Game Won't Be Forgotten Continued...
After that interception return the Irish answered again with a Quinn-to-Samardzija hook-up to once again get the game back to a reasonable (especially considering the two teams involved) deficit. At 24-14 the Irish had momentum again and needed to get some defensive stops. Yet again the Spartans separated themselves as they drove down the field with just over two minutes left in the half re-establishing their 17-point lead on another Stanton-to-Reed drive that covered 59 yards. Notre Dame got the ball back with a chance to cut it yet again but proceeded to go three-and-out.
The one interesting thing was Michigan State had a chance to call time out and get the ball back with about a minute left and put some more points on the board against a reeling and tired Irish defense before the half and chose not to. I thought when it happened it was a mistake on MSU’s part and in hindsight it is even more glaring. Even Bob Davie in his infantile analysis picked up on this and said that you can never have too big of a lead against a sleeping giant like the Notre Dame offense. Prophetic words.
As the third quarter began the weather kept getting increasingly worse as the conditions veered toward a torrential downpour. Early in the third Quinn found a wide-open John Carlson streaking down the middle of the field as he hit him for an unlikely 62-yard touchdown gallop. Yet again Notre Dame was within two scores with oodles of time remaining on the clock.
However the optimism was yet again short-lived as MSU behind big Jehuu Caulcrick doing his best Craig “Ironhead” Heyward impression, shredded the Irish defense almost single-handedly and took one into the endzone with about 5:50 left in the third quarter to give MSU another touchdown. However, MSU couldn’t convert the extra point and it became a sixteen point differential. This was significant for the simple fact that now it was technically a two-score game (with two TD’s and two two-point conversions) now instead of a three-score one. Still, with the wind whipping, the rain driving down and the hot-knife-through-butter way Caulcrick was running the ball, a comeback was truly remote.
Then it happened. In sequence of events that will go down in infamy in East Lansing, MI Notre Dame did the almost-impossible with a giant assist from it’s clownish coach and it’s Heisman-hyped quarterback (from my high school no less) Stanton. Luck is defined as opportunity meeting preparation. Well, that’s exactly what happened.
First, John L. Smith decided running two plays (please not sarcasm) the remainder of the game was going to get it done in a driving rainstorm. Next Brady Quinn found Jeff Samardzija for yet another score on fourth down to narrow the gap to ten early in the fourth. He ran right around an MSU defender and with some blocking help raced in to score. After an ill-concieved two-point conversion failed State got the ball back. After exchanging a few possessions, the Spartans had a chance to put the nail in the proverbial coffin when they marched down to the ND 30 yard line and had first-and-ten with the clock winding down. However, their starting center got hurt and next thing you know his replacement gets a holding penalty. A few holding penalties and a Derek Landri sack later, it was fourth-and-42 for MSU and ND still very much in the game. Although Notre Dame didn’t do anything on the ensuing possession, dread hung in the Spartan Stadium air like smog in the Los Angeles valley.
MSU was deep in its own territory when disaster struck and the collective fears of those in attendance started to be grimly realized. Drew Stanton had the ball rudely ripped from his wet, clutching hands by Chinedum Ndukwe who got the ball back for his scrappy team. A mere two plays later Quinn threw a perfect fade to Rhema McKnight in the left corner of the endzone to bring ND back within three. With just under five minutes left the world of the Spartans was crashing in on itself. On the faces of Notre Dame’s players you saw anticipation of something special in the air. On the other sideline you saw the flinty specter of another unnecessary and embarrassing defeat. Notre Dame converted the extra point to make it a three-point deficit with doubt quickly morphing into anger. Denial wouldn’t be far behind.
On the kickoff the Spartan return man Demond Williams shockingly took a knee on his own 15-yard line instead of trying to advance the ball. Perhaps it was to not chance a fumble in slick conditions, but to those watching and playing it looked more like a deer-in-the-headlights type of counter-measure that was sure to backfire. Which, naturally, it did.
