Touchdown Jesus Redux

In spite of my bias, it's hard to argue against a more iconic setting for College GameDay than the University of Notre Dame. Pat McAfee and Co. set up shop on the library lawn, with Touchdown Jesus as their backdrop. And when Riley the Leprechaun and Michael Milano, a junior pre-med student at Notre Dame, kicked the football through the uprights (on the second attempt), all seemed right with the world. The Risen Lord was looking down, the crowd was sending volley cheers on high, and the thunder had clearly been shaken down.

Yet, as I watched the scene unfold, I found myself wishing Notre Dame would change something. In fact, I think it should. I believe it's time for the University to update Touchdown Jesus. Here's the story, and here is my reason why.

My freshman and junior year roommate at Notre Dame, Megan, was ahead of her time. A philosophy and theology major, Megan rarely let a lunch pass without a provocative question sparked by a course lecture or an article in The Observer. 

In honor of 50 years of undergraduate women, the Alumni Association unveiled new lyrics to the Victory March. As written on FightingIrish.com,

The original lyrics, written when all athletes at Notre Dame were male, refer to ‘sons,’ but in recognition of the fact that the ‘Victory March’ is now played for athletic teams composed of men and women, many modified the words accordingly. In 2022, after 114 years, the lyrics were modified. Previously, the lyrics said, “While her loyal sons are marching onward to victory.” Now, the lyrics say “While her loyal sons and daughters march on to victory.”

Megan had been singing this version on her own since our freshman year. Unprompted. 

The controversy over the Christopher Columbus murals in Notre Dame's Main Building began in October 1995. Students protested, calling the murals offensive and demanding their removal during an upcoming renovation. Megan believed the twelve paintings glorified colonization. The university covered them with tapestries in 2020. 

She also knew that the iconic mural on the Hesburgh Library wasn’t officially called Touchdown Jesus. It was The Word of Life, depicting the Risen Christ alongside apostles and Doctors of the Church. Megan pointed out who was missing: women.

Although such questions, observations, and insights aren't uncommon today, in Megan I found a new perspective. I want Megan to know how much I appreciate her discerning mind. And I want the world to know she was on to something. I believe it's time for Touchdown Jesus to change. Here's why. 

The idea for the Word of Life mural originated with Father Theodore Hesburgh, C.S.C., for whom the building on which it stands is named. Father Ted wanted to express how Catholic faith and the pursuit of knowledge complement one another, and he commissioned artist Millard Sheets to bring that vision to life. Sheets envisioned Christ as the great teacher, surrounded by the Apostles, various saints, and renowned scholars and thinkers throughout history.

The Word of Life mural celebrates the continuity of human wisdom, faith, scholarship, and the pursuit of truth across the centuries. Yet women, who contributed enormously to all four, are conspicuously absent. Megan was right.

I thought about this lacuna. Mary, the mother of Jesus and the greatest of all saints, has her own place atop the Dome. But what about the hundreds of women who have shaped the history of our Church? Women have long been theologians, scholars, and saints. I remember from Church history that Pope Paul VI declared two women—Sts. Teresa of Ávila and Catherine of Siena—Doctors of the Church in 1970. The Word of Life mural had been completed six years earlier, in 1964. Understandable, perhaps, given the timing. But today, there are two more women Doctors of the Church: Sts. Thérèse of Lisieux and Hildegard of Bingen. Cognitive dissonance was settling in. 

I wondered: Is it really such a stretch to include Mary Magdalene among the Apostles? Jesus called and chose the Twelve Apostles by name, but Mary Magdalene was the first to encounter the risen Christ at the empty tomb and announce the Resurrection. She is, after all, traditionally known as the Apostle to the Apostles. Her absence is a miss.

The covering of murals, the removal of statues, and the censorship of art have become the subject of intense debate in recent years—raising difficult questions about history, memory, and the role of public spaces in shaping how societies understand their past. Before one jumps to conclusions about what should be done, or not, I do think it's important to consider the time/era during which a piece was created, the artist's motive or purpose, the message they meant to send, and the impact it has had both in the past and present.

I've done that, and I've spoken with several people in leadership at the University about my feelings and my belief. Let me be very clear: I do not want the original artwork altered, taken down, amended, or changed. No. I would simply like figures of women—saints, scholars, and thinkers in Catholic thought—to be ADDED. I envision their likenesses designed and placed on the panels along the sides. You might be saying, "so you do want it to change." Okay, if that is how you see it. I think the integrity of the original piece can stand alone. I still think adding on is more than a plus.

