This past Friday evening, I attended the pep rally for the Stanford game at the Joyce Center with a Notre Dame classmate of mine. It was pitiful. Scripted and spiritless, the thing was painful to sit (and I do mean sit) through. It was light years from the raucous rallies of my undergraduate days. I left thoroughly disheartened, and doubt that I will ever attend one again.
Our experience started when our choice of seating was challenged by an usher. Apparently, we were in a section reserved for ND parents only if their students were with them. (Fortunately, one of my sons was with us.) After being thwarted by our legitimacy, the usher proceeded to eject two men and their young sons from the mostly empty section. A great ND moment for them, don't you think?
We were then "treated" to a program of pre-fab cheers, videos and introductions of our Olympic athletes. It seemed like 30 minutes before the actual football team made it's calm, gentlemanly appearance.
During the rest of the event, it was sometimes difficult to tell the team members from the old, tired alumni who were sitting on their hands behind them. That's how bored they looked and justifiably so.
The momentary exception was when Jimmy Clausen, Terrail Lambert, Pat Kuntz and Kyle McCarthy got up to talk. They were terrific, but could not rescue the event from the stranglehold of civility, or from their own head coach's passionless, stupefying remarks. Charlie sounded more like he was offering a statement to the media than attempting to inspire anyone.
In days of yore, when I was an undergraduate, rallies were held in the Stepan Center. There was no sitting down because there were no chairs! The rally began when the band, cheerleaders and team entered the building. Lots of jumping, screaming, fist pumping and cheering. Girls held up on guys' shoulders. The program was led by the leprechaun, and featured short, impassioned talks by two current players and two ND legends, either ex-players or other fiery notables like Digger Phelps. Sometimes Stepan Center was so packed, and the crowd so fired up, that condensation dripped from the ceiling! (Gross, I know, but gives you the true flavor of the event). It concluded with the fight song. The whole thing took 30 minutes.
Here's what it didn't include: reserved seating, ushers, players in suits, "host" dorms, videos, cheers led by the executive director of the Alumni Association, introduction of non-football folks, or the Alma Mater.
Listen, I think Chuck Lennon is one of the greatest Notre Dame men alive. Our Olympians are amazing and a true source of pride. I love the Alma Mater so much that I can't hear it without tears coming to my eyes. But these things have no place at a football pep rally!
The sole purpose of a football pep rally is to get the team and students fired up to go beat the crap out of Saturday's opponent. Period.
That's what they were all about when I attended Notre Dame, and I don't think that my classmates or I are any the worse for it. And, oh yeah, our teams played with passion on Saturday.
I concur entirely with Sorin College men Aidan McKiernan and Tristan Hunt who wrote in Friday's Letter to the Editor entitled Our Pep Rally Manifesto, "Pep rallies should involve only three groups - the students, the band and the team. Pep rallies should be of the students, by the students and for the students. This means parents, alumni and outside visitors aren't invited. If they want to come, they're more than welcome - but they'll be one of us, not a polite guest at our show." Amen, brothers! I am both ND alumnus and ND parent.
What I want to see when I come to a football pep rally is a team and student body ready to tear it up on Saturday. Nothing else. That's the way it used to be, and that's the way it should always be.
Return the pep rallies to the students!
Go Irish!
Mike Schafer
alum
Class of 1982
Oct. 6
