded theatre, or "F*** Jesus" in Sacred Heart Church, as the case may be. And you have always preached that Notre Dame must allow free expression of ideas, even those contrary to the Faith, if it is to be a true leader in national, indeed, international university education, and thus, The V-Monologues stays—or is at least allowed to return.

Well, maybe you're right, Father, but something about that "leader" stuff still feels wrong. After all, Fr. McBrien's heresy has become old hat, and although pressure from people like the bishops and The Cardinal Newman Society have reduced the number of Catholic universities showing The V-M by almost half, there are still eighteen other allegedly loyal-to-Rome colleges presenting this decidely un-Christian play, so your presentation is no longer noteworthy in that regard. So if you really want to stand out, Father, why not keep the "Monologues" ... but hire Dana Jacobson to play the lead role? That foul-mouthed vodka-toting ESPN commentator has made a name for herself by blaspheming the sacred names of Christ and Notre Dame (again, something you thought not significant enough to personally rebuke, but your underling's statement of disagreement proved so mild that head football coach Charlie Weis finally had to step in and properly denounce the attack and defend Notre Dame's honor) and Dana would be perfect to make that play come alive. For, if Rudy Ruettiger was born to lead the Notre Dame players out of the stadium tunnel, then (according to your logic) Dana Jacobson was born to play that hateful lesbian role on Our Lady's campus. You'd have to admit, Father, that THAT would be a performance of The Vagina Monologues that no other actress on any other Catholic campus could ever live up to—and a rendition of the play that no orthodox president of a Catholic university could ever live down.

Now I've left you with much to think (and hopefully pray) about, Father, but before I go, please allow this loyal son of Notre Dame one final observation. If, on the eve of March 26 (the first day of The V-Monologues' scheduled Notre Dame performance), you look up in the sky and see the Lady on the Dome appear to cry, know that it is not due to the weather. It is Our Lady expressing Her right of free speech, in that silent manner that only Our Mother has obediently mastered.

God's grace and Mary's prayers,
Tom O'Toole, Class of '81

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Upholding Our Lady's Honor: Defending Notre Dame from "Nostradamus Dana" Jacobson

Not pleased with ESPN's handling of "The Night of the Living Dana" situation, Catholic blogger, Lance Mitchell, wrote to the network himself to express his displeasure, receiving the following response. Lance asked me, as both a Catholic writer and a Notre Dame alumnus, if I thought the reply was adequate.

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Date: Fri, 25 Jan 2008 18:32:23 -0800 (PST)
From: Lance Mitchell
Subject: Re: Dana Jacobson
To: ESPN Viewer Response

How long is she suspended for? She said f*** Notre Dame, f*** Touchdown Jesus, f*** Jesus. The last part of that sounds like an attack on Christianity to me. Your response sounds to me as if she is going to get a slap on the wrist ...

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ESPN Viewer Response askespntv@espn.com wrote:



Thank you for taking the time to write.

Ms. Jacobson's inappropriate comments were delivered in the context of Notre Dame football and its Touchdown Jesus icon. They were wrong and inexcusable, and she was suspended from her duties. Her uncharacteristic behavior was not aimed at a particular religious faith. They took place at an adult-only roast that was not aired on any ESPN outlet.

We appreciate your giving us the opportunity to respond.

Sincerely,
ESPN Viewer Response

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Actually, Lance, not even close. Quite frankly, ESPN's "no-name" e-mail was so flawed (and phony!) that it wouldn't have received a passing grade as a middle-school SAT extended response test, let alone as a public relations statement of a major sports network. Forgetting for a moment the politically-correct-to-the-point-of-being-condescending opening and closing statements, perhaps the main problem with the letter is that it first takes one side of the argument and then the other, thus contradicting itself and leaving its closing "Sincerely" sounding very insincere indeed. Note how the opening apologetic tone, with words like "wrong," "inexcusable," and "inappropriate," is almost immediately undercut with defiant phrases like "not aimed at," "not aired," and "adult only." So what starts out as a "we're really sorry for Dana's embarrassing Vodka-induced blasphemy" apology turns into a "but it really wasn't meant for you, so lighten up and mind your own business" declarative statement.

But besides this major contradiction in tone and explanation, ESPN commits, in an attempt to mitigate both Jacobson's and corporate guilt, many more minor gaffes as well. For example, by referring to the "Word of Life" mural (it's original name), not as the "Touchdown Jesus" mural, but as the "Touchdown Jesus Icon," "Mr. (or Ms.) ESPN Viewer Response," unwittingly admits it is not a silly artwork to be satirized, but a sacred sacramental to be revered. And by saying "F*** Jesus" (note that ESPN, now deathly afraid to air the tape, is no longer denying Dana said this), "was not aimed at a particular religious faith," ESPN, by trying to rid themselves of the rath of 1.1 billion Catholics, are now opening themselves up to the rancor of 2.1 billion Christians instead. And finally, by implying the words "F*** Notre Dame" don't really matter beyond football, they are showing they are either ignorant of history or are, as the new "sports gods of the universe," actually above it—which is in fact the worst prejudice of all.

For if ESPN and Jacobson, in all their supposed game-day preparation, still do not know what "Notre Dame" translates into, I will once more explain it means "Our Lady." She is the Mother of God, (for Catholics) the most merciful woman who ever lived, of whom scripture says, "all nations shall call me blessed" (Luke 1:48). And so, when your female anchor calls Our Lady not blessed, but something completely the opposite, it is a serious slander indeed, and it is akin to slamming Jesus Himself. Furthermore, Fr. Sorin, the founder of Our Lady's university, named it "Notre Dame" specifically so that everything the school did would reflect Mary and give glory to Her Son. In other words, if Dana had defamed, say, "Boston College," PERHAPS her lame excuse would be somewhat justified, for holiness is not specifically part of B.C.'s name. But not Notre Dame. Not at a football game, not at a roast, not ever. And until Jacobson and her network cohorts realize why (in addition to Dana's drunkenness, which was also too easily dismissed) her comments were so wrong, it remains virtually impossible for them to make it right.

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F*** Touchdown Jesus?F****** (Forgive) Dana Jacobson—But first, her penance

Trashing the Catholic Church:
University Style (Pt. 1)

While the good ol' boys of ESPN apparently did a good job of both damage control and cover-up in the case of Dana Jacobson's "mistake" (co-host of ESPN2's "First Take"), eyewitnesses of her drunken anti-Catholic rant are justifiably incensed. Although the tape of her horrible attempt at humor at a roast for ESPN's Mike and Mike (Golic and Greenberg that is) is mysteriously missing, several audience members concurred that Jacobson's rant (who was openly taking slugs from a bottle of Belvedere Vodka while at the podium speaking) included the following: "F*** Notre Dame! F*** Touchdown Jesus! F*** Jesus!"