Women are already absent from the altar. I would rather they not be left out of great Catholic art, too.

I asked my students what they thought of my proposal. A strong majority initially voted to keep the mural as it is. Their suggestion was to honor the women of the Church in a different place and commission a separate work of art.

But when I explained that the title "Doctor of the Church" means teacher, and that this mural adorns the front of the University Library, they hit pause. Isn't the purpose of a great Catholic university like Notre Dame to form men and women in Catholic thought, writing, teaching, and preaching? Should we not dream of a future Doctor of the Church who holds an ND degree?

The addition of women could serve as a wonderful lesson and witness to the contributions, examples, stories, and sacrifices of women of faith throughout the history of the Church. What better place than the University of Notre Dame? And what better time than Game Day?

Photo Credits
Doctors of the Church
Touchdown in Green
Word of Life Mural

7 for 7: Valkyries Win...and Take All!

Sports fans know that Game 7s are precious. Especially here in the Bay Area, where there have been just four winner-take-all contests involving our professional sports teams. The Golden State Warriors are still licking their wounds after surrendering a 3–0 series lead to the Cleveland Cavaliers, falling 93-89 in the deciding game in 2016! For many fans, it feels like yesterday! But not now, that belongs to the Golden State Valkyries. The Valks rallied from a 2–1 deficit to win the next two games before clinching the title over the Atlanta Dream, 68-63.

The V in Valkyries also stands for victory. To honor and celebrate the WNBA champions, this post offers seven talking points about the victors.

1. Thoughtful logo
I made a steadfast effort to talk about this team in Sports and Spirituality. Next to my agenda for each class period, I include an image that most often refers to an something in sports I'm excited about. Needless to say, this team got a fair bit of air time.

While most of the students knew a fair bit about the team, I thought a good starting point for the conversation was their logo. 

As written on the team's website:

The outer shape of the logo is a V, reinforcing the V in Valkyries, which symbolizes the unity of a group of Valkyries in flight, and standing for victory.

The Bay Bridge is depicted to reinforce the team’s presence across the Bay, but specifically the tie between the team’s homes in both Oakland, where the team’s practice facility and front office is located, and in San Francisco’s Chase Center, where the team will play all home games. The bridge tower doubles as a sword—a symbol of courage, power, and authority. Swords are weapons frequently depicted with Valkyries in mythology.

The bridge cables double as wings, a strong telegraphic symbol of Valkyries. The five triangles formed within the wings represent the five players facing each other on each side of the court.

The thirteen lines coming from the top of the sword represent the Valkyries becoming the 13th active team in the WNBA.

Valkyrie Violet symbolizes power, ambition, nobility, and women’s empowerment, much like purple has been used symbolically in modern history.

My students looked on in amazement and wonder that this amount of detail, symbolism and meaning could come together in a single design. No wonder a few of my friends who majored in psychology went into marketing and design! Furthermore, their example invited me to consider other logos and their import. Can you think of others?

2. Two Teams: One Family
The Warriors and Valkyries belong to the same family. I like to think of them as brothers and sisters—without the rivalry. I love seeing how many Dubs show up at Valkyries games and vice versa. I think this is good for the game and for us, the fans. One need not succeed at the expense of the other. There's room in the family for everyone. Here's more.

Both teams represent Golden State and share a common identity. For those not in the know, Valkyries are fearless, unwavering warrior women rooted in Norse mythology. Both teams also call Chase Center home, although the Valkyries have given their court-side fan experience its own identity: Ballhalla.

The connection is made possible by their common owner, Joe Lacob. You've seen him sitting courtside, front and center, for countless games. That's a lot of basketball! Under his leadership, the Warriors have captured four NBA championships, while the Valkyries have already added a WNBA title to the family trophy case.

I appreciated Lacob's remarks at the trophy ceremony. He began by praising the team:

“First of all, I just have to say we have an incredible team. You guys are incredible. What you did was unbelievable. Unbelievable determination.”

He then singled out three women:

“Natalie Nakase, Ohemaa Nyanin and Jess Smith. Those three women made this happen. They deserve all the credit in the world.”

And then he turned to the fans:

“Who needs to be thanked the most is all of you.”

A friend recently quipped, “I wish he would buy the Niners.” I couldn't help but wonder: Could another Bay Area championship be in the cards?

