The Beauty of Sport is the Man who Runs the Stadium Seats when the Seats are Empty. Anyone can Run them when they are Full.
From the series: "STAND OUT IN THE CROWD"
by Frank Allocco, Sr.
Series Introduction
Some eye opening basketball statistics:
The beauty of sports is not in becoming a great player, it is the learning of valuable Life Skills that will serve players throughout their lives. If we look beyond the focus of winning and achieving success, the arena of competition is one of the finest classrooms a young player could ever have.
Some eye opening basketball statistics:
- 2.9% of high school players will play college basketball.
- Less than 1 in 75, or 1.3 percent of NCAA Seniors will be drafted by an NBA Team.
- About 3 in 10,000 players (0.03 percent) of high school seniors will eventually be drafted by an NBA team.
The beauty of sports is not in becoming a great player, it is the learning of valuable Life Skills that will serve players throughout their lives. If we look beyond the focus of winning and achieving success, the arena of competition is one of the finest classrooms a young player could ever have.
My passion and desire to play football at Notre Dame was ignited when I was ten years old. I fondly recall listening to the radio with my grandfather as the “Fighting Irish” competed each autumn Saturday. On Sundays, I would rush home excitedly from Mass at Our Lady of Peace Church and huddle up with my brothers as we listened to Lindsey Nelson retelling the story of the Saturday game on the 11:00 AM nationally televised highlights show. I went to sleep at night dreaming of becoming the next great quarterback for the Blue and Gold, determined to follow in the footsteps of Angelo Bertelli, Frank Tripucka, John Huarte, Terry Hanratty, and my New Jersey hero, Joe Theisman.
My commitment to the fulfillment of those dreams began with a simple declaration on the spacious parking lot playground at Our Lady of Peace School in New Providence. After completing a noon-time touch football game on the asphalt “field”, I ran over to Sister Loyola, the eighth grade girl’s teacher, and asked her if she followed Notre Dame Football. When she told me she did, I instructed her “to keep following Notre Dame as one day I would be their starting quarterback.”
My commitment to the fulfillment of those dreams began with a simple declaration on the spacious parking lot playground at Our Lady of Peace School in New Providence. After completing a noon-time touch football game on the asphalt “field”, I ran over to Sister Loyola, the eighth grade girl’s teacher, and asked her if she followed Notre Dame Football. When she told me she did, I instructed her “to keep following Notre Dame as one day I would be their starting quarterback.”
I ran over to Sister Loyola, the eighth grade girl’s teacher, and asked her if she followed Notre Dame Football. When she told me she did, I instructed her “to keep following Notre Dame as one day I would be their starting quarterback.”
After graduation from Our Lady of Peace, I confidently entered New Providence High School armed with a dream to star there and fulfill my goal of playing on national television for the “Fighting Irish.” New Providence had an amazing football history and I couldn’t wait to join the green and white. During the summer workouts prior to my freshman year, I approached Coach Carpenter, the legendary backfield coach of the Pioneers, and asked him to provide me with every drill he could to teach me the quarterback skills that I would need to earn a scholarship to Notre Dame. He looked me over and chuckled, saying, “Notre Dame? How are you going to play there when you are never going to play here?” His straightforward comments did not deter my ambition in the least as I was sure that his evaluation wasn’t meant to destroy my dream, they were simply a logical statement considering I was 5’10” and 135 pounds and had an All American quarterback playing ahead of me! I told him not to worry about any of that, just to work with me and help me develop my skills so I could fulfill my dream of playing quarterback at Notre Dame.
Coach Carpenter worked tirelessly with me in countless film sessions and individualized skill work each day after practice for the next four years. I performed well on the freshman team and began to blossom on the JV team during my sophomore year, while Bob Woodruff (who would go on to play at Syracuse University) established most of NPHS’ passing records. After two years of waiting, I finally got my chance and started for the perennially powerful Pioneers in my junior campaign. In a breakout season, I threw for over 2100 yards with 17 touchdown passes and broke many school records. At the conclusion of the season, I was named to the All-State team and gained even greater notoriety prior to my senior year when I was named to the Kickoff Magazine preseason All American team. I began to attract the interest of every major football program on the East Coast and Midwest, including Notre Dame, my dream school.
Excited by the opportunity and motivated to improve, Coach Carpenter and I took our workouts to a whole new level. Under his tutelage and watchful eye, I developed significantly and my dream seemed within reach! With most of our starters returning on a team that won five of our last six games in my junior season, optimism was sky high in our little town. We defeated Union and Butler, two perennial state powerhouses, in our pregame scrimmages and eagerly awaited our season opener against Dayton High School from Springfield, New Jersey. Before a packed stadium, I led our team onto the field wearing our home Green Bay Packer uniforms.
We received the opening kickoff and with our first long yardage situation upon us the thousands of fans and our worthy opponent anticipated my first passing attempt of the season. We surprised them all by calling a draw play! Our new sophomore running back, my younger brother Richard, made an unbelievable 50 yard run and gave us great field position. We continued our march down the field and scored our first points of the season in just two minutes. Leading the Bulldogs 7-0, I ran off the field having completed both of my passes with my second connection resulting in a touchdown to our talented wide receiver Chris Berg.