Now the only excuse/explanation offered was that Golic was an All-American lineman at Notre Dame before his stellar NFL (and ESPN) career, while Jacobson is an alumnus of one of the Irish's most-heated rivals, the University of Michigan. Besides, all's fair when it comes to celebrity roasts, right?

Well apparently enough people in the audience (which included Notre Dame football coach Charlie Weis), felt that blasphemy is never in style, for Dana of the Damned was finally booed off the stage. Of course, after Ms. Jacobson had slept off the effects of her 80 proof truth serum, she did offer the following apology: "I am sorry. My remarks about Notre Dame were foolish and insensitive. I respect all religions and did not mean anything derogatory by my poorly chosen words. I also deeply regret the embarrassment I've caused ESPN and Mike and Mike. My actions were inappropriate and in no way represent who I am. I won't make excuses for my behavior, but I do hope I can be forgiven for such a poor lack of judgment."

Somewhat amazingly, reports out of ESPN have their God-hating anchor suspended for only a week, although one suspects this might be based on whether or not the cover-up continues to keep the incident hidden from the Notre Dame (and YouTube) Nation.

Perhaps even more troubling than the shruggin'-the-shoulders attitude of ESPN is the response of Notre Dame itself. After hearing of the incident, university spokesman Dennis Brown concluded, "While we in no way condone Ms. Jacobson's comments, we're aware of the circumstances in which they occurred, and in the interest of forgiveness, trust that she and ESPN will address the matter in an appropriate way."

Considering the furor Golf Channel's Kelly Tilghman's "lynch Tiger Woods" comment (and subsequent hangman's noose magazine cover) caused, I am surprised that these worst of words against Christ and Our Lady have produced barely a ripple. While the ESPN reaction is (to date) much too lenient, I'm not sure that the knee-jerk firing of the new president of "Jerks against Jesus" Jacobson is the most fitting response either. For while I agree with Mr. Brown that the best solution involves forgiveness, in the Catholic world that Dana has so decisively dissed, Dennis knows there is no real forgiveness without penance.

Thus, in the interest of fairness to both sides, Fighting Irish Thomas offers Ms. Jacobson the following penitential options:

Read the powerful apologetic Catholic pamphlet "Pillar of Fire, Pillar of Truth," and either write a research paper disputing its conclusions —or why it made her decide to convert.

Do a documentary on the life of the "lady behind the grotto," St. Bernadette—and either prove why her life of humble service was a fraud—OR why Notre Dame's words to Bernadette, "I am the Immaculate Conception," should fling Jacobson to her knees, beating her breast and begging God's mercy.

Have Dana spend 40 hours kneeling (the more hours during this sub-zero cold, the better) at the Notre Dame grotto, where she must continue to mock Mary and those who come to pray—or become the leader of the 6:45 p.m. Rosary recited there daily.

I figure this way is much fairer to all concerned, for now it will truly be Ms. Jacobson who decides her own fate. For those exercises will either cause her to convert to the Catholic faith, leaving no doubt her apology is sincere, or make her hate of Jesus become so heinous (not to mention public) that there is no way ESPN, or anyone except perhaps the Taliban, would again employ her as an anchor.

Well, Ms. Jacobson, NOW what do you think? Or perhaps, before you decide, you need another drink ...

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Bd Antony Baldinucci: The sick son who became a legend

I was thinking about my son, Gary Anthony, a lot this week, first with all he and his Navy-mates had to deal with being stationed in San Diego in the midst of the wildfires, but also how difficult it must be dealing with being one of the few Navy soldiers who is DISAPPOINTED they finally beat Notre Dame. Perhaps reading the life of today's Blessed, Antony Baldinucci, will help give him strength.

Antony was born in Florence in 1665, to Filippo (a writer and painter) and Caterina Scolari. The couple already had four sons, but after praying to St Antony of Padua and being cured of a grave illness, Filippo promised not only would his next son (if they had another) be named after this great saint, but he would make sure #5 would follow in his footsteps as a priest. Although this type of parental "persuasion" often has the opposite effect, young Antony, after learning that a young St Aloysius Gonzaga had lived in his family's house a century before, took it to be a sign of destiny and was accepted into the Society of Jesus at the age of sixteen.

Antony, like many young (would-be) saints, longed to be a missionary, but his precarious health not only kept him from going to India, a series of seizures and excruciating headaches delayed his priestly ordination until Baldinucci turned thirty. But Antony quickly made up for lost time, turning his attention to the poor and uneducated in Italy with remarkable results.

By today's standards, Antony's methods seemed like madness, but the scores of conversions Baldinucci garnered from among the dissolute and destitute suggest otherwise. When Antony came to a town, he would pick willing penitents out of the crowd and have them march in procession down main streets wearing crowns of thorns and beating themselves with the discipline, as Antony, despite his ill health, wore heavy chains and carried a huge cross at the head of the line. Once he got the crowd's attention, the violent parade would cease, but his words proved so powerful that his missions often ended with the public burning of cards, dice, obscene pictures, and the like. Soon Antony's presence (despite his shabby appearance) became requested in Italy's richer dioceses too and he preached 448 missions in Romagna and Abruzzi alone while continuing his other priestly responsibilities. Like Blessed Teresa, Antony kept an extensive correspondence through letters and rarely slept, going three hours at night on a bed of planks when he did. And during the severe famine that hit Italy in 1716, Anthony worked literally around the clock, but after a year, this heroic relief effort finally proved to be too much for his already weakened heart, as Antony ended his earthly mission on Nov. 7, 1717.

Ironically, in today's Chicago Tribune Sports section, Rick Morrissey's article "In long run, 'Just Do It' ..." talks about how, in the wake of a death such as former Notre Dame runner Ryan Shay, many critics are quick to conclude that athletes like Ryan (who had an enlarged heart) should be encouraged to live a sedentary life instead of following their dreams through sport. Fortunately Morrissey disagrees, concluding "If mankind stopped doing everything that involved pain or danger ... where would we be? Probably very cold, having not had the guts to harness fire."

Blessed Antony's life may have not been the longest or healthiest, but it was certainly one of the brightest. Like Shay, he died using his gift, inspiring others to also give their all. With a little more rest and a lot more relaxation, Ryan and Antony might have had a longer stay here on earth. But neither would have brought nearly as many souls with them to cross the finish line into that eternal victory we call heaven.

Blessed Anthony and runner Ryan, pray for us!

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ND Grad Ryan Shay Dead: Former Irish star dies running

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy came cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

Today the road all runners come
Shoulder-high we brought you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

–"A Shropshire Lad" by A. E. Housman

Former Fighting Irish running star Ryan Shay died doing what he was famous for, trying to make the team during the New York Olympic marathon trials Saturday. Shay, 28, an 8-time All-American at Notre Dame, and according to Notre Dame athletic director Kevin White, "The Brady Quinn of Notre Dame running," collapsed at the 5.5 mile point of the 26-mile race and was pronounced dead 45 minutes later. And the circumstances surrounding the death could not have been more tragic.

