Here Come the Irish (Part 2 cont'd)

partiers on the dance floor, then said goodnight and headed to the room.

He fell into bed, and singing softly, drifted to sleep.  "The march is on, no brain or brawn, can stop the charge of fighting men..."

All of a sudden he was awake - the sound of voices, footsteps … thunder, and he knew - it was gameday.

He dressed quickly, anxious to get moving.  Then the once over: game ticket; navy shirt with gold NOTRE DAME across the chest, and the gold interlocking logo ND, below, Navy cap with that same gold logo ND and “Irish” in gold, below, on the crown - basic, classic – the perfect look; fold-up schedule of games, nationwide; line-ups; shades; binos; camera; cash; raingear.  Check.

Pulling out of the motel lot he felt the fresh, positive energy and anticipation of gameday. The pace was quickened, all roads led to campus, and anything was possible.

He headed down 31 to Angela, then east in the crawling traffic, past Notre Dame Blvd. to a small lot on the south side of Angela, that he had spotted, yesterday.  He squeezed into a parking space, popped open the trunk and took out his raingear.  A two-piece set: waterproof hooded parka and pants – designed to keep you dry, no doubt.  But he was torn – he didn’t want to carry the stuff, to keep up with it.

Of course, if it rained as predicted, he would regret not having it, for sure.  He checked the sky.  Clouds were moving, weren’t they?  Moving east?  He could imagine it clearing off.  What does the weatherman know, anyway? On the other hand, it’s a long time to the final gun.  Anything can happen.  60% chance. Obviously, an emotional reaction was called for.  “Luck of the Irish,” he said.  He tossed the raingear into the trunk, slammed the lid, turned on his heel and took off toward the stadium at a fast trot.       

Notre Dame does not allow recreational vehicles on campus, but tailgating is top-notch, nonetheless.  Cap strolled through the Joyce lots south of the stadium, as tailgaters were setting up flagpoles, television cables and electrical hook-ups, grills, chairs, tables covered with food, and drinks. Footballs were flying across the lot, and a teenage Joe Montana winged one towards a buddy, in Cap’s vicinity.  Cap stretched out and intercepted. “Lucky catch,” said the surprised teen.  “Dying quail,” said Cap, as he rifled it back.

He headed west, then north up Notre Dame Blvd. to the Main Circle with the statue Our Lady of the University, past the statue of Father Edward Sorin, founder of the University, and on toward the Dome.  The Student Association was setting up grills and tables across the Quad at several locations, and he felt a few sprinkles of rain, just before he entered The Huddle.  He seized a mocha latte’ and found a seat in front of a big-screen.  ESPN GameDay was coming on; live from Raleigh for Miami, Fla. at NC State.

Cap stepped out of The Huddle onto the LaFortune porch, and fished for his shades. The sun was bright and the sky was clear, a deep blue. The clouds had moved out, right on cue.  His view from the porch – the area in front of the Dome - was of the ultimate, autumn pre-game scene.  Color.

It was mid-October, the foliage was at its peak, and every fall color radiated in the sun – leaves of gold, red, green, brown, burgundy, and orange in the huge trees, and floral colors of red, yellow and green in the garden around the statue of Jesus.  Irish fans filled the Quad, clad in gold, blue and green.  Smoke from the charcoal grills drifted through the sun’s rays, into the trees. The student bagpiper corps played in front of Crowley Hall.  And above it all, the Golden Dome presided, gleaming in the sunlight.

The air was crisp, invigorating – low 50’s, slight breeze.  Perfect football weather.

Cap got in line for a student-charcoal-grilled brat, and enjoyed it on a bench under the hardwoods, as an endless procession of fans wandered by.

Kickoff was set for 1:30 – Notre Dame is probably the only team in the nation that still has 1:30 home game kickoffs – but Cap was not surprised, really.  Notre Dame obviously knows how to hang on to the good stuff.

At 11:45, the team came out of the Basilica, dressed in suits and ties, and down the walk to the stadium, through fans who lined the walkway, applauding, hollering encouragement.  The head coach, Tyrone Willingham, brought up the rear, as is the custom.  As soon as they had passed, the throng headed for the band concert, on the steps of Bond Hall.

Cap moved with the crowd, and the area in front of the Hall was filled when he arrived.

Bond Hall and the band were framed in autumn colors.  He worked his way through the crowd, toward the building, as the band started.  They played several Irish favorites, while members of the Irish Guard stood for inspection, by section leaders, nearby.

Members of the Irish Guard are present on campus before the game, for photos with fans.  They are courteous and cooperative, stoic and silent. Cap asked a student to take his picture with two of the Guard members.  “Thanks guys, it’s a keeper,” he said.  No response.

The concert ended, and Cap followed the crowd back to the area in front of the Main Building, where the band assembled for the “step off” to the stadium. Cap made a last-minute visit to a student grill in front of LaFortune, loading up for the battle. Waiting for the band to start, he recalled the words of Lou Holtz, "On a fall weekend, when the leaves are turning, the band is playing, and the stands are filled with singing fans, Notre Dame is the most beautiful place on earth."

The Band of the Fighting Irish stepped off from the Main Building, through a long, thick corridor of fans.  The Leprechaun led the way, followed by the cheerleaders, the Irish Guard and the Band, who started with "The Victory March,” then "Hike, Notre Dame,” as they marched.

As the Band passed, the crowd fell in behind and followed, a surging wave of Irish Faithful - Domers, Double Domers, subway alums, die-hards of every age and size, in blue, gold and green - drawn to another autumn showdown. Cap was right in the middle, swept along with the multitude - burger in one hand, brat in the

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