The Gift of Notre Dame

As I was watching Notre Dame play Michigan last week, I really got emotional.  That team, that stadium, that place is so rife with tradition.  I'm so fortunate I got to experience so much of it.  You see, my brother went to school at Notre Dame, and that means by extension, so did his family.

It started out with me going out there when we were both in school, and while I can't remember the game itself (who they played or the score, although I think it may have been a win against Purdue...), I absolutely remember everything else about it - the walk from the church to the game, the band, the pushups, the site, the song.  It was college football heaven.

See for yourself:



Since that first visit, there've been many others.  I've guess I've seen ND play well over a half dozen times in the stadium, plus a couple of more on the road at bowl games.  That's why when the broadcast showed the grotto in an intro, or took a shot from the end zone (where I'd bet we sat at least four times), or anything else that was familiar, I just felt lucky.  I felt lucky that my brother was generous enough to share all this with me.  

And that's what it was (and still is) - generosity.  From carting me around and showing me things that had likely become mundane when we were young students, to finding excuses for us to get together for a game when life had become so busy as adults, Notre Dame was a gift given to me by him.  

The Irish Guard.  Key plays.  The flyovers.  The band.  The announcer.  Touchdown Jesus.  #1 Moses.  The players (my goodness, the players we saw).  

But out of all of that, the best part was always this:



Thanks, Kev.  This is just one in a long line of gifts you've given me, and I can't thank you enough for letting me be a part of your alma mater.