Not only did Ryan marry his wife, Alicia, a mere four months ago, but Ryan Hall, Shay's good friend and training partner, actually won the Olympic trials race in a record time, only to find out at the finish line his mate was gone.

"He was the most tenacious competitor I have ever seen, "said his former Notre Dame coach Joe Piane. Shay showed his coach he was an elite runner by winning the 2001 NCAA 10,000 meter event as an individual, but proved to Piane, "he was a great team man," by finishing 5th in the 2000 Big East cross-country championship "on an Achilles tendon so sore he was a virtual cripple," to give the Irish just enough points to win the team crown.

"We are all devastated over Ryan's death," said USA Track and Field executive officer Craig Masback. "He was a tremendous champion who was here to pursue his dreams."

Sara Hall, Ryan Hall's wife and good friend of both Alicia (who, along with Sara were elite runners in their own right) and Ryan Shay, perhaps summed it up best. "It seems like the Olympic trials are the end of the world, but the most important thing is the people we impact and the God we serve."

There was a moment of silence for both Shay and Earl "Tony" Hughes, the slain brother of Irish running back Robert Hughes, before yesterday's Notre Dame-Navy game.

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"Rudy" vs. "Rudy"—Ruettiger's rude Giuliani awakening

“We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”
–Romans 8:28

Is it just my imagination or is former New York governor and current GOP presidential front-runner Rudolph Giuliani stealing from the famous Notre Dame football walk-on and Champions of Faith participant Daniel "Rudy" Ruettiger?

Not only does the Giuliani primary promotional poster forsake the candidate's last name, the print and type style seem to be nearly identical to the one used on the blockbuster 1993 movie title bearing Ruettiger's popular nickname. But if that wasn't enough, yesterday's widely distributed news photo includes an Iowa University student and campaign volunteer (Jessie Appleby) next to a Rudy (Giuliani) sign who bears an eerie resemblance to actress Lily Taylor who played Rudy Ruettiger's love interest, Sherry, in that same inspirational film.

Being a writer who's had his titles and phrases "borrowed" without permission, it could be said that I'm overly sensitive on this subject. However, with one as shrewd, in a worldly sense, as this all-things-to-all-men politician, I refuse to believe that this is mere coincidence. On the other hand, Romans 8:28 is one of my favorite verses from scripture, and while Ruettiger (who has verses from Romans 8:38-39 introducing his COF chapter) now runs an international inspirational organization whose universal "Never Give Up" message addressed toward people of all races and creeds, usually procures him from endorsing a particular candidate, I'm hoping with a Romans 8:24-25-hope that the stealing-dealings of this thrice-divorced pro-abort will force Dan's hand. If not, it has certainly forced mine.

Rudy, Rudy, Rudy! (please endorse) Michael Huckabee for your next "Never Give Up" president!

(This blog approved by Domers for Huckabee.)

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Replay: In Defense of Notre Dame

Last year's post on this day, In Defense of Notre Dame is one of FIT's most visited links. Here it is once again.

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From the FIT mailbag ...

9-19-07

Hello FIT,

I have a question that I thought you may be able to help me out with. Forgive me if this idea has been discussed before in the past, but here goes. I graduated from ND in '98 and naturally have accumulated and have been generously gifted many items which are labeled with "Notre Dame, ND, Fighting Irish.." and the various other symbols that represent our beloved university. Many of these items are sold by the book store and many of them are sold by other businesses. What probably began as mainly clothes that were labeled with Notre Dame symbols presently includes a large variety of objects ranging from pencils to carmats. Why not label everything that you use with the school that you love? But it occurred to me that these words, "Notre Dame" and the symbols which represent her or her school should probably be restricted to those material objects which we also respect. For example, I have Notre Dame carmats but should I be putting my feet onto carmats which have our lady's name? I have not seen Notre Dame diapers yet, but if I did I would think that this would be bad taste. Do you have any input here?

Thanks,
John McDonagh

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Dear John,

It's an intriguing question I've often thought about myself. I remember addressing it some ten years ago (when you were in school!). I wrote in a magazine article which tackled the state of faith at ND, and I wrote how negatively I was affected when I saw thousands of discarded souvenir pop cups (which that year featured a picture of Mary on the Dome) trampled on by un-concerned exiting fans. There's a huge difference between putting the leprechaun on a car mat, disposable cup or (heaven forbid!) a diaper vs. using the image of the Mother of God. I think the former is okay although in those cases I prefer the label "Fighting Irish" rather than "Notre Dame."

I would reserve Our Lady for items that are used/worn with some reverence. Personally, I would rather see a car mat of the Golden Dome on a wall than on the floor of a car. (You don't ever see an American flag car mat, do you?) but not all share my view. Of course, my thought, the struggle between success (i.e. wealth) vs. faith (what Notre Dame means, who She is) extends beyond just memorabilia (or sacramentals as the case may be). For example, does the large NBC logo embedded in the wall of the new stadium (an expansion which now blocks the once ever-present "Touchdown Jesus" from view to all but a stadium few) contradict the Marian mission of Notre Dame, a mission the team once embraced? Personally, I think the Notre Dame "success" stories, however altruistic they may be, have overshadowed its Catholic Christian mission (when's the last time you saw a Notre Dame commercial that mentioned what "Notre Dame" meant or talked about a university dedicated to the Mother of God?) But I see signs (such as Charlie Weis having the players sing "Notre Dame, Our Mother" to Our Lady on the Dome after every game) which, however small, I believe could be the start of something great. My blog is also one such small effort, but every time I get a faithful response such as yours, I am indeed encouraged! Thanks for writing, and keep fighting the good fight!

God's grace & Mary's prayers,
Tom

P.S. Please consider me as a speaker the next time your parish needs one. Also, John, I'd be curious to see what you think of my Suffering Irish idea when you get a chance.

Fighting Irish Thomas Remembers Harry Oliver

Harry Oliver, 47, died late Wednesday morning of cancer. In FIT-ting tribute, we are re-running the story I wrote as a student of his greatest Fighting Irish Triumph.

Reflections on the Game
by Tom O'Toole

Well, it happened again. This time the woe fell upon Bo and his Wolverines, and the doom was dealt by the terrible toe of our Harry Oliver. But the situation was nothing new. But why, one may ask, do the Irish win so many close encounters of the turf kind? Indeed, why Notre Dame? Why Our Lady? Why, OUR LADY! Of course! The answer's in the question.

The first inexplicable factor behind the Fighting Irish's fantastic success is, of course, the fans themselves. Yet, as I watched them milling around the gates before the Michigan game, it almost seemed as if there were too many for the team's own good. True, the gaudy green-suited alumni whose greenbacks keep this place in business all have their tickets way in advance, but many of the common faithful flock here with no way of getting into the stadium, except on a whim and a prayer.