A friend recently quipped, "I wish he would buy the Niners." I couldn't help but wonder if we would have another W.

3. Violet
I want to thank the Valkyries for expanding the color palette among popular sportswear, jerseys, and more. Although I originally referred to this beautiful hue as lavender, I get it: there's a "v" in violet. Their signature violet color is consistent and on brand. Another V for victory.

4. The History of the League
The story surrounding this series is that we had the first Game 6 (and Game 7, for that matter) ever. What was too often left untold is the development and expansion of the league that made these contests possible! The quality of the competition has made them necessary.

The WNBA began in 1997 with eight teams. How many of the pioneer programs can you name? Only the top four teams qualified for the playoffs, and both rounds were decided by a single game. There were no best-of-three or best-of-five series.

That changed in 1998, the league's second season, when both the semifinals and Finals became best-of-three series. In 2005, the WNBA Finals expanded to best-of-five, although the semifinals remained best-of-three until 2016.

Then, in 2025, the Finals moved to a best-of-seven format. The Las Vegas Aces swept the Phoenix Mercury that year, so the series never reached a sixth game. It took until this season for fans to experience the full drama of the new format: the first Game 6 and the first Game 7 in WNBA Finals history.

5. Coolest Parade Ever
I almost lost my mind when I heard about the parade route for the Valkyries' victory parade on Wednesday, November 4, 2026.

In an interview with 95.7 The Game on Monday, November 2, San Francisco Mayor Daniel Lurie said:

“This team came to us, and said that they wanted to do something different with the parade, and we said, ‘Whatever you want. You've done things differently from the start.’”

He added, “It's going to be epic.”

And it was! In an effort to celebrate their identity as the Bay Area's team, the celebration began at their practice facility in Oakland. The team crossed the Bay by ferry, arriving at the Ferry Building in San Francisco. From there, players and staff boarded floats, greeting fans along the Embarcadero. The parade traveled south along the waterfront for more than a mile, passing the piers and an estimated 400,000 fans.

Indeed, it was a sea of violet. A diverse crowd—women and men, young and old. They weren't just showing up to celebrate a championship; they were showing up for a team that felt like theirs.

6. Talking Points

This might be the most important point in my 7 for 7. In fact, what I'm about to write probably deserves its own post.

I'm asked all the time about my thoughts on the WNBA. Quite often, I find myself questioning the spirit behind those questions. Are people genuinely searching for an answer? Do they want to know my opinion? Are they looking for me to confront a bias, offer a criticism, or weigh in on a larger cultural conversation?

In short, I see a tension in the way the WNBA is covered and discussed: the conversation about women's basketball can sometimes become bigger than the basketball itself. I think that's worth acknowledging.

1. The stories surrounding the WNBA are legitimate and often important. Issues of gender, race, equality, labor, identity, media representation, and social justice are part of the league's history and present reality. They deserve attention and thoughtful discussion.

2. At the same time, those stories can sometimes overshadow the actual sporting product. The quality of the basketball, the extraordinary athleticism, the coaching, the rivalries, the personalities, and the sheer entertainment value deserve sustained attention in their own right.

Men's sports, and the NBA in particular, face a similar challenge: conversations about issues surrounding the game can sometimes overshadow the game itself. But the imbalance is different. This is a challenge women's sports face more broadly, and it is particularly pronounced in a league that has become such a significant part of larger cultural conversations.

My point isn't that we should talk less about what the WNBA represents. It's that we should spend just as much time talking about what the WNBA actually does: play outstanding basketball.

The league doesn't need to be defended solely on the grounds of representation, equality, or social progress. It can—and should—be celebrated for the competition, the talent, the strategy, the drama, and the entertainment. Those things are not secondary to the WNBA's importance. They are central to it.

7. "We're Here"
Tiffany “Tip” Hayes was the last of the four Valkyries to take the microphone during the trophy ceremony. The crowd recognized the significance of the moment: at 37, after 14 seasons in the WNBA, Hayes had finally become a champion.

She seized the moment and delivered a message that was bigger than the championship itself:“This is just what happens when you invest in women's sports. Valkyries, we're here. We ain't going nowhere. Invest in women's sports, baby. Let's go!”

And she's right. The numbers are backing her up. As reported by Yahoo Sports, the Valkyries' title-clinching win over the Dream drew 3.3 million viewers on Halloween night, making it the most-watched WNBA playoff game ever and the fourth-most-watched game in league history.