Stanton quickly managed to go from hero-to-goat in a fashion that only a few can truly appreciate (Ben Johnson-style I call it). He drifted back on third-and-five and tried a screen pass that was snuffed out by the much-maligned Terrail Lambert who pushed and plodded his way through the scrum to give Notre Dame it’s first improbable lead of the night. At my home I let out a whoop that probably angered my neighbors at that late hour but encapsulated all my pent up angst and emotions I’d been feeling throughout the night. First the dejectedness I’d felt early when it looked like the Irish might lose by 50. That gave way to hopefulness that seemingly would get dashed at least a dozen times periodically throughout the night. Then throw in a dollop of disbelief as you could see the inevitableness of it all unfold as one team crumbled and another one stepped up proudly. My team. The Fighting Irish of Notre Dame dammit!
Still, my enthusiasm was tempered when Notre Dame missed the extra point to only have a three point lead instead of four, which was huge. Now visions of Brett Swenson danced in my head as he could conceivably tie the game and send it, yet again, to overtime fraught with more possibilities of failure and cruelty to my emotions. After last year’s near-comeback-from-the-dead, it all seemed like too much.
Little did I know that the damage had already been done to the fragile Michigan State psyche. Stanton hadn’t completed any of his five passes (unless you count the one to Lambert to give ND the lead) in the second half. MSU went into a shell and was playing not to lose (which almost always never works). For some reason they weren’t giving the ball to Caulcrick who had destroyed the Irish D for 111 yards on eight carries. And most of all Charlie Weis, for once, was railing into his defense to get the ball back and call this a night. For the first time I saw the big man get emotional. I’m not talking getting in a player’s ear and letting him know something he should’ve already known. I’m talking getting into them live as a unit. He was feeling the emotions of the college game and the palpable effect they can have on the field.
Stanton completed a few passes before he let sail one that would haunt him. The luck of the Irish shone brightly as the ball ricocheted off of three people and Terrail Lambert (again) picked the ball off the back of Kerry Reed for yet another turnover (however fluky), this one game-preserving. After a few moments of confusion (it initially looked like an incomplete pass), the ball was ruled a pick and the game was finally over.
The happy, soaked Irish went and sang their alma mater to their student section. Several unfortunate, dazed Spartans wandered over to their fifty yard line to “protect the S” as they assumed the Irish would be as classless as they were and try to plant a flag on their field. Notre Dame wasn’t concerned with such meaningless actions. They let the scoreboard tell the story. And this story will last in Irish legend for years to come.
After that interception return the Irish answered again with a Quinn-to-Samardzija hook-up to once again get the game back to a reasonable (especially considering the two teams involved) deficit. At 24-14 the Irish had momentum again and needed to get some defensive stops. Yet again the Spartans separated themselves as they drove down the field with just over two minutes left in the half re-establishing their 17-point lead on another Stanton-to-Reed drive that covered 59 yards. Notre Dame got the ball back with a chance to cut it yet again but proceeded to go three-and-out.
The one interesting thing was Michigan State had a chance to call time out and get the ball back with about a minute left and put some more points on the board against a reeling and tired Irish defense before the half and chose not to. I thought when it happened it was a mistake on MSU’s part and in hindsight it is even more glaring. Even Bob Davie in his infantile analysis picked up on this and said that you can never have too big of a lead against a sleeping giant like the Notre Dame offense. Prophetic words.
As the third quarter began the weather kept getting increasingly worse as the conditions veered toward a torrential downpour. Early in the third Quinn found a wide-open John Carlson streaking down the middle of the field as he hit him for an unlikely 62-yard touchdown gallop. Yet again Notre Dame was within two scores with oodles of time remaining on the clock.
However the optimism was yet again short-lived as MSU behind big Jehuu Caulcrick doing his best Craig “Ironhead” Heyward impression, shredded the Irish defense almost single-handedly and took one into the endzone with about 5:50 left in the third quarter to give MSU another touchdown. However, MSU couldn’t convert the extra point and it became a sixteen point differential. This was significant for the simple fact that now it was technically a two-score game (with two TD’s and two two-point conversions) now instead of a three-score one. Still, with the wind whipping, the rain driving down and the hot-knife-through-butter way Caulcrick was running the ball, a comeback was truly remote.
Then it happened. In sequence of events that will go down in infamy in East Lansing, MI Notre Dame did the almost-impossible with a giant assist from it’s clownish coach and it’s Heisman-hyped quarterback (from my high school no less) Stanton. Luck is defined as opportunity meeting preparation. Well, that’s exactly what happened.