"The Pope can't help me, but maybe you can," proclaims one sign. "I need six tickets," it challenges, as it waves in front of the "All ticket peddlers will be prosecuted" sign at Gate 14. As I walk through the midst of the stalkers and scalpers, I see off in a corner an old man sitting on a parking block, his head in his hands. He is crying. As I approach him to see if there is any comfort I can lend, I see a sign by his side, "I desperately need 20 tickets," it reads. I turn away; no further explanation is needed.

But as I turn back, a more familiar sight strikes me, and it is infinitely more painful than the last. It is my folks. It is almost inevitable that my dad will come down for every home game, and he inveterately will have tickets for none of them. As I trudge toward him, I am aware of the futility of the forthcoming conversation, but after four years, I feel it is my duty.

"Hi, Dad. Bring any tickets this time?"

"Nope. But we'll find some," he promises proudly.

"Dad, tickets are going for fifty bucks apiece!"

"Well, we're not going to pay that much."

"But look at all the people walking around who need 'em!"

"Don't worry, Tom. We'll get some. I've done it this way for 25 years and haven't failed once."

It was no use. Domer alumni just have too much faith to face the facts. So I waved good-bye to Mom and Dad and my little brothers and sisters, and went in to claim my safely established seat.

Of course, a SEAT, per se, is a hypothetical concept in Notre Dame Stadium, at least in the student section. For even if you can get to your allotted two-foot block of bench, the only thing you'll be able to use it for is to stand three feet above the concrete. Now, there is no rule against sitting, and it is really a rather nice thing to do, if you like to look at legs. But if your goal is to see the game, about the only time you'll get to rest your toes is at halftime.

By halftime at this particular game, we had squandered a two-touchdown lead, as Michigan tied us and then passed us in the third quarter. But after Krimm picked off a pass and proceeded 49 yards to pay dirt, it looked as if we were going to even the score, only to have some chump named Oliver blow the P.A.T. The crowd's comments were predictable.

"That a--h---!"

"That point's gonna cost us!"

But the throng was finally calmed when, with but three minutes left, "Concrete" Phil Carter cracked over from the four, and we went ahead by five. Bo's boys had put up a good fight, but we had prevailed. Until an excellent return, an unexpected draw play, and a deflected touchdown pass deflated our dreams, and all but destroyed our team's hopes. As I looked down at the referee declaring our demise with outstretched hands, four men in identical T-shirts passed in front of him and then turned our way. The shirts had writing on them, and aided by binoculars, their simple, prophetic message became clear; "Never Doubt."

And yet, despite an interesting 30-yard interference call on Kiel's "alley oop" pass to Tony Hunter, and two short "quicky" completions, faces in the crowd still read, "too little, too late." For with four seconds and 34 yards to go, a 51-yard field goal loomed as our only hope. But as we looked up at the flags and realized the 20-mph gust that was making them flap, all hope was gone. With that wind, there was no way.

"What should I do?" pondered Harry Oliver at that point, quite new to this type of situation. Never before had he kicked a field goal of more than 38 yards in his life.

"Kick the hell out of it," answered the practical Mr. Crable, "and kick it straight."

They lined up, and all was calm. The wind stopped, the blocking held, and the foot connected. "I knew I hit it good," Harry would say later, "but I didn't know if it was that good." It was that good. The ball fell through, and the place fell apart.

People were still floating on air when I met my family after the game.

"Did you get seats?" I inquired more anxiously than usual.

"Sure did," said Dad, the afterglow of the victory still very apparent in his smile. "Right after you left. Some guy with extra tickets walked right up and gave them to me."

"How much?" I grimaced, prepared for the worst.

"He gave them to us," he repeated. "Took one look at little Danny sittin' on top of my shoulders and said, 'Here. Take these tickets. I want the kid to see the game.' After that I knew something was going to happen."

Meanwhile, I found out my sister Kathy had devised her own plan. Persuading a young vendor to lend her his programs, she snuck in with a bunch of the other vendors when the guard wasn't checking so closely. But while her accomplice was having a hard time convincing the gate keeper that he was legit, my sister passed the time by selling his programs for him. She had already sold two by the time he got in and came to reclaim them. "So I made four bucks getting into the game!" she exclaimed deviously.

Soon afterward, we met up with members of the Taylor family. My dad had been a Domer with Hobie (or Mr. Taylor for the unacquainted), and our families now live in the same town, so we knew each other well.

"Some game!" Mom greeted them. "I still don't believe it!"

"Only nonbelievers don't believe," countered Hobie. "And we just saw 20,000 Michigan fans heading toward the Grotto. You can bet they're believers now. Hey! Look what Fitzgerald gave me."

"What is it?" asked Dad, as his friend pulled out a little plastic bag with something green inside.

"It's turf," he told us. "Fitz went down on the field after the game and dug up a square from the spot where Harry kicked the ball. He has turf from all the important games. Still has a patch from the '77 Southern Cal game growing in his backyard." Michael Molinelli, take note.

* * * * * * *
Although that all was only my observation of the game, other chroniclers were pretty much in agreement about the outcome. Though the Detroit Free Press admitted only a "near miracle kick" in "one of the greatest games in recent college history," the Michigan student paper was more adamant. "Michigan 27, Notre Dame 26, God 3" its headlines stated as the obvious fact. Bill Jauss of the Chicago Tribune said we "used a script too fictional even for the Gipper or Rockne," while Dan Devine, who has been known to repeat himself on certain calls, called it "the all time, all time, all time moment." Finally Father Ted, who is always the last word on such theological debates, simply called it, "a whole new chapter in an ongoing tradition." The tradition he was referring to was doing the impossible. Or as Harry Oliver would say, "not giving up."

But what does Harry have to say about all of this? Two weeks after the big event, the author of the latest chapter of Irish grid lore is still shaking his head. "I still can't comprehend the magnitude of that kick," he says softly. "It didn't seem like it was something that important at the time. But everyone keeps telling me differently."

Harry's story is not that of the average football hero, except perhaps at Notre Dame, where it fits in rather nicely. Harry hated football when he was young. He preferred basketball. When he tried out as a cornerback freshman year at Moeller High, it was solely because of peer pressure, and he was cut as being "too small." Then in a sophomore year soccer game his kicking ability was noticed by head football coach, Faust, not unlike Rockne's accidental discovery of Gipp, who was booting drop kicks at the time. Like the "Rock," Coach Faust was also successful in his recruiting, and Oliver came out as a placekicker his junior year. He was still only second string but the number-one man, who happened to be Junior Nabor (now a star at Stanford), helped Harry immensely. So, by his senior year, Oliver was ready.

That year, he performed well enough to catch Devine's eyes, and along with such Moeller greats as Koegel, Condeni, Crable and Hunter, Oliver came to Notre Dame. Then, after two years behind the likes of Joe Unis and Chuck Male, Harry felt that he was again ready, only to come out of spring sessions second to Mike Johnston. Even though he was extremely discouraged, he didn't quit. Instead, he kept working, and waited for a chance to redeem himself. Which, in a nutshell, is exactly what happened to Harry in the Michigan game.

