Right With the World

Scene: As Notre Dame scored for the second time of the day our daughters dance by, twirling in front of the tv in their Cinderella ball gowns, singing about princes and dreams coming true while obscuring our view of the instant replay. Steve waxes poetic about how, as a kid, he would put on his red Nebraska jersey every Saturday, eyes glued to the t.v. (almost wrote tb there, which would take this story in a whole new direction) until half-time, when he would run outside to throw the football up in the air and catch it as many times as he could before the game started again. I remember blue and gold jerseys and waiting outside of the locker room at Notre Dame, hoping to catch an autograph or two from the team when they came out. Just as Steve heaves a big sigh for things that won’t be, Ella comes out of nowhere and lays her sister flat with a mighty tackle from behind, and starts singing the fight song (only in her version, the “mighty sons” go marching “to and fro to victory”). Ad picks up her high heels and chases after her, waving a glass slipper and threatening retribution, and all was right with the world.

(and then Notre Dame lost and we sent them to bed without supper. The end.)

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What a weekend for college football, huh? It feels good to be back again. For past pigskin pearls of wisdom, consult 0-3, First Down, and Cheer, Cheer for Old Notre Dame.

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