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It’s Sept. 7, 2024, the morning of my first ever Notre Dame football game. I am awakened by a huge speaker blasting that
one epic Irish song (the one where the lady shouts “Here come the Irish!”) at full volume. After waking up, putting on this year’s The Shirt, spending the morning hanging out with my buddies and setting a new world record for the most free tailgate food ever eaten over a two-hour period, I sit down in the freshman section of Notre Dame Stadium. The boys run out of the tunnel, the crowd cheers so loud the library shakes and the ball is kicked off.

What follows is the most glorious game of football I’ve ever watched.

Not even halfway through the first quarter, we score a touchdown, and what an incredible play it is! Our boys rush through the Northern Illinois University (NIU) defense and slam the ball home and the crowd goes nuts. Shirts are thrown high into the air. Bodies are thrown even higher. I turn to help my pals with touchdown push-ups and receive a shoe to the face for my trouble. We throw the poor kid so high in the air, he sees Touchdown Jesus (and probably the real Jesus, too). The chaos is real and the atmosphere is electric. These are the moments I live for!

Then ... tragedy strikes.

I drop my water bottle.

I am forced to duck down and brave the filth of the student section bleachers to retrieve my precious water. As I search the swamp of old pretzel bites, melted Dippin’ Dots and suspiciously small plastic bottles, I hear the crowd groan. I have no idea what’s going on up there, but luckily, I find my water bottle.

Unfortunately, it is empty, and so I must leave the bleachers to refill it. While I rehydrate, I feel a strong gust of wind, like thousands of people disappointedly exhaling at once. Perplexed, I return to my seat.

The rest of the half plays out. Upon returning from halftime, I witness the most incredible touchdown I have ever seen. One of our boys grabs the ball, vaults over an NIU player with a leap that would make Super Mario proud and runs like a bolt of golden lightning straight into the end zone. Glorious chaos strikes once more! Students are hoisted into the air, more shirts go flying and I get an entire cup of (ideally) water dumped down the back of my shirt by a very enthusiastic freshman (which, incidentally, causes me to accidentally splash the contents of my own water bottle onto the poor soul standing in front of me).

The end of the game draws near, and besides the fact that the blazing sun has scorched my face to a perfect lobster red color, I couldn’t be more excited. 

Perplexed, my friends interrogate me. “Why are you so excited? Can’t you see the score?”

“Of course I can, what are you talking about? 14.00! It says so right there!”

“Bro, where are you even looking?”

I point at the scoreboard.

“Dude, that’s an ad for the new Chick-fil-A sandwich. The
scoreboard is over there.”

Whoops. I guess leaving my glasses in my dorm might not have been the best idea.

The rest is history ... the game finishes, we return to our dorms, I invest half my life savings into sunburn lotion and aloe vera. One of my residence hall brothers makes a profound comparison between Notre Dame football and the Book of Job.

Even though we might not have taken home the win, I still had the time of my life. I made some new friends, almost broke my vocal chords cheering for the boys and experienced some of the best of what the Notre Dame community has to offer.

That $14.00 Chick-fil-A sandwich wasn’t half-bad either.