Though a quiet soul six days out of the week, Harry will tell you he's as emotional as anybody the day of the game. And yet, despite his tremendous emotional intensity, Oliver, whose 37 of 39 set an Ohio high school record for extra point percentage, admits it was a simple lapse of concentration which made him miss one against Michigan and which almost cost us a game. But again, he prayed for a chance to prove himself, and miraculously, it came. Miraculously, too, in more ways than one.

"I didn't notice at the time that the wind had stopped, but so many people have told me so it must be true. I COULDN'T have kicked it that far against the wind," he confessed.

The secret of his success is much simpler. It's his faith. He prays constantly. He attends Mass daily. He visited the Grotto before the game, after the game, and probably would have snuck out at halftime had it not been for the gospel music the band played that day. And he says his Rosary always. Our Lady is truly his first love.

Yet, it would be hard for us to believe that all the hoopla has not changed his ways a little. "Well, a lot of girls call me up now," he concedes, "and I get a lot more letters." He received over 40 letters last week from all over the country, not to mention one from an alumnus in Argentina. (Father Ted would be pleased about that one.)

People who do not know him can't help view him differently. But Coach Devine's comment, "Harry's a heck of a nice kid; he was even before he kicked it," sums up the "change" perfectly. His teammates now playfully ask if they can kiss his left toe, and Harry recalls that the Monday after the game, just as he was coming out for practice, the sky turned from blue to grey to green. Immediately a storm which was to uproot trees and drench the campus fell upon them. "Gee, Harry, if you wanted the day off, why didn't you just say so!" they kidded him.

And yet, they are only half kidding. The kick has boosted his confidence, but has not shaken his foundation. When asked why he thought the Irish came away with so many last second wins, he looked around for awhile as if to think up some highly technical explanation, but finally just shook his head and shrugged.

"It has to be Divine Intervention," he said.

"That's spelled D-I-v-i-n-e, right?"

He laughed. "Yes, but it was Coach himself who said we owe this victory to one lady, OUR Lady."

"It's like the prayer goes, 'now and at the hour of our death,'" Harry continued. "And after that touchdown I thought we were pretty dead. Everyone did. But I also had the feeling something would happen."

"After the kick, do you think Coach will let you kick off?" I asked while leaving.

"Oh, Harry's above that," his roommate cut in.

"Yeah, he'd get creamed," offered another.

Nevertheless, Our Lady helped us again. And this time, Harry Oliver just happened to be Her instrument.

Tom O'Toole, a senior, is an English major and the Sports Editor for Scholastic.

For the Record: Barry Bonds vs. the Notre Dame Fighting Irish

Admittedly (by this writer, not those indicted), the last few weeks in sports have not left a very positive taste. This is not to be confused with a positive test, for nearly half of the riders of the Tour de France were kicked out of the famed bicycle race for using banned substances while NBA Ref Tim Donaghy was bounced out of professional basketball for gambling and throwing games, and NFL superstar quarterback Michael Vick is not being allowed to throw passes this season pending the outcome on his trial for involvement in organized dog fights. And, of course, Barry Bonds, implicated in steroid use from everyone from his (former) supplier to his (ex) girlfriend, hit his 755th homer last night to tie Hank Aaron's record ...

As far as Barry is concerned, barring an act of God, Mr. Bonds will soon have the all-time home run record, one of the most coveted in baseball if not all of sports, all to himself. And this makes people mad. You see, Bonds is, according to many sources and much circumstantial evidence such as action-figure muscles and a swelled head (the literal kind that is), a big-time steroid user, not to mention a huge jerk. In other words, not a very good role model. So according to conventional sports-talk "wisdom," we should take the record away from him (by putting an asterisk as big as his muscle-bound noggin next to it) and definitely not let him in the Baseball Hall of Fame, despite the fact Barry is perhaps the greatest hitter of all time.

Here is my problem with this logic. First of all, Barry has never been found guilty by a grand jury of cheating, so at least we owe him a trial. Secondly, baseball is at least partially to blame for the drug scandal, for in being the last big time sports to not only test players for steroids but in many cases, even ban their use (indeed the steroid-laced performance enhancers Mark McGwire used during the great 1998 home run race were then still legal in Major League Baseball), the front office gave their players their tacit approval to use them. And finally, if we were really going to weed the immoral immortals out of the Hall of Fame, half of Cooperstown would be forced to fly the coop. Mickey Mantle practically drank himself to death and played many a day game with a huge hangover, while Willie Mays (as did many major leaguers in the 60s) frequently used amphetamines and chased down many a ball while on "Speed." And Ty Cobb? He not only sharpened his spikes before games to literally cut down opponents as he slid into the bases, but was also one of the biggest racists our country has ever known. In other words, he not only played "dirty," but was even a bigger jerk than Bonds—or Pete Rose, the great "hustler" on and off the field who broke Cobbs' all time hit record but because he bet on baseball still isn't in the Hall of Fame either.

As for myself, I think we have to learn to distinguish between the accomplishment and the character, the "feat" and the feet. Even St. Paul implies (in 1 Cor. 9:24-27) that there is something admirable in athletic discipline in and of itself for it is a foreshadowing of the heroic virtue spiritual discipline brings. If one discipline leads to the other, all the better (I don't mean THAT kind of betting Mr. Rose!) but there is still something God-given in the achievement that makes both the moment remarkable and the person responsible divinely reformable. To me, watching athletic records being broken by rogue players is sort of like receiving the Eucharist from an immoral priest. Okay, in Bonds' case, it is more like hearing mass from a dissident bishop and then receiving the host from an extraordinary minister in mini-skirt and halter top, but the point is still that if the priest did pronounce the Eucharistic Prayers correctly, the bread and wine still becomes the Body and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Thus, I am all the more thankful, on the Feast of Our Lady of the Snows, for the records made at the University of Notre Dame, a place whose shrines (like the Grotto, which was dedicated on this date in 1896) are to Our Lady, whose prayers help to keep the athletic pursuits of the Fighting Irish pure.

As for Mr. Bonds, put him as well as Mr. Rose in the Hall, but in a new "purgatory wing" next to the notorious Cobb. No doubt the bust of the black-hating Georgian will soon bait the giant-headed marble Giant into a fight, with Pete placing bets on the eventual winner. On the other hand, with Babe Ruth, the first home run king and famed womanizer who DID return to the Catholic faith, praying for their conversion in that Field of Dreams we call heaven, one never knows what the final fate of "The Record" (or record-holder) will be.

The Demise of Dave Duerson: Double Trouble for "Double D"

I was a self-assured senior at Notre Dame, and he a shy freshman. "D" lived just down the hall from me in Flanner, a quiet guy who made his noise the one place it mattered most (at least to Fighting Irish football fans)—the playing field. But Dave Duerson quickly found his voice, not only going on to become an All-American defender for the Irish and an All-Star for the Chicago Bears, but a leader in the business world, a trusted trustee of Notre Dame, and a spokesman for the NFL. But lately, like a fumble that keeps bouncing the wrong way, all this seems to be slipping away from my former hallmate ...

