After we ate, Chad started the game-day experience in earnest. We were taken to see the Notre Dame Glee Club sing. Then the Irish football team walked from the Gug, past the Hesburgh Library and then to the stadium. It was a tradition that the team went to the Gug on Saturday afternoons for some last-minute meetings. They would enter the house that Rockne built through the tunnel gates.
We then were taken to Bond Hall where the marching band played. Chad then took us to the stadium where we met the rest of the recruits at a tailgate party. I spotted a player with a King High School jersey on. I made a point to meet everyone but saved him for last.
“David Dawson.”
“Todd, David,” he said as he shook my hand. “Wait a minute. You’re the Dawson we play in Indianapolis. I’m not sure if I should like you or not.”
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage. What position do you play?” I asked.
“Linebacker.”
Todd was a big boy for a linebacker. He was at least six-three, and I would guess around 240 pounds. I would later find out he was also a five-star recruit. A five-star recruit was rare, and many recruiting services threw around star ratings. The rating system went from two to five stars. Don’t ask me why there were no one-stars; it was just how they did it.
There was what was called a composite rating. They used a mathematical formula that takes into account a prospect’s ranking and rating listed in the public domain by the major media recruiting services. It converts average ranks and ratings into a composite index capping at one, which indicates a consensus number 1 prospect across all services.
The different recruiting sites broke down the top recruits in different ways. One of them has a Top 300. If you were rated in the top fifty, you were a five-star recruit. 51–300 were four-star, and if you weren’t on the list, you were either a three- or a two-star recruit. Other services only rated the top twenty-five to thirty prospects as five-star.
One of the websites describes a five-star player as one that has a rare talent:
A player who demonstrates a rare ability.
One who can create mismatches that have an obvious impact on the game.
A player who has the skills to take over a game.
One who could make a possible impact as a true freshman.
One who will potentially earn All-American honors.
One who will probably have a three-and-out college career with early entry into the NFL draft.
Bill had been a four-star recruit and was named the best player in our state his senior year. Jim was also considered a four-star recruit by the scouting services. When I found out that Todd was a five-star, he had my interest. Notre Dame had to be happy to have this much talent on campus.
Last year, USC had led the nation in recruiting. Alabama had been number 1 for five straight years and had to settle for second place. USC had pulled five five-star athletes into their class, and sixteen four-stars. The top team in the Big 10 was Ohio State, and they hadn’t signed any five-star athletes. Notre Dame was unable to entice any, either.
“So, you’ll be the one trying to catch me when we play,” I said.
“You can count on it. I’ll be your worst nightmare. You might want to get my number tattooed on your chest to remind you of who’s going to put you on your butt all game.”
I liked him. I would have to show him who would put whom on their butt. After we had some grilled pork chops, we went into the stadium. The marching band did their pregame show, and we settled in for the game.
We really didn’t know what to expect from USC. While this was a big rivalry game, they had lost their head coach on Monday. It looked like his drinking issues had caught up with him. The athletic director had done the smart thing and promoted an interim head coach from within.
On paper, Notre Dame should win the game easily. The Fighting Irish were ranked number 14 and had revenge on their minds after being routed by USC last year. I thought the Trojans would come out fired-up because the uncertainty of the coaching situation had been resolved for now. The only problem was their preparation had been hindered by the turmoil. I expected it would be a good game and looked forward to seeing Bill get the start.
From the beginning, the Notre Dame fans were loud and on their feet. I scanned the stadium to try to find an empty seat. This was college football like it should be. In this corner of northern Indiana, Fighting Irish football was king. The marching band formed a giant ND and awaited their team. The Fighting Irish were in their gold and blue uniforms, and the crowd greeted them, confident of a victory. USC then came onto the field in their distinctive crimson and white uniforms.
I could imagine both playing home games here, and coming in as the visitor. This was one of a handful of renowned stadiums in which to play college football. As a fan of the game, it was one of the places you had to go to see a game.
USC started the first series with a bang. Bill ran a jet up the sideline, and their quarterback hit him in stride in the opening between the cornerback and safety; Bill had found that opening for me many times. He was tackled on the 6 yard line. USC’s quarterback kept the ball the next play to score.
Notre Dame’s freshman quarterback dropped back and answered the call. He found a streaking wide receiver behind the USC secondary. Someone had made a mistake, and the score was tied at seven all.
On the next drive, USC kicked a long field goal to make it 10–7. Notre Dame’s run game ripped off two long ones against a porous USC defense to retake the lead 14–10. Finally, someone played some defense and USC was stopped. Unfortunately for USC, their special teams failed them, and the Fighting Irish blocked the punt to score. The first quarter ended 21–10.
At the start of the second quarter, Notre Dame was driving again. On the 1 yard line, USC forced a fumble to prevent the rout. USC had a good drive going, but the Fighting Irish defense made a stand and forced a punt. The return man almost broke it, and then the run game kicked in again. USC was able to slow the Fighting Irish down enough to only give up a field goal, making it 24–10.
I looked at the clock, and the half was running out. I had resigned myself to accepting that it wasn’t the Trojans’ day. Then they did a nifty backward pass towards the sideline. The receiver set up and threw a long pass to a wide-open receiver on the trick play to make it 24–17. The Trojans got the football back, and they did a little screen pass that suddenly found a seam. Just like that, USC had come roaring back, and the score was now 24–all.
During halftime, the Notre Dame fans were a little stunned. They had this game in hand, but with two quick strikes, USC was back in it. It reminded me of what Bud Mason said: plays of twenty-plus yards demoralized your opponent. At the start of the third quarter, USC drove the ball the length of the field and took the lead 31–24.
I thought USC had turned the corner and might actually win the game. Both teams traded possessions in the third quarter. At the beginning of the fourth, the Fighting Irish got something going and scored to tie the game. Then the Irish paid USC back with their own wide-receiver backward-pass trick play. A couple of plays later it was 38–31 in favor of the Irish.
USC took a long shot downfield to try to get back into the game, but the ball was underthrown and was picked off. Notre Dame didn’t try to grind the game out and use their running game. They took a long shot down the field, and it was completed, setting up a field goal to take a 41–31 lead.