Tip's message was both a celebration of how far the WNBA has come and a reminder of how much potential remains.

In Conclusion
It's very strange for me to think that a cigarette company popularized the phrase, “You've come a long way, baby!” And maybe it should be even more concerning that Virginia Slims sponsored women's tennis for so long. But, much like the Valkyries' V logo, the psychology behind the campaign was onto something.

Women's sports has come a long way. The sheer number of men, women and children wearing a woman's jersey, talking about the in-person experience at Ballhalla, and scheduling their Halloween around catching Game 7 is noteworthy. These are meaningful signs of how far the landscape has changed. And I think it's equally important to acknowledge that women's sports still have a long way to go.

The WNBA will be under new leadership next season. I hope the next commissioner will address the questions and concerns that both skeptics AND fans have. For example, exactly WHY does the league's policy allow players not to be on the court during the national anthem? The league has a long history of taking progressive positions on matters of social justice. That's fine. Stand for what you believe in. But speak up, explain your position, and share why you believe it. That kind of transparency won't put every talking point to rest, but it might help move the conversation forward....which is exactly what this team did in 2026.

Photo Credits
Tip
Violet
Purple Reign
Champs
Lacob
Logo
Parade Route

Far from Common — Thoughts from Dusty Baker

With the release of Crossroads: A Memoir of Baseball and Life, the Olympic Club hosted an evening with Dusty Baker on Friday, September 11, 2026. I wasn't about to miss the chance to meet, greet, listen to, and learn from the former San Francisco Giants manager. D-Bake isn't just one of the cooler cats around; he is beloved. He is anything but ordinary.

Why do I say that? He told me so.

I already knew a little about the Riverside native. He was just four years younger than Bobby Bonds an MLB great whose son Barry played Dusty. Reading about Barry in Love Me, Hate Me: Barry Bonds and the Making of an Antihero gave me a deeper appreciation for the extraordinary place where they both grew up. What is now known as the Inland Empire was a remarkably vibrant and diverse corner of Southern California, where racial diversity was part of the fabric of the community and young athletes—boys and girls alike—had opportunities to play, compete, and develop.

When Norton Air Force Base closed, the Baker family relocated to Sacramento, where Dusty's father, Johnnie Baker, found work at McClellan Air Force Base. Dusty and his brother enrolled at Del Campo High School in Carmichael. They were the only two Black students on campus—and quite possibly in Carmichael, too.

I know a little about Carmichael because it's home to Jesuit High School. As another school in Jesuits West, I've attended several programs on its campus, spoken with its coaches, and worked with its administrators. They take Ignatian spirituality seriously.

Although Dusty didn't attend Jesuit, the opening passage of his book makes me think he would have understood its approach to people:

I was raised to give everyone a chance. Or at least to try. My parents taught us to keep our eyes open and to trust our feelings about people. If you did that, you could trust that person enough to let them show you who they are. You might end up being disappointed, but more often than not, you would see the good in people. That core conviction has turned into a lifelong philosophy of mine.

That attitude isn't all that different from known a tool in a Jesuit toolbox. The Presupposition is a fancy term that essentially encourages us to assume another’s best intentions. Although Ignatius intended his guidance as a sort of grounding understanding between a retreatant and their guide, the Presupposition is excellent advice for, well, anybody who’s ever had to deal with the idiosyncrasies of another human being. 

I'd argue it's one reason Dusty has found such success in life, in the dugout, and on the diamond.

For over an hour, Dusty shared lessons he learned from Hank Aaron and Willie Mays. He told stories about hunting with Will Clark and working with strong personalities like Jeff Kent and Barry Bonds.

When I had the chance to ask a question, I asked about his experience taking over the Houston Astros in 2020.

You might recall that the Astros fired manager A.J. Hinch in January of that year after MLB suspended him for his role in the team's sign-stealing scandal. Dusty took over and managed the team from 2020 through 2023, winning the 2022 World Series.

As much as I hated the Astros, it was hard to cheer against Dusty. I know I'm not the only one who felt that way.

Dusty thanked me for the question. He explained that the first thing to understand was that he'd inherited a very good team. Too often, managers are brought in without a roster full of talent. The scandal was infuriating because the Astros had assembled a talented team and then undermined the legitimacy of their accomplishments by cheating. They didn't have to do that!

