Notre Dame Magazine invites personal essays of no more than 250 words on subjects of nostalgic interest to alumni of all ages. Selected submissions will be published in a future print edition or online at magazine.nd.edu. Please send fun, meaningful or evocative stories from your student days on the topics listed below to associate editor Michelle Cuneo at mmcdani2@nd.edu. New topics to come each issue.
THE LAKES: Deadline February 2, 2025
PRANKS: Deadline May 4, 2025
An unlikely coach
During the fall of my freshman year in 1975 I got a request from my roommate, Dan Cole. He was on the Stanford Stud interhall hockey team, and they needed someone to help with the line changes. I was asked because I wore a watch with a second hand — not all that common back then. All I was asked to do was let the team know when two minutes had passed so they could change forwards and defensemen.
I agreed to do this under one condition: I would be on the bench and wear a jacket and tie to give the appearance of being the team’s coach. After wins, my dormmates would congratulate me on my coaching, jokingly. I did this all four years, and Stanford won two championships. The team awarded me the ND letter given to each member of a championship team. All because I had a watch with a second hand.
There was only one negative event in my hockey “coaching career.” One night the team was shorthanded for practice and asked me to fill in. I could barely skate and had never tried it with a hockey stick. When I mentioned I had no skates, our goalie asked me my shoe size. Sure enough, he had regular hockey skates my size. I spent a cold winter evening at an outdoor rink standing in the middle of the ice while the Stanford team practiced around me.
— Ed Kelin ’79
Intercepted dreams
As an intense college football fan — and a pretty mediocre high school athlete — I was looking forward to participating in interhall flag football. I had dreams of playing in November in Notre Dame Stadium, running for a touchdown with all my friends and family cheering my name.
At our first practice, our Dillon Hall coaches separated us into different positions. My Tim Brown-esque hopes evaporated quickly when I was assigned to play center and nose tackle.
A few games into the season, with a zero-and-something team win-loss record, our quarterback broke her arm during a game. Our coaches looked at us and asked if anyone could throw a football. Being a wildly overconfident people-pleaser with four older brothers, I volunteered. Man, it was a disaster. I threw probably four passes, and all were intercepted.
Our Howard Hall team never made it to the Stadium. I honestly don’t remember our scoring many touchdowns. But afterward, walking back from those fields beyond Grace and Flanner in our green jerseys, we bonded and laughed.
Interhall football is such a uniquely Notre Dame experience, and it gave me a chance to learn a whole lot of humility, have a ton of fun and further cement that community was what mattered and what made Notre Dame home.
— Anne Hosinski Watson ’99
An invitation
When you grow up with a physical disability, opportunities to play team sports are not abundant. At least they weren’t in the 1980s. So, despite my love of football, baseball and basketball, the prosthetic limbs I wore prevented me from joining a youth league or high school team.
Imagine my surprise when, in the fall of 1995, some buddies from St. Edward’s Hall suggested I join them for men’s interhall soccer. It wasn’t that I couldn't play sports, I just hadn’t been invited. Not inviting someone is really akin to disinviting them.
It was my senior year and by saying (a surprised) yes, I got to know noble men of St. Ed’s I had never met. As a smaller dorm, we actually had a competitive chance in soccer, unlike football and basketball, where the larger dorms dominated. And even though I called myself a “three-goal guy” — meaning that my midfield skills were only put to use if we were up or down by three goals — I felt the high of practicing every day, of team meals and our small residence hall making it to the semifinals.
One late October afternoon, the slanted sun was setting, and we were down by one goal. Suddenly a whistle pierced the air signaling the match was over. I was crushed; my very first season being part of a team was over. Then one of my dorm brothers came over and said, “Hey, man. Thank you for everything you taught us.”
— Alex Montoya ’96
A silver lining
I toyed with the idea of playing small college football and possibly earning a scholarship to help my parents afford tuition for five kids and the lifelong care of my developmentally disabled sister, Mary.
I’m sure I shocked their budget when Notre Dame accepted me, and I told my parents I could still play football in Notre Dame’s interhall program.
So it began.
I was a two-way starter for Grace Hall and playing football at Notre Dame was the thrill of my life. The games were spirited and competitive, often featuring talented high school All-Americans.