First, John L. Smith decided running two plays (please not sarcasm) the remainder of the game was going to get it done in a driving rainstorm. Next Brady Quinn found Jeff Samardzija for yet another score on fourth down to narrow the gap to ten early in the fourth. He ran right around an MSU defender and with some blocking help raced in to score. After an ill-concieved two-point conversion failed State got the ball back. After exchanging a few possessions, the Spartans had a chance to put the nail in the proverbial coffin when they marched down to the ND 30 yard line and had first-and-ten with the clock winding down. However, their starting center got hurt and next thing you know his replacement gets a holding penalty. A few holding penalties and a Derek Landri sack later, it was fourth-and-42 for MSU and ND still very much in the game. Although Notre Dame didn’t do anything on the ensuing possession, dread hung in the Spartan Stadium air like smog in the Los Angeles valley.
MSU was deep in its own territory when disaster struck and the collective fears of those in attendance started to be grimly realized. Drew Stanton had the ball rudely ripped from his wet, clutching hands by Chinedum Ndukwe who got the ball back for his scrappy team. A mere two plays later Quinn threw a perfect fade to Rhema McKnight in the left corner of the endzone to bring ND back within three. With just under five minutes left the world of the Spartans was crashing in on itself. On the faces of Notre Dame’s players you saw anticipation of something special in the air. On the other sideline you saw the flinty specter of another unnecessary and embarrassing defeat. Notre Dame converted the extra point to make it a three-point deficit with doubt quickly morphing into anger. Denial wouldn’t be far behind.
On the kickoff the Spartan return man Demond Williams shockingly took a knee on his own 15-yard line instead of trying to advance the ball. Perhaps it was to not chance a fumble in slick conditions, but to those watching and playing it looked more like a deer-in-the-headlights type of counter-measure that was sure to backfire. Which, naturally, it did.
Stanton quickly managed to go from hero-to-goat in a fashion that only a few can truly appreciate (Ben Johnson-style I call it). He drifted back on third-and-five and tried a screen pass that was snuffed out by the much-maligned Terrail Lambert who pushed and plodded his way through the scrum to give Notre Dame it’s first improbable lead of the night. At my home I let out a whoop that probably angered my neighbors at that late hour but encapsulated all my pent up angst and emotions I’d been feeling throughout the night. First the dejectedness I’d felt early when it looked like the Irish might lose by 50. That gave way to hopefulness that seemingly would get dashed at least a dozen times periodically throughout the night. Then throw in a dollop of disbelief as you could see the inevitableness of it all unfold as one team crumbled and another one stepped up proudly. My team. The Fighting Irish of Notre Dame dammit!
Still, my enthusiasm was tempered when Notre Dame missed the extra point to only have a three point lead instead of four, which was huge. Now visions of Brett Swenson danced in my head as he could conceivably tie the game and send it, yet again, to overtime fraught with more possibilities of failure and cruelty to my emotions. After last year’s near-comeback-from-the-dead, it all seemed like too much.
Little did I know that the damage had already been done to the fragile Michigan State psyche. Stanton hadn’t completed any of his five passes (unless you count the one to Lambert to give ND the lead) in the second half. MSU went into a shell and was playing not to lose (which almost always never works). For some reason they weren’t giving the ball to Caulcrick who had destroyed the Irish D for 111 yards on eight carries. And most of all Charlie Weis, for once, was railing into his defense to get the ball back and call this a night. For the first time I saw the big man get emotional. I’m not talking getting in a player’s ear and letting him know something he should’ve already known. I’m talking getting into them live as a unit. He was feeling the emotions of the college game and the palpable effect they can have on the field.
Stanton completed a few passes before he let sail one that would haunt him. The luck of the Irish shone brightly as the ball ricocheted off of three people and Terrail Lambert (again) picked the ball off the back of Kerry Reed for yet another turnover (however fluky), this one game-preserving. After a few moments of confusion (it initially looked like an incomplete pass), the ball was ruled a pick and the game was finally over.
The happy, soaked Irish went and sang their alma mater to their student section. Several unfortunate, dazed Spartans wandered over to their fifty yard line to “protect the S” as they assumed the Irish would be as classless as they were and try to plant a flag on their field. Notre Dame wasn’t concerned with such meaningless actions. They let the scoreboard tell the story. And this story will last in Irish legend for years to come.
posted by Randy W. Hall at 1:43 PM
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