Rags to Riches

Dateline Cambridge/New Haven: Last week while gridironers from Harvard and Yale were running through their early fall practices tuning up for their "preseason" schedule in final preparation for The Game, a band of bawdy Irishmen descended from the hinterlands (Chestnut Hill and South Bend, Ind.) and staged a coup. Boston College versus Notre Dame; the Game for 1975.

The legacy of Leahy, Rock and Ara suddenly made all the ballyhoo over a Crimson-Eli confrontation seem embarrassingly small-time. "We're talking Real football," were the cries, "Not this Ivy league, Pop Warner variety but bigtime top 20 football." The argument was convincing. Foxboro here I come.

Festivities had been in full swing for three days prior to The Game and by the time I arrived to board the bus to Mecca (Schaefer Stadium) I felt a little like a fish out of water. I, unlike the 60,000 other pilgrims, was sober.

The Eagle bus monitor who was clad head to toe in maroon and gold hoisted me onto a Hyannis-bound charter. Could the bus company have misinterpreted its instructions? Perhaps its idea of The Game of the year between two Irish powers was a little touch football action at the Kennedy compound.

Some screaming Eagle, Class of 52, had a bullhorn in the back of the bus and was leading the alums in a rousing rendition of "For Boston." The busdriver shook his head painfully.

By the time we hit Route 1 traffic had begun to back up. The bus convoy's game plan went into effect. Working out of the I-formation, but 81 threw a key block, wiping out the left land. Using an intercom system for a huddle the next five buses made their move, sweeping and leaving an array of stalled cars in the wake of their fumes. In a systematic fashion the convoy weaved its way through the opposing traffic; gainers interspersed with long breakdown lane sweeps.

The pre-game tailgating was all I had expected. Reports had it that folks had begun arriving just after Sunday Mass. It was a 9 p.m. Monday night game. Liturgical football, a pilgrimage of the first order, beer cans on the side of the road paved the path for lost, wayward souls.

Protocol called for dogs and beah, and with Shaefer's finest firmly in hand I ascended the steps to join the largest crowd in the stadium's history. I had some how finagled my way to seats on the 50, sandwiched between members of the board of overseers of B.C. Priests sprinkled among the crowd were obviously burdened with the choice: Should they cheer for BC and pray for Notre Dame or cheer for ND and pray for the Eagles? There was also a clear David-and Goliath parallel here with the bulk of the crowd in the kid's corner. The Goodyear blimp looked on uncommittedly.

The already-hysterical crowd was prodded on by the Screamin' Eagle Marhcing Band, and the scoreboard lit up advertising the "Shamrock Shuffle Post-Game Party at the Bay State Raceway."

I was still unconvinced that this was any better than the halftime frolics and ever-so-witty band antics of Soldiers Field. BC won the toss and elected to receive. Pandemonium broke loose. The Eagles returned to the 30-yard line with out fumbling. Again a standing ovation.

Notre Dame finally held and a series of Irish National flags popped up in the crowd. A kid with a Holy Cross jacket wandered aimlessly through the crowd; a kid with a Holy Cross jacket wandered aimlessly through the crowd; a man without a country. The halftime ended with the score knotted at three a piece. This was one the Gipper wouldn't get.

Somewhere along the line, however, the Fighting Irish pushed across a quick seven. And we'll just lay these Eastern boys in the coffin like this...Another touchdown...And hammer it shut like so.

I was appalled. A measly 14 points was enough for Goliath to slay David? Sorry but I'm from the land of 16 points in 48 seconds and touchdowns scored on Holt to McInally to Curry passes and where the game isn't over till the last out. But when the board of overseers unanimously voted to leave with almost ten minutes left I shook my head thinking of what they were going to miss. Top 20 football is a business, however, and for the same reasons that IBM doesn't fall off the stock market, Notre Dame did not fold. I left looking forward to November 22, Harvard-Yale The Game.