Senior year, we reached the championship game, but disappointingly the game wasn’t played in the Stadium as in years past, but instead under the lights on Cartier Field.
I’ll never forget stretching on the artificial turf as it started to glow green under me while the lights warmed up. In the stands were my parents and family, including my sister Mary.
We lost a heartbreaker that night. Forever seared in memory was taking off my pads in my dorm room, knowing this was the end of my football glory days.
Life is full of silver linings if the heart is open to them. My beautiful sister Mary, my biggest fan, cheered for her big brother loud and proud. It didn’t matter I wasn’t playing the game in Notre Dame Stadium or that Grace Hall lost that night. My silver lining was the precious memory of Mary cheering for me playing football at Notre Dame.
— Kevin Quinlan ’82
Freshman recruit
In the mid-1960s, I enjoyed and participated in the interhall and club basketball program. My teammates and I switched teams every year as we looked to gain an edge over the other teams, always looking for a new guy to add to our roster to give us a lift.
My roommate was from Canton, Ohio, so my senior year I was playing basketball for the Canton Club with him. He indicated that there was a football recruit from his old high school who was a freshman and a good athlete. We grabbed him for our team to improve our rebounding.
We did well during the regular season and qualified for the playoffs in the Field House. A close contest in the fourth quarter saw us call a timeout. We looked to our freshman recruit and said we needed him to crash the boards a little better, using his superior size. He replied, “They are pushing me around.” We broke out laughing and went on to lose the game.
Did I forget to say that our freshman recruit was Alan Page ’67? He learned how to push people around, becoming one of the all-time greats for the Fighting Irish football team.
— Jerry Lefere ’64
A Rudy moment
Following the 1961 high school football season, I was named to the All-Southeastern Ohio All-Star team. I wasn’t named to the first team or the second team but was an “honorable mention” on offense as a pulling guard and on defense as an outside linebacker. I was a football star!
After the season was over, I received a letter of acceptance to Notre Dame. I had my Rudy moment. I told myself: “I will play football at Notre Dame!”
I was 5-foot-10 and 165 pounds. But there was a family tradition of growth after high school. Uncle Jim was my size in high school but after graduation was 6 feet tall and almost 200 pounds. Perhaps I would have the family’s growth spurt.
Before the end of my first semester, I tipped the scale at 205 pounds, but still measured only 5-foot-10. I had broken my ankle playing touch football on the lawn in front of Keenan Hall the day before classes began. Hobbled with a walking cast, I could only navigate my way to class and to the North Dining Hall. I didn’t miss a meal.
But I did play football at Notre Dame. I wore the Iron Cross leather helmet, just like Paul Hornung ’57 wore on the cover of Sports Illustrated. After some disciplined weight loss, I played wide receiver on the Alumni Hall team in interhall football.
— Joe Synan ’66
Good luck, bad luck
I had never played full-pad tackle football before arriving as a freshman at St. Edward’s Hall in 2000. All 175 pounds on my 6-foot-2-inch frame, I was excited to join the team. Alas, even living in a small dorm, I was one of only two people cut during the tryouts . . . and this was from a dorm team that hadn’t won a game in decades. What bad luck!
I was too slow to play wide receiver and much too small to play anywhere on defense. However, a few days later, injuries and guys quitting gave me a second chance. What good luck!
I eagerly got my pads and attended practices at the Stepan Fields. Somehow it was decided I would play defensive end and offensive tackle — the true, undersized Rudy of interhall sports. I made one tackle during practice, which consisted of me crouching still while our running back made head-to-head contact with me at full speed and we both hit the ground. I woozily got up, but this was before the days of understanding concussions and traumatic brain injuries. What bad luck!
I was honored (and applauded) to have gotten my bell rung. As we got blown out each week, I played diligently. On the offensive line, I held on every play, but fortunately, there weren’t enough referees to notice my penalties. What good luck!
As a defensive end, I made exactly one in-game tackle, just like Rudy. And I wound up getting X-rays and a splint for my wrist immediately post-tackle. What bad luck!
My interhall tackle football career stat line has a nice symmetry: 1 injury, 1 tackle. Good luck, bad luck, who can say? I think it’s for the best that there is no longer interhall tackle football at Notre Dame.
— Seán Williams ’04