But Dusty also pointed out that the COVID-19 pandemic had an unexpected benefit: there were no fans in the stands, just cardboard cutouts. The team would have faced much more heat from the fans if the stadiums had been full.

After the talk and Q&A, I went over to have Dusty sign my book.

"You're the one who asked a good question," he said.

Note to self: Make your audience feel seen, heard, and special.

I also congratulated him on his induction into the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum's Hall of Game. I told him I'd visited the museum while in Kansas City.

"With all due respect to what they have there, I think it's totally underwhelming," I said. "Considering what those athletes accomplished, especially under those circumstances, I believe the Hall should make a statement. It's housed inside a modern, multipurpose building."

"I totally agree," he responded.

I explained that I loved the exhibits and learned a great deal, but that the physical space should reflect the extraordinary significance of the people and history it preserves. Across the way is a jazz museum. The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum deserves to stand alone, too."

I purchased a book while I was there, "Satchel Paige: Maybe I'll Pitch Forever."

He responded, "I played with Satchel."

I could hardly believe it! I said, "Well, I'm mentioning that because if you ever want to add a quote to the front of your book, he has a good one. It was also used in the first episode of Ted Lesso, Season 4, when Higgins visited the Negro Hall of Fame." I handed Dusty my iPhone so he could read it from the screen.

“Ain't no man can avoid being born average. But there ain't no man that got to be common.”—Satchel Paige.

I said, "That's you."

"I never thought I was common. Not me," he replied.

I loved the quiet confidence of that response. Dusty knows who he is, and he doesn't need to pretend otherwise. There's something compelling about that kind of self-assurance, especially when it comes with a willingness to build others up.

Throughout the evening, Dusty spoke candidly about race and acknowledged the challenges he'd faced. But what struck me most was that he didn't seem interested in letting those challenges define him—or allow them to keep him from seeing the good in others. His philosophy is rooted in giving people a chance, recognizing their gifts, and treating them as more than whatever assumptions others might make about them.

Perhaps that's part of what makes Dusty Baker so special. He knows he's not common, but he doesn't need to make anyone else feel small to prove it. He remembers the person who asked a good question. He credits the talent of the team he inherited. He carries the wisdom of the people who came before him. And he makes room for others to be seen, heard, and appreciated.

Satchel Paige was right: Nobody has to be common. But maybe the real measure of an extraordinary person isn't simply knowing that about yourself. It's helping other people believe it about themselves, too.

Photos
Memoir
WS Trophy

Standing Shoulder to Shoulder: Golf and Grace

Congratulations to the St. Ignatius varsity girls' golf team for beating WCAL rival Valley Christian for the first time in 14 years! With half the varsity squad made up of freshmen, the last time the Wildcats defeated the Warriors, most of these players were still in diapers. This talented, spirited, and spunky team has come a long way, baby! Cheers to the players and their dedicated, hardworking, and outstanding coaches.

Today, the team competed in its final league match against the Lancers of Saint Francis. The win secured a tie for first place in the WCAL. But this is just the first leg of the journey to see how far these Wildcats can go. The goal? Make it to the state championship—and go to Disneyland.

Still riding the wave of the previous day’s victory, the girls arrived with plenty of momentum. Before the match, head coach Dan Schwabe offered a reminder.

Mind you: Dan has the gift of gab. He’s never met a stranger and is seldom at a loss for words. And yet, amid all those words, his messages have a way of hitting home. As I listened to him that day, he offered an image that will stay with me—and, I suspect, with the team. He said...

Go out there and have fun today. Play well. Play smart. Remember, today you get to walk shoulder to shoulder with your teammates. (In the remaining tournaments, players will be grouped with golfers from other schools and leagues). 

When we walk shoulder to shoulder creates the trust and This allows us bond as teammates and reminds that you are NOT out there alone!

You are able to gain a sense of calm and confidence from knowing we are in this together!

We gain strength from our teammates and when it seems like your scores may NOT count, make sure to remain engaged in the competition to make sure your partner NEVER feels alone!

Why? Because Together We Rise

His words served as the ideal bridge to our prayer.

As we gathered for our pregame ritual, I realized that we were standing shoulder to shoulder. We formed a circle and began with our traditional antiphon: Let us remember... We are in the holy presence of God. We linked arms and bowed our heads.

I invited everyone to pray for the person beside them, touching their right shoulder. Then I asked them to pray for the person standing on their left, touching their left shoulder.