Two years ago, to say that Dave was one of the most respected alumni of Our Lady's university would not have been an exaggeration. But after a domestic violence incident, Dave was forced to resign from Notre Dame's Board of Trustees. Then a year later, his once strong company, Duerson Foods, was forced in receivership. And neither the marital nor financial side of Duerson's story appear headed toward happy endings; his house is up for foreclosure in October, and last month he filed for divorce from his wife, after twenty-four years of marriage. Not to mention as an NFL Union rep, he is now arguing with none other than Mike Ditka about veteran's benefits.

What can be said about such a sad state of affairs, when fame at Notre Dame gives way to infamy, and faith gives way to separation. On the day when my parents celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, it seems ironic that Fighting Irish Thomas has tackled this subject so often in recent days. From Tiger Woods to St. Thomas More, the lessons seem obvious. Whether you are skeptic or believer it is easy to be in love when the world is treating you well and the money is coming in. But can a husband still embrace his wife when life calls him a loser, and a wife still support her husband when, through no fault of his own, his money suddenly stops coming?

Today, I will hug my parents, laugh with my brothers and kiss my sisters. We will remember the good times, but in our minds, we know that the good times weren't always there, or all there was. My dad's slow talk and walk, and my mom's forgetfulness and wheelchair are visible reminders of this—but to those with faith they are also reminders of something else. It shows it wasn't only through the fun, but through the sickness and strokes, financial failings and foreclosures, arguments and fights that they stayed together too, and their faith in God and His Holy Catholic Church was the reason why. Like Duerson (was), I am now nearly halfway to that golden anniversary, and as Led Zeppelin's epic ballad Stairway to Heaven suggests, "there are two paths you can go by." May I be humbled and sobered by the tale of Double D's woes, but always choose the way of support over separation, prayer over despair. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad! I'm praying for you ("there's still time to change the road you're on") Double D! And most importantly, to my wife Jeanette ... I love you!

Student Faith (and Hart) at Notre Dame: Exhibit A (and B)

While my award-winning research staff, Fishers for Fighting Irish Thomas, was searching the web the other day for interesting and faithful links, it came upon the blog "Left Untitled" by Notre Dame underclassman A.S. Anderson. Not only is Aldrich's faith noteworthy in and of itself, but his blog also includes cool video links such as the brief but inspiring talk on the Lady on the Dome by recent ND grad Mark Hart. Click on and see for yourself ... as a confirmation your prayers for Our Lady's University are being answered ...

Cubs' Capers Continue: Carlos Zambrano, Michael Barrett ... and Tom Zbikowski at the Ol' Brawl Game

Were Chicago Cubs' "battery" mates Michael Barrett and Carlos Zambrano trying to make Notre Dame defensive back—and professional boxer—Tom Zbikowski feel at home when they staged a boxing match in the dugout during yesterday's Cubs-Braves slug fest/blowout?

Zbikowski was on hand to throw out the honorary first punch, I mean, PITCH as well as to sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" during Friday's seventh round ... er ... inning stretch. "I didn't get to see it," said Zbikowski of the fifth inning skirmish, which low-lighted the Cubs' fifth loss in a row and eleventh in their last fifteen, "but I remember Barrett from the fight [when Michael punched White Sox catcher A.J. Pierzynski] last year. Barrett has a nice right hand," added 'Tommy Z' (his boxing nickname) getting into the spirit. "He just had to turn his hips into it a little more and Pierzynski would have been down. If he ever needs lessons, he should let me know."

As it turns out Barrett probably could have used Zbikowski in his corner. Here's how the dispute unraveled into battle. Henry Blanco, Zambrano's usual catcher (and like Carlos, a native Venezuelan) was out with a neck injury which left Barrett behind the plate. In the top of the fifth, their signals got crossed as Michael, expecting a fastball, got a curve from Carlos instead. Barrett failed to block the ball and the runner on second raced for third. Unfortunately the Cub catcher then compounded the error by throwing the ball wildly past third into left field and the Brave runner than raced home to score.

After the half inning was over, the cameras caught Zambrano confronting Barrett, Carlos pointing to his own brain as if telling Michael to "use your head."

Not to be out done, Barrett then pointed to the scoreboard as if telling his ill-tempered pitcher that you were the one who gave up thirteen hits and seven runs; "six of which were earned." At that "point" all heck broke loose, with both players unloading enough punches to cinch the lead-in story for Sportscenter before teammates broke it up. But apparently the bout wasn't over, as sources confirmed the fight continued in the clubhouse with Barrett getting the worst of it, as the 6'5" 255 lb. pitcher landed his teammate in the hospital with a punch that rocked his jaw and split open his lip.

Many Fighting Irish fans will no doubt note the irony of the fact that the boxer Zbikowski was the Cubs' special guest yesterday, and the more astute will add the coincidence that Tom's roommate of the past two seasons, former ND All-American wide receiver Jeff Samardzija, is now a pitcher in the Cubs organization. But few will realize that Tom was singing the national pastime's theme song in honor of Harry Caray, long time Cubs announcer and devout Catholic. Caray's daily renditions of the song so endeared him to the Cub fans that his singing tradition (also commemorated by a statue outside of Wrigley Field) is continued at each home game by a bevy of celebrities. Caray loved the fans, didn't like losing, but especially hated bad baseball, and despite his die-hard rooting for the home team he wasn't afraid to criticize the Cubbies when they acted like babies either.

Meanwhile, back at Notre Dame, Charlie Weis has gotten diverse personalities such as the long-haired and free-spirited Samardzija and the ultra-intense mohawk-cut Zbikowski to not only play together as teammates but respect each other as persons. The difference is that (at least during eras of devout coaches) Notre Dame, unlike the Cubs, were united under the banner of one Woman, Our Lady. Perhaps, then, the Cubs' perpetual futility (which will hit one hundred years if they fail to win the World Series this season) is not a coincidence. When they get close to that goal as they did in 2003, they crumble and then blame fans (remember Bartman?) or fate rather than trust in teammates and faith. And this was in stark contrast to the champions of that season, the miracle Florida Marlins, who were led by daily mass Catholic manager Jack McKeon and, after their victory, declared St. Therese of Lisieux the team's Most Valuable Player.

So once again, the seemingly talented Cubbies have hit the skids, and all around Chicago fans both young and old are crying out for change. It may be a bit premature to bring the compatible and competitive Samardzija up from the minors to replace the competent but combustible Zambrano because of Jeff's youth. But at very least we could replace the theme song "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" with a Golden Domer singing a rousing rendition of "Notre Dame, Our Mother." I see a vision of the Bleacher Bums swaying in unison as Harry Caray, once again the Cubs' chief intercessor, is waving his microphone in heaven. And, once that catches on, can the Cubbies taking the field to the tune of the "Notre Dame Fight Song" be far behind?

