What a "Deep Cut" Reveals

As we waited for the next session of the retreat to begin, I glanced at a sophomore I didn’t know. He was wearing a "God, Country, Notre Dame" Under Armour t-shirt.

“It’s Henry, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Did your mom or dad go to Notre Dame?”

“No.”

“Oh, the reason I ask is because of the shirt you’re wearing. That one seems legit. Where did you get it?”

“I ordered it online from the bookstore,” he said.

“Huh. Well, it’s not unusual to see people wearing a Notre Dame sweatshirt or tee—look at Mark, for example. That shirt could’ve come from any store. But yours? To me, that’s sort of an insider’s pick.”

Another teacher nearby chimed in, “Ah yes, a deep cut.”

“Deep cut?” I asked.

He explained, “Deep cuts are usually early songs by an artist—tracks that might be less popular or well-known than others on the same album.”

“I love that,” I said. “Springsteen fans know a legion of deep cuts—the B-sides, the songs he let other artists record that became hits. His 1999–2000 reunion tour even centered around many of them, blending Tracks with the classics. And as Boss fans know, Tracks 2 is set to drop on June 27. Deep cut city!”

Whether it's a song, a reference to a book or movie or an article of clothing, deep cuts (which has its own entry in the Merriam-Webster dictionary) offer two insights into our humanity: authenticity and identity.

Identity
What someone believes, where they grew up, who they root for, and what they value—these all shape our sense of identity. We come to understand ourselves and others through these frameworks.

Phrases like “born and raised Catholic,” “Bills Mafia member,” “C & E Christian,” or “I bleed blue and gold” are common in both spiritual and sports communities. People aren’t shy about waving their flag, singing Hallelujah, or spending Sundays with their faith community or favorite franchise. Many of us want to be known by our tribes and traditions. It connects us. Sometimes it divides us. But it always reveals something fundamental.

Whether it’s a rare alumni sweatshirt or the belief that “lifelong Cubs fan” should be etched on a tombstone—identity matters.

Of course, our lens of identity can shift over time—as it should. Life isn’t static. A recent Notre Dame Magazine article titled "Out of Practice" Ken Woodward (a Notre Dame alum and former Newseek religion editor and Christian Smith—a sociologist on campus. 

KW: Readers like me, who came of age in the 1950s, will surely argue that there are other, stronger reasons for being religious. One would be group identity. “This is my crowd. These are my people.” Does traditional religion no longer provide group identity?

CS: For some people, it clearly does, but I think it’s more challenging now to get an identity from religion than it used to be. The boundaries are more porous. People are involved in many other communities. The internet has opened up people to the entire world. So, it’s still there, but it’s just less effective and clear.

KW: Would you say that other identities have superseded this? “I’m female.” “I’m LGBTQ.”

CS: Yes, exactly. The rise of identity politics. If you look at what people think matters for being a good American or for having a strong personal identity, very few younger generations are going to say, “I’m Catholic” or “I’m Jewish” or something like that. It’ll be much more around sex, gender, political affiliation. 

While not true for all Irish fans, wearing a Notre Dame deep cut often signals that “Catholic” is—or was—part of one’s identity. But it can also open the door to broader conversations: Midwest roots? Working class? First-gen college student? Irish or Polish heritage? Football fan?

For example, when I saw a student wearing a particular IRISH sweatshirt, I had to ask her about it. That sweatshirt (and its gray-with-navy-lettering sibling) was practically a uniform for my classmates and me in the ’90s. A deep cut like that brought back memories—shopping at the old Hammes Bookstore, bumping into dorm mates. Turns out, her dad was two years ahead of me. “He lived in Grace Hall,” she said. Another identity marker.

Authenticity
I haven’t studied identity politics or sociology in depth, but I do know this: once we begin to understand identity, we start asking questions about authenticity.

We want to know what’s real. We crave it. We want to be known—truly known—for our passions, our loyalties, our roots. Some people hold 30-year season tickets. Others reminisce about the old ballparks, long gone. We stake our pride on those loves. And we should.

That’s also why we’ve developed language for what isn’t authentic—terms like bandwagon fan or fair-weather follower. And this is where deep cuts come in.

