Moving through the San Diego airport, I did a double take. I hadn’t seen that image in years — an illustration of a Native American chief, a composite that included Blackfeet chief Two Guns White Calf on a burgundy and gold jacket. The Washington NFL team retired both the logo and the “Redskins” name in 2020, replacing them with new branding. Today, they’re known as the Washington Commanders, though many—including the President—wish they weren’t. The jacket I saw looked like a relic from the ’80s: synthetic fiber, faded colors, worn seams. Still, it sparked a question I’m still turning over in my mind: Should someone still wear this logo?
Notre Dame opened the season against the Miami Hurricanes, rekindling one of college football’s great rivalries of the late ’80s and ’90s. These matchups loom large in memory, forever tied to the moniker “Catholics vs. Convicts.” First printed on a shirt sold on the ND campus, the phrase became iconic—so much so that ESPN devoted a 30 for 30 documentary to it. The Irish won that legendary game 31–30 at home, a regular-season victory that propelled them to their most recent national championship. Before this season’s game, I saw a resurgence of the green “Catholics” vs. orange “Convicts” shirts all over social media—and even on a few friends and classmates. Once again, the question surfaced: Should someone still wear it?
I decided to ask other sports fans and friends what they thought. Their answers varied widely. Loyalty runs deep, and most people don’t like being told what to do. Several expressed frustration—and fatigue—with what they called “wokeness.” More than once, I heard comments like, “We’ve taken things way too far,” and, “Let’s not get caught up in matters like this.” Others offered more nuance: “If I grew up in Cleveland and the Indians were my team, I might have a different relationship with the Chief Wahoo logo. Sports evoke memories, and that’s what I knew, what I cheered for.” A few even wrestled openly with the dilemma: “Just because I can wear it, should I?” That’s the question I keep coming back to. Because we can—does that mean we should?
My own authentic Catholics vs. Convicts t-shirt once hung in the back corner of my classroom, handsomely framed and often sparking enthusiastic remarks from students. One day, after class, a student asked me about it. I told him the story of the rivalry, my connection to the students who sold the shirt on campus, and how, against the odds, the Irish prevailed that season. He told me he had seen the 30 for 30 documentary and felt there were clear racist undertones in the slogan—which, in hindsight, there were. “I wonder how Miami fans feel about that moniker,” he said. “I’m sure some embrace it, but overall the optic isn’t good.”
I was defensive at first, rushing to defend my team and the ethos of Notre Dame athletics in my own mind. I even questioned his motive for asking about it. But later, I let his words settle. Eventually, I took the shirt down. In someone’s den or basement, with proper historical context, it might still have a place. But in my classroom, it felt different. I’ve come to believe the slogan carries racial undertones—though I know others don’t see it that way. I could wear the shirt or hang it, but I have decided not to do either.
It’s worth noting that changing team names and logos isn’t a new or uniquely “woke” trend. Take Stanford, for example. I had always wondered how they ended up with “Cardinal”—just a color—as their name and a tree as their mascot. It turns out the student body pushed for change back in the 1970s, retiring the “Indians” name and imagery after Native American students spoke out about its harm. I find this to be a powerful testimony; history is a great teacher.
I'm going to let ChatGPT outline the movement (teachers, this is poignant example of when and how to allow students to use A.I.)
Early Mascot History: Stanford’s teams were originally known as the “Indians,” a nickname that dates back to around 1930. The name was meant to reference the school’s early use of Native American imagery, including a caricatured mascot and symbols.
Growing Awareness: By the late 1960s and early 1970s, the Civil Rights Movement and the growing voice of Native American students began to challenge stereotypical depictions and the use of Indigenous cultures as mascots.
Student Advocacy: In 1972, Stanford’s Native American students, supported by other student groups, formally petitioned the university to drop the “Indians” name and mascot. They argued that the imagery was offensive and perpetuated harmful stereotypes.
Decision to Change: In April 1972, Stanford President Richard Lyman announced that the university would retire the “Indians” name and associated imagery, citing the harm it caused to Native students and the broader Native community.
What Happened Next: After the change, Stanford’s teams were officially referred to simply as “Stanford” for several years. In 1981, they adopted the singular nickname “Cardinal” (referring to the color, not the bird). The Block “S” with a tree — a reference to El Palo Alto, the tree featured on Stanford’s seal — eventually became the primary logo.
So while Stanford’s athletic logo and mascot change happened in the 1970s (not the 1950s), it was one of the earlier examples of a major university dropping a Native American mascot out of respect for Indigenous people.
Sports team names, mascots, and logos are woven into our everyday lives; they’re deeply embedded in our culture. For many, they’re tied to identity and belonging. Raising questions about how we illustrate, name, and understand one another is not new.
These conversations often get pulled into politics, claimed by special interest groups, and can spark heated debate. Sometimes we get lost in the details—and sometimes that’s necessary. After all, how we relate to and treat each other can’t be separated from the names we use, the images we display, and the stories we tell.
The term "Redskin" is riddled with controversy. The studies around it conflicting reports and details. I appreciate what the ACLU has written. I think the Washington football team did the right thing. For those who think otherwise, let's continue the conversation.
Two minutes before the bell rang to conclude my Sports and Spirituality class, my student told me that Notre Dame changed their logo. I immediately thought "Oh wow. Did I miss the issue in question? I have read the history and origin of the Fighting Irish time and again. Is there a problem with the leprechaun?"
Turns out it's a marketing ploy. As written on the Notre Dame Athletics website, "the athletic department has released the Football Leprechaun mark that will be followed by more sport-specific marks representing each unique sport in which the Fighting Irish compete at the varsity level."
They added, "The Notre Dame Leprechaun is a secondary spirit mark of Notre Dame athletics. Its long-standing history represents the tenacious spirit of the Fighting Irish and their determination. The Leprechaun is recognized around the world today as the mascot of Notre Dame athletics dating back to its design in the early 1960s."
Though the change did not prompt an ethical questions, it certainly got people talking. To me, it makes no sense. We are the FIGHTING Irish and I love that our moniker prompts the question "What would you fight for?" Now, all I see is the rushing Irish (Is he a running back?!). I look forward to seeing the leprechaun rowing soon.
During the Miami game, every time I saw head coach Marcus Freeman, my eyes were drawn to that new logo. Emblazoned on his shirt, it was impossible to miss. That insight reinforced my belief: logos and names send messages—whether we intend them to or not. They can invite curiosity, spark questions, and open conversations. And maybe that’s the name of the game, set, match.
Photo Credits
Rushing Leprechaun
HCMF
Stanford Indian
Catholics vs. Convicts