Maybe then we don't have to "wait 'til next year" (or even the football season) after all ...

Memorial Day, War, and Notre Dame

"Where have all the flowers gone? ...
Gone to graveyards every one
Oh when will they ever learn?"
–Pete Seeger, from his song "Where Have All The Flowers Gone?"

"They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; One nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again" (Micah 4:3)–from today's reading.

In the VH1 show Behind the Music (a show about famous rock groups) the episode begins with the band struggling to make it, then after succeeding, succumbing to drugs, booze, sex, or all of the above, and then, in the final act, the surviving members trying to make it back. In the lives of the saints, the story starts with a holy man or woman giving their life to God, then enduring many physical and spiritual struggles as well as persecution from the jealous within and the heretics without before finishing the race and coming face-to-face with Christ. And on Memorial Day, there are always tales of young gung-ho soldiers gallantly going off to war, only to be cut down in the prime of their lives and never coming back, their once patriotic parents weeping at the passing ...

What to do about war, or how–or if–to fight them, is one of life's most difficult questions to answer. Indeed until all nations are governed by just men, it is difficult to imagine Micah's prophesy coming to pass. As for our own country, our wars are too filled with both patriotism and pathos. We tell our kids how cool it was that we defeated the British for our Independence with smaller forces firing from behind bushes and rocks as they fought in straight lines in open fields. Yet we don't take so kindly to such tactics when the opposition used similar subterfuge in Vietnam and now Iraq. We liberated the world from the demonic dictator Hitler who slaughtered six million innocent Jews, but in doing so, dropped bombs that killed thousands of innocent Japanese and made allies with the Satanic Stalin who enslaved most of western Europe while killing twenty million of his own people as well. We made America a land of freedom and opportunity, except for its natives who we slaughtered or banished to reservations ... or casinos ...

So looking back, we see even the just wars (WWII) unjust by St. Augustine's standards and the unjust wars just disgusting. We do not seem to learn from history, for although Augustine's Just War theory is still valid, it seems about as easy to accomplish as a rich man entering into the kingdom of heaven. Perhaps that is why I (as well as Lou Holtz and many other Irish observers) so cling to football—especially Notre Dame football—as the ultimate just war. For not only does football take place on a field with specific rules with almost no "collateral damage," the decision is nearly always decisive. And with the possible exception of when Notre Dame plays Boston College, it is always a battle of Our Lord and Our Lady against the forces of worldly wisdom. How we would get the nations to take up footballs instead of guns and solve their disagreement in this way I cannot say, but after watching today's Memorial Day Parade, I do know one thing:

I can't wait 'til fall for the Fighting Irish football season to begin.

A(nother) Notre Dame Hall of Famer: A Mother's Day Wish for Chris Zorich

Yes, I know what you're thinking. Mother's Day was a week ago. That is true, with the exception of two distinct groups of people. The first is devout Catholics, who due to their love for the Blessed Mother, every day in May is Mother's Day. The other is Chris Zorich.

The first part of this story is pretty straightforward and extremely inspiring. Last week, Christopher Zorich, Fighting Irish defensive lineman, from 1988-1991, was elected to the College Football Hall of Fame—conveniently located in South Bend, Indiana. Always the underdog, Zorich's saga is not unlike Rudy's, if Rudy had biceps like tree trunks and ran the 40 like a rabbit instead of a robot. Abandoned by his father and raised by his mother, Zora, in a one-room apartment at 81st St. and Burnham Avenue in Chicago, "the baddest part of town," Chris didn't always have enough to eat and was beat up by neighborhood toughs regularly, but did have one constant; the unmitigated love of his mother. So it hurt Chris tremendously the only time he went against her wishes, forging her signature so he could play football at Chicago Vocational High School. Here, he could dish out the punishment instead of take it, use his anger constructively instead of hold it in. Of course running (or shall we say "fleeing") was free, but Chris was too poor to afford weights so he stole two sewer caps and tied them to a bar, lifting them until he was a rock and he became such a terror for Vocational that, despite his short stature, he was offered a scholarship at Notre Dame. And this time Zora signed the slip—as soon as she was assured Notre Dame was in Indiana and not France!

Well as any Notre Dame fan of the Holtz era can tell you, Zorich not only found South Bend but helped lead the Fighting Irish to the National Championship in 1988, and 1st Team All-American Honors for himself in 1989 and 1990 capping his career with an MVP Award in the 1991 Orange Bowl, an almost unheard of honor for a defensive lineman.

But if Zorich's best and last game for the Irish was the best of times athletically, it was definitely the worst of times for him emotionally. After Notre Dame's heartbreaking 10-9 loss, Chris flew home to Chicago to find his diabetic mother dead literally of a broken heart. Chris' mom, his best friend, the woman he called twice a day all through college, the one person he truly lived for, was dead. And in some ways Chris has never been the same.

Not that his time since his Irish career has been wasted. After a decent seven-year pro career under Champions of Faith Coaches Mike Ditka and Dave Wannstedt, Chris went back to Notre Dame to earn a law degree, and now splits time between this and motivational speaking. Moreover, he is president of The Christopher Zorich Foundation, no doubt the best charitable organization in Chicago. Concentrating on his old neighborhood, Chris personally leads a door-to-door distribution of turkeys on Thanksgiving, toys on Christmas, and of course, flowers on Mother's Day.

And yet, in my mind, something is missing. I contrast Champions of Faith Coach Ray Meyer, well into his eighties, visiting his wife of nearly fifty years at her grave site every week for nearly twenty years with Chris, not yet forty, visiting his mom's grave every week for the same span of time, and it's just not the same. For Meyer left a family as well as coaching legacy, while Zorich is divorced, with no children, "alone except for my dogs." Amazingly Zorich, a Lutheran, went through Notre Dame totally devoted to his mother but never developing a love for Our Lady. He prayed before Bears practice every morning at Holy Name Cathedral without receiving communion. His mom's funeral was in a Catholic church and she was buried in a Catholic cemetery, but despite all this close contact, Chris (perhaps out of respect for his mother's own religion) never converted to the Church he has for so long lived in the shadow of.

Make no mistake. With his discipline both on and off the field, combined with his natural ability to relate to the poor, this Fighting Irish Hall of Famer is not far from crossing the threshold of sainthood. But just as one cannot truly become a saint unless he is within the Church that honors them, Chris' love for his earthly mom can never really be put in perspective outside the religion that honors Our Lady. Perhaps we should ask Zora herself to lead the former Chicago Vocational star to the faith where Chicago can be a vocation, and Notre Dame can not only be his Alma Mater—but his Mother as well.