Owning or recognizing a deep cut implies history, loyalty, and pride. It’s the T-shirt version of “I was here before it was cool.” It’s literal—people wear it on their sleeves. And it’s encoded. Not everyone gets it. That’s the point. I’m not usually a fan of the acronym IYKYK, but in this case? It fits.

For example, I once saw George Kittle and other 49ers wear a specific shirt in press conferences. I found it online and wore it to the gym. My friend Greg, a San Francisco native, saw it and said, “I love those. They used to be practice shirts. We had so many they became rags.” I told him those “rags” now sell for $199 to $299 on eBay.

For some, that’s a small price to pay to be seen as an authentic Niners fan. And given the team’s last-place finish in the NFC West this year (6–11), that shirt may speak louder now than it did after Super Bowl LVIII. IYKYK.

In conclusion, one of my favorite sweaters is a navy cardigan with the university logo on the patch. They gave them to us at graduation. I kept mine—and I wonder how many of my classmates did the same. When people compliment it, I get to tell the story.

Yes, Notre Dame is a big part of my identity. And no one who knows me questions whether I’m an authentic fan—of the Irish, the Giants, the Niners, the Warriors—or an authentic follower of my faith. These aren’t just labels. They’re deep cuts. All have been called in to question for both discussion and defense. Each one matters to me.

Photo Credits
Niners shirt
UVA Hat
ND Sweatshirt
Bills Mafia
Win Flag

Rory McIlroy: Who Do You Say That I Am? Part II

I have yet to hear of someone who thinks Rory McIlroy’s victory at the US Open was a bad thing for golf. Golf fans—old and new--recognize McIlroy’s landslide victory was impressive, his swing is a thing of beauty and his warm persona is a welcome one on the tour. I do not question how he did it but I do want to know how Northern Ireland has yielded two different champions, back to back.

Northern Ireland, one of the four countries of the United Kingdom, is a place that knows violence and bloodshed, as well as questions of allegiance and identity all too well. You will not find a tri-color Irish flag beside Rory McIlroy’s name; he is represented by a white flag with the red hand of Ulster at its center. And just last year, I read, “Northern Ireland's Graeme McDowell wins the 110th U.S. Open” on the front of every sports page. Northern Ireland is a country of only 1.7 million, which is 30% of the island’s total population. So what gives? What is the secret to their golfing success?

The May/June 2011 issue of “Ireland of the Welcomes” reveals that “Ireland has over 400 golf courses, including one-third of the world’s links courses, and the 150,000 visitors who played golf here last year contributed an estimated 110 million Euro (US $154 million) to our economy. “ I re-read that surprising information. The Emerald Isle, a nation the size of Indiana has one-third of the world’s links courses—that staggering statistic must have something to do with McDowell and McIlroys’ success. Or so I thought until someone asked me: Does that include Northern Ireland? Honestly, I don’t know.

Said publication was from the Consulate General of Ireland. I could make a guess about that answer, but that would be presumptuous.

Questions of politics and identity are never easy to answer. And today’s Gospel reading on the Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul is no different. Jesus asks his disciples "Who do you say that I am?" They are reluctant to answer; perhaps they are not sure. They said in reply, "John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others one of the prophets." But Jesus stays with the question. And he asked them, "But who do you say that I am?" He asks all of us this question.

And He should. My answer to his question reveals more than what I know about Jesus. It asks me what and who I believe he is. Faith is more than facts and information from our mind; faith asks us to speak from the heart.

When McDowell won the US Open at Pebble Beach in 2010 his words, from the heart revealed his allegiance and his identity. He thanked his friends and “so many Irish people in the crowd cheering me on. I don’t know what it is about the Irish, they seem to be everywhere.”

As yet Rory has remained quiet in terms of where his allegiance lies, whether he considers himself British or Irish, unionist or nationalist. The 2010 Sports Illustrated Masters Preview says "These are decisions he will have to think carefully about because like it or not, the Irish on both sides of the border are obsessed with the subject. His identity will doubtless be a talking point, perhaps not in America and perhaps not publicly either, but people from Northern Ireland, Britain and the Republic of Ireland are already talking about it and will speculate over it until his identity is revealed."

Are those 400 plus golf courses both Irish and Northern Irish? Is McIlroy’s US Open win a win for Ireland? These are questions, I invite you to think about and answer for yourself.

Photo Credits
Rory wins the US Open
Golf Course in Ireland
McDowell & McIlroy