Over the course of this season, we have walked together many times. I invited the team to take a moment to pray for the teammates and coaches with whom they had walked, shoulder to shoulder.

We concluded with the Prayer of Generosity.

At the inaugural North American Sports and Arts Chaplaincy Conference, Father Nate Wills, C.S.C., chaplain to the Notre Dame football team, urged those serving in this role to do more than simply show up. "This is more than a ministry of presence. I believe a chaplain is there to listen, engage, stay courageous and give/bring hope."

I don't think we can underestimate the importance of showing up. In the busyness of life, too many people don't. But ministry asks more of us than simply being present. It asks us to pay attention, to listen, to engage, and to offer hope.

I found a message of hope in Coach Schwabe's words. Golf is an individual sport, but high school golf is also a communal experience. Players may compete one shot at a time, but they don't have to walk the course alone. They share the journey, encourage one another, and learn to carry the weight of a difficult round together. And eventually, they must step into tournaments where they will walk alongside unfamiliar competitors, carrying with them what they have learned from the community that shaped them.

I don't entirely understand how I came to this position as the team's chaplain. Perhaps it was a calling.  I sensed a need in the life of the school, and responded with a team I knew. This is my first year in the role, and I'm still discovering  what it means to serve these young women.

But perhaps understanding isn't a prerequisite for responding. Sometimes we recognize a need, feel an invitation, and take the next step. We show up. We listen. We engage. We hope.

In her book, "Traveling Mercies" one of my favorite spiritual authors, Anne Lamott writes, "I do not at all understand the mystery of grace—only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us."

Sometimes, grace meets us standing in a circle. Shoulder to shoulder.

Photo Credits

More than a Musing: Encountering Notre Dame

Back when I was a young adult (in the eyes of the Church), an outspoken member of our group asked me about this blog. “It’s just a bunch of your musings, right?”

Given the time, energy, and thought I had invested in Sports and Spirituality, I was surprised—and miffed—that this was her interpretation of my writing. I have always come to this space intending to do much more than share a story or market a musing. I pen a post because I have something to say: a lesson I’ve learned, a connection I want to make, or a hope I want to share.

I’ve been writing this blog for almost 17 years, and I haven’t let go of that intention or of that comment. I think I know why: I recently returned from a short but sweet trip to Notre Dame, and what I want to share are my musings. I guess she was right. And perhaps what you read here with resonate with you, too.

Pilgrimage Made Easy
Travel to Notre Dame has never been easy. Growing up in the Bay Area, I didn't have the luxury—let alone the option—of driving to campus. Getting there required planes, occasionally a train (the South Shore), and certainly automobiles. Given the weather conditions in and around South Bend and the stress of getting from point A to point B—or, in this case, point ND—the journey itself is an unknown venture. But, this weekend, United Airlines offered a great assist: a direct flight from SFO to SBN.

In fact, I'm still thinking about it. Effortless. Smooth. Not only was it Easy like Sunday Morning, it was easy on Sunday morning. We left at 11:00 a.m. and landed at 12:45 p.m. Pacific time.

A sight to see every other year. SFO-->SBN

This flight is offered every other year when Stanford plays at Notre Dame. I felt like I was on an airbus chartered by Irish fans. It is however, but a temporary luxury. 

One chapter of my book, Caminos on Campus, addresses the effort it takes to get to Notre Dame. To me, that speaks to the very notion of pilgrimage. The journey matters. The effort matters. Although this trip was much easier, the destination is my spiritual home. And I take heart in knowing that, even when the journey gets easier, pilgrimage remains.

Culture of Encounter
One of the joys of returning to Notre Dame, especially for a fall football game, is walking familiar paths. I love taking in the beauty of campus, noticing what has changed, and discovering what's new. I never have to worry about meeting my daily step count! But what keeps me coming back is not simply the beauty of this walkable space. It's the people I encounter along the way.

Some encounters are expected. I walked past Father Pete McCormick, C.S.C., whose joy is palpable. From across the Quad I could see the joy oozing out of him. Other encounters unfold over a weekend spent with some of my favorite people: a glass of wine with one of my closest friends on the patio of the Morris Inn, a reception at Mendoza College of Business with her daughter, and time sharing space with my dear friend Erin and her family. These are some of the reasons Notre Dame feels like home.

My talented classmate and friend, Garret Gray '96.

Then came game day.