Indiana Storm Kills One: Inspiring Spire Downed at Notre Dame

A thunderstorm with winds up to 70 m.p.h. swept through Northern Indiana last night killing one man and damaging many buildings including the Sacred Heart Basilica at the University of Notre Dame.

The fatality occurred when a tree fell on a man's car as he was driving down a Porter County road. Meanwhile at Notre Dame, one of the four spires atop Sacred Heart Church was toppled, and several large campus trees, including some at the Grotto, were ripped apart. "That's a fairly significant amount of damage to one of the university's most important landmarks," said university spokesman Dennis Brown, speaking of the damage to the church, although, fortunately the university was not aware of any storm-related campus injuries.

And so, in a storm that at its height knocked out power for 52,000 Indiana electric customers, Notre Dame came out relatively unscathed. Perhaps then the damage to Sacred Heart, while "significant," could also be looked at as symbolic, for although the university is making strides at becoming the Catholic university Her name would be always proud of (and IT is far from the Sodom and Gomorrah place critics claim) there are still some unorthodox offshoots that need to be eliminated, little spires of false teaching that have fallen away from the one true Church that need to be rebuilt. Only then will Notre Dame be truly pleasing to God, and the Lady on the Dome able to draw all believers to her Son.

The Irish Justice Scores Again! Bob Thomas Kick Starts Abortion Law

Former Fighting Irish and Chicago Bear field goal kicker Bob Thomas scored one for the good guys once again. Thomas, now the Chief Justice of the Illinois Supreme Court, revived a dormant 1995 state abortion parental notification law by dotting the law's "I's" and kicking it off the "T" back to Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan, this time making sure she would enforce it.

This contest really began back in 1995 when the Illinois State legislature passed a law requiring an abortion doctor to notify the parents or legal guardians of a girl under the age of eighteen who was seeking an abortion and do so at least two days prior to the procedure. But the law also provided for exceptions (for example, if the girl had been sexually abused by the parent or guardian) and it left it up to the Illinois Supreme Court to decide the extent of such waivers. Unfortunately, the then liberal state Supreme Court did absolutely nothing with the notification law for a year, at which time the ACLU, citing the fact there were no specific rules on which to apply it, won a 1996 federal court appeal blocking the law from taking effect.

Flash forward ten years, to a time where the Illinois high court is once again filled with conservatives, including Thomas as their head. Bob, whom many Irish fans may recall as the man who kicked the winning field goal in Notre Dame's 1973 National Championship Bowl game victory over Alabama, took it upon himself to close the law's loopholes, and then issued the long awaited rules governing its legal waivers. But Attorney General Madigan, a pro-abort Democrat, went into a four corner stall, first claiming the state court staff was not properly trained or equipped to handle such waiver requests, then saying because the law had been in limbo for so long, "the courts might need some time to get up to speed."

Fed up with Madigan's delay tactics, Thomas responded with a "full court" press. In other words, Thomas sent Lisa a letter signed by all the justices saying her office was "in error," and that Madigan MUST "presume, and therefore assert that, as with any new law, our state courts are prepared." And, just to make sure Lisa heard the word, Thomas then followed up the letter with a personal phone call. Not wishing to be held in contempt, Madigan now had no "choice" but to comply, and the law is finally ready to be enforced.

"There is nothing unethical [about the Supreme Court's letter or Thomas' phone call] but it's highly uncommon ... it's extraordinary ..." said Lawrence Rosenthal, former supervisor in Chicago's Law Department. Indeed, while Thomas' action may be just a chip shot in the chipping away of Roe vs. Wade, I predict his action vs. Madigan will become just as memorable in time as his decisive short kick against the Crimson Tide. And it also proves the truth of that famous Notre Dame saying, "It's nice to have a Fighting Irish (especially a Fighting Irish Thomas) in high places."

Eucharistic Procession at Notre Dame: A Great Idea after the Game

I received a great e-mail this week from Fr. Kevin Russeau, CSC, Director of Old College Undergraduate Seminary, which proclaimed the Third Annual Eucharistic Procession at Notre Dame. It will take place on Sunday, April 22nd, after 11:45 a.m. Mass at Sacred Heart Basilica (as well as a day after Fighting Irish's annual Blue & Gold spring intersquad football game). While he is not expecting the 30,000 plus that the game will draw Saturday, Fr. Kevin is optimistic that enough students from Notre Dame, St. Mary's and Holy Cross Jr. College (across the street from Notre Dame), as well as the Blessed-Sacrament-inspired general public, will join the staff of all three institutions to make this "a great public witness and devotion to the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist."

The procession will start at Notre Dame's church and proceed along the campus' "God Quad," stopping for Benediction before the statues of the Sacred Heart, Our Lady of Notre Dame, and Fr. Sorin before concluding back at the Golden Dome and grotto. And you needn't worry about getting weary after the journey, for the Notre Dame Knights of Columbus will provide refreshments and sack lunches for all at the conclusion of the celebration.

While prayer at a Eucharistic Adoration procession is powerful for any of its participant's intentions, Fr. Russeau noted that, in keeping with the desires of the founder of the Holy Cross order, Venerable Father Basil Anthony Moreau, three specific graces will be prayed for on that day. First, for a "greater respect of and protection for the rights of all human life from conception to natural death," second, "an increase of vocations to the religious life and priesthood especially in the Congregation of Holy Cross," and third, "blessings for the students, faculty, staff, religious, trustees, and administration of the three institutions of higher learning."

While this is definitely a grace-filled event for both the gung-ho Catholics and those who oppose Notre Dame (as it gets harder to call the University not Catholic when it is once again staging Eucharist processions), it also serves as a great kick-off not only to the football season (a spiritual companion to the spring game if you will) but to the celebration of the beatification of Fr. Moreau himself which will take place in France on Sept. 15, 2007. And THIS date is not only the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows (one of Fr. Moreau's favorites), but the day the Fighting Irish meet up with Michigan at the Big House, perhaps its toughest road game of the season. And although Fr. Moreau (who personally sent Fr. Sorin to the United States to found Our Lady's University) may not be pleased with some of the secular shenanigans introduced at ND by his successors, he certainly will be happy to see his desire for Eucharistic Adoration here continued through his name, and his intercession will no doubt be helpful to the Irish that day during the big game.

And so, I ask all true fans of Our Lady to either attend this holy march next Sunday or pray for Fr. Moreau's intentions that day from home. And, yes, Fighting Irish fans, including you non-Catholics, this is for you too. Knute Rockne himself spent ten years praying at Eucharistic Adoration (in front of the Blessed Sacrament in Sacred Heart Church) before he decided to become a member of the Catholic Church—and THAT was only after he was invited to join by the players of his most famous team, the Four Horsemen and the Seven Mules. Consider THIS your invitation; Notre Dame needs your participation. "The Rock" (not to mention Frs. Moreau and Russeau) would be so proud!

For more information about this Eucharistic Procession, please contact Fr. Kevin Russeau, CSC, at Russeau.3@nd.edu.