Notre Dame Football: What Would Top the 1977 National Championship?
Sometimes, you can set the bar too high. I’m talkin’ higher than a reggae crowd at a free Bob Marley concert.
In my freshman year at Notre Dame, the rectors generally frowned on us getting higher than a reggae crowd at a free Bob Marley concert, so many of us turned to the hardest drug on campus: Irish football.
Sure, there was Star Wars and the super-blockbuster Smokey and the Bandit (Burt Reynolds' best shot at an Academy Award), and disco was almost as hot as the lime-green polyester leisure suits they spawned.
Luckily for us, in 1977, as crazy as it may seem today, Notre Dame football was even bigger than disco.
Coach Dan Devine and Joe Montana led the Irish to an 11-1 season. Along the way, I watched a truck load of green jerseys run out of the tunnel and straight over USC, 49-19, and keep right on going through big Earl Campbell and a shell-shocked Texas team 38-10 in the Cotton Bowl.
When the smoke cleared from the endless piles of steer cinders, the Irish had so impressed the country with the beatdown of an undefeated Texas team they jumped from No. 5 in the country to No. 1, earning something the more learned media types commonly referred to as a national championship.
For a college freshman adjusting to the brutal academic routine augmented by my independent study of the natural science of drinking beer without passing out, it was a pretty tough act to follow.
But as the years and the advent of lite beer have now given me some perspective, I can finally tell you what it would take for the Irish to top it.
Requirement No. 1: Win Every Game
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The one blemish on the chiseled face of the 1977 Irish was a 20-13 road loss to a 5-6 Ole Miss team that the most scholarly of the SEC professors would say, "Warn't that good."
Then as now, if you're an Irish Catholic kid playing around in a Bible-thumpin' SEC church, expect a good beating. Mississippi did not disappoint.
This was the first time my college football team had ever lost, and ironically, it had to be to those damn SEC Baptists, and if I don't miss my guess, they probably cheated then too.
Needless to say, the tragedy was felt deep within the common areas of Flanner Hall. I drank to forget, couldn't, then drank some more. Heavy drinking for a college freshman has only one end. The visual of what the community restroom looked like at 4:00 a.m. would sicken a coroner.
Coach Devine had been wise enough to keep his dog in the house, so unlike his losing years in Green Bay, no animals suffered.
I survived only because discovering the less-than-awesome science of a hangover took my mind off a deeply painful loss.
Over the years the pain has gone, but the scar is still there.
Requirement No. 2: A Complete Offense
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In today’s college football, there are lots of one-trick ponies. Ask yourself, does Rich Rodriguez really know another play besides the read option? My freshman high school team had more plays than Alabama, although I'll grant you we had a few less 330-pound, 4.9 forty guys on our offensive line.
When it comes to offense, there's nothing like having more weapons than a ninja at a redneck knife show.
Joe Montana led an offense that featured fast and bruising running backs Vagus Ferguson and Jerome Heavens. Kris Haines was a flat-out burner with hands on the outside.
Ken MacAfee was one of a long line of ND tight ends that could knock you on your ass, step on your chest, grab a quick cuppa joe and still catch an eight-yard out for a first down.
The line featured future NFL pros like Tim Foley, Dave Huffman and Ernie Hughes, and believe me, at game time opposing defensive lines resembled pinballs more than pass rushers. When you played ND in 1977, people got hurt.
Best of all, there were no gimmicks in the 1977 Notre Dame offense.
It would run you over, screen you, throw underneath, kill you over the top and steal your date—and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it but tell her to have fun and try to get home early.
Requirement No. 3: Total Defensive Domination
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It’s great to score in bags and bunches, but there’s nothing quite like watching somebody’s high-powered offense wrecked worse than Lindsay Lohan on a six-day bender.
Just ask Alabama fans how they felt after the Tide destroyed MSU’s offense last year—I got a contact buzz just watching it.
In 1977, Notre Dame had a good defensive year statistically, but that wasn’t what it was all about.
Ross Browner, Willie Fry, Bob Golic and Luther Bradley didn’t just beat you, they made it so scoring wasn’t nearly so important as surviving.
Best of all, you didn’t even have to watch that '77 team hit anybody, you could just close your eyes and listen, and mother was that a sweet sound.
.jpg?w=256 "Ohio State Team Doctor")
Requirement No. 4: Embarrass the SEC
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If 19th century French author Marie Joseph Eugene Sue is correct, revenge is a meal best served cold. I am therefore ready to wolf down a seven-course meal of frozen food.
I want that 1977 Mississippi team to know ND will damn well finish what Ole Miss started.
More than anything, I want to see Nick Saban and Les Miles cry.
I want to open at Alabama with the Crimson Tide as the consensus preseason No. 1, and I want to destroy them. By 50. Then I want a tearful Saban to publically thank Brian Kelly for taking it easy on them in the second half.
I want an undefeated LSU to lose to Notre Dame in the Sugar Bowl BCS title game 247-0.
In the postgame press conference, I want Les Miles to admit in a shaking voice that yes, the SEC cheats all the time and that the 2007 LSU Sugar Bowl win was a total fluke.
Three weeks later, as a direct result of getting their ass kicked, I want the SEC to formally admit that the South did indeed lose the Civil War.
In a novel move, having seen the tremendous impact of players that can actually read and write, I want the SEC Board of Regents to declare they are seriously considering passing a resolution to start having players go to class.
If you can’t tell, I hate the SEC so much it gives me energy.
I want my revenge.
Summary
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In the scheme of things, I’m not asking for much here.
In 1977, for me, Notre Dame football was the second-most important thing in the world, slightly behind beer and one notch above air. It was my religion, and I was a true believer.
As with all faiths, ND could do no wrong, and my Irish would have had it all had we beaten that SEC Mississippi team in Week 2.
The dominating defense, the total offense, the undefeated season and bragging rights over anything SEC were so close I could almost sip it along with the illegal keg of beer I hid in my wardrobe closet. I was eight points and one game of quarter bounce away from the perfect year.
As I fast forward to today, 34 years and 75 extra pounds later, I still want it.
So Brian Kelly, if you're reading this, help me out.
You have a versatile enough offense, and appear well on your way to building an intimidating defense. If Jack Swarbrick will twist a few arms to get Alabama in the annual kickoff classic next year, I think we may be good to go. I'll throw in $25 to start things moving.
And Lord, if you really are Irish, do your thing.
It's been awhile, and I’m ready.
Thanks for your tolerance as I waxed nostalgic—one case of Guinness and next thing you know I'm blabbering all over the place. Let me know if you have a great team or memory you want to share—I'd love to hear it.
.jpg?w=480 "Ohio State Team Doctor")