After Pete's Pregame, where Notre Dame Athletic Director Pete Bevacqua interviewed Stanford's new AD, Jon Donahoe, I was leaving Jordan Hall of Science when I recognized an alum whose story I had recently read in the summer issue of Notre Dame Magazine.

I had to stop him. I was so moved by the profile piece: Send a Volley and I wanted him to know. I told Ron that he could have been interviewed by Pete, too. A former varsity tennis player who competed on Notre Dame's national championship team, he continues to play the sport he loves, now in a wheelchair.

Reading his story had inspired me. Meeting him gave me the opportunity to tell him so.

It was a brief encounter, just a few moments carved out of a busy football weekend. But it reminded me how much can happen when we pay attention to the people around us. I could have kept walking. I could have admired the campus, checked off the familiar landmarks, and moved on to the next event. Instead, I had the chance break open his story a little more and share that his life and example have made a difference to someone else.

That's what a culture of encounter makes possible. It asks us to look up and around, to recognize that the people sharing our paths are more than passing faces. Each carries a story worth hearing, and sometimes we get the privilege of telling someone that their story matters.

Less Music in this Musing
I am very happy to report that a change has been made! In what is more than a musing, one year ago I wrote "Stay Different Irish." In that post I opined

We're Not Different #3: Speaking of music...

My friend Bill and I caught the Player Walk, a game day tradition whereby coaches and players  process from the Basilica of the Sacred Heart to the Stadium. I love seeing  the team in dress ware—a uniform navy blazer and dress shirt. A few wore ties; all carry their own backpacks.

I realize they are moving from a place of introspection and prayer to a public space that is loud and demands a lot from them. I get that they want to be "in the zone," but I wish they would remove their head phones/ take out their ear buds. To me, silencing the cheers and potential jeers creates a barrier. For example, when I saw Cooper Flanagan, I yelled out "Go Spartans!" I wanted to make a connection to his high school alma mater, De La Salle high school. Those AirPods prevent any sort of communique.

These athletes are modeling what we see every week in the NFL and among their peer group. Am I asking too much in requesting that they be open and stay open to family, friends and fans who call their name and cheer for Old Notre Dame?!

I came to the Player Walk in fear of what I might see. Would they all be wearing over the ear, padded, noise canceling headwear? Turns out, many were BUT they were not covering their ears. All but two players had earbuds/AirPods/a headset out and away (or above their ears). I have to believe a coach said something to the team. Consequently, I felt they were more in the moment. And that singular small gesture allowed me to be, too.

With the People 
I had the privilege of joining a friend in a box seat to watch the game. The padded seats were on the press-box side, facing the opposing team. Our view was unobstructed, delicious food was included in the ticket price, and getting up and out of our seats was no bother. I'm grateful for any chance to see the Irish, especially when they get the W. But given the choice, I'd rather sit somewhere else.

This isn't a complaint. I'm grateful for the opportunity and for an amazing seat. It's just that I think a football game asks something of us. We sit on bleachers, often packed tightly together. We stand up and squeeze past one another to let people in and out. We're close enough to engage with the people around us. We high-five strangers, catch bits of their conversations, and, if you're lucky enough to sit  with my Uncle Jay, you get a referee's POV.

You leave the game feeling as though you played a part in it. When you sit in a climate-controlled box, the experience is different.

Let me be clear: for older fans, people with mobility challenges, or anyone facing extreme weather, box seats can be the way to go. In my mind, I'm still a bit of a young adult, and I think there's something to be said for sitting with and among the people. Part of the Culture of Encounter is showing up, sharing space, and being in the mix. For me, that means sitting in the stands.

In Conclusion
The last visit to Notre Dame was for my class reunion in June. At that time, my mom was still alive and I found solace in talking to my classmates who had already lost a parent. This time, I arrived carrying her memory and talking to others about her life and her death. She provided for a wonderful home where I grew up and returning to Notre Dame felt no different. It is a another home, overseen by a holy Mother where I too have grown up.

Perhaps that's part of what makes returning to Notre Dame so meaningful. We come for all sorts of reasons: the beauty, the traditions, the football, the friendships, the feeling of being home. But we also return as different people than we were the last time we walked these familiar paths. We bring our joys and our losses, our stories and our questions. And we discover that even in a place we know so well, there are still people to meet, stories to hear, and opportunities to encounter something—or someone—that changes the way we see the world.

Photo Credits