Our sideline was filled with joy and anticipation for another offensive series in what would surely be an unbelievable season. After our outstanding defense forced a punt, I led our team onto the field ready to unveil our new Notre Dame option play. I took the snap, reverse pivoted and hugged the line toward the right sideline. I faked a pitch to my best friend Alan Lesnewich and made a nifty move to elude the defensive end. I cut up the field with just one defender in front of me. I lowered my shoulder before crashing into Carmen Bove, their defensive back. Our collision sent us both flying and as I hit the ground I knew something was wrong with my left shoulder. I panicked as I attempted to push the injured bone back in place and then begrudgingly jogged off the field. The trainer directed me to the green wooden sideline bench where I was examined by Dr. D’Ambrosio, our team doctor. The dejected look on his face said it all as he sadly informed me that I had broken my left clavicle. My season was over.
Coach Carpenter worked tirelessly with me in countless film sessions and individualized skill work each day after practice for the next four years. I performed well on the freshman team and began to blossom on the JV team during my sophomore year, while Bob Woodruff (who would go on to play at Syracuse University) established most of NPHS’ passing records. After two years of waiting, I finally got my chance and started for the perennially powerful Pioneers in my junior campaign. In a breakout season, I threw for over 2100 yards with 17 touchdown passes and broke many school records. At the conclusion of the season, I was named to the All-State team and gained even greater notoriety prior to my senior year when I was named to the Kickoff Magazine preseason All American team. I began to attract the interest of every major football program on the East Coast and Midwest, including Notre Dame, my dream school.
Excited by the opportunity and motivated to improve, Coach Carpenter and I took our workouts to a whole new level. Under his tutelage and watchful eye, I developed significantly and my dream seemed within reach! With most of our starters returning on a team that won five of our last six games in my junior season, optimism was sky high in our little town. We defeated Union and Butler, two perennial state powerhouses, in our pregame scrimmages and eagerly awaited our season opener against Dayton High School from Springfield, New Jersey. Before a packed stadium, I led our team onto the field wearing our home Green Bay Packer uniforms.
We received the opening kickoff and with our first long yardage situation upon us the thousands of fans and our worthy opponent anticipated my first passing attempt of the season. We surprised them all by calling a draw play! Our new sophomore running back, my younger brother Richard, made an unbelievable 50 yard run and gave us great field position. We continued our march down the field and scored our first points of the season in just two minutes. Leading the Bulldogs 7-0, I ran off the field having completed both of my passes with my second connection resulting in a touchdown to our talented wide receiver Chris Berg.
Our sideline was filled with joy and anticipation for another offensive series in what would surely be an unbelievable season. After our outstanding defense forced a punt, I led our team onto the field ready to unveil our new Notre Dame option play. I took the snap, reverse pivoted and hugged the line toward the right sideline. I faked a pitch to my best friend Alan Lesnewich and made a nifty move to elude the defensive end. I cut up the field with just one defender in front of me. I lowered my shoulder before crashing into Carmen Bove, their defensive back. Our collision sent us both flying and as I hit the ground I knew something was wrong with my left shoulder. I panicked as I attempted to push the injured bone back in place and then begrudgingly jogged off the field. The trainer directed me to the green wooden sideline bench where I was examined by Dr. D’Ambrosio, our team doctor. The dejected look on his face said it all as he sadly informed me that I had broken my left clavicle. My season was over.
The dejected look on his face said it all as he sadly informed me that I had broken my left clavicle. My season was over.
I was devastated as my father and I walked off the field and entered the ambulance for the ride to Overlook Hospital. I knew my dreams, along with my collarbone, had been shattered. I remember my father and brother Jerry’s kindness as they comforted me in the emergency room and helped me to put this season ending injury in perspective. They were as upset as I was, but bravely held it together as they convinced me that this was all God’s plan and His way of directing me toward a different future. I was also being recruited by college basketball programs throughout the east coast and my father and brother presented the reality that this early injury would give me plenty of time to heal and be ready for a great campaign on the Pioneer hardwood. Their encouragement soothed my emotions until we began the drive home and I turned on the radio only to hear the Notre Dame fight song as the Irish were completing a 35-14 win over Northwestern.
In the days and weeks ahead, I received many letters from college football coaches expressing their disappointment in my injury and presenting the cold facts that that they did not recruit players who did not play their senior year. At this point, I was fine with this turn of events as I had decided to follow my family’s advice and concentrate on basketball and put my football aspirations behind me.
In the midst of our basketball season, I received a call from Coach Joe Yonto, ND’s outstanding defensive line coach, who recruited the state of New Jersey. Coach said he would be in town and would attend my basketball game the following night. I had an outstanding game and on the following day received another call from Coach, where he extended an invitation for me to make an official visit to Notre Dame. Although I was not seriously considering playing football in college (my firm intention was to play basketball in college), my love for Notre Dame enticed me to accept his offer of a visit early that spring.
After a treacherous ride in some unfriendly skies, I landed in South Bend on a wet April day. I was greeted at the airport by an assistant coach, who promptly drove us directly to spring practice. When I walked out onto the muddy Cartier Practice Field, I was instantly mesmerized and drawn to my hero, Coach Ara Parseghian. The fiery mentor shook my hand and then invited me to kneel in the huddle to imagine myself as the Notre Dame quarterback. I was a bit reluctant as I was wearing a brown polyester leisure suit with a colorful silk shirt with wide lapels, the outfit completed by my brand new tan boots. Despite my sartorial splendor, I did kneel in the mud as I was told and remained there as the quarterback called the play and the team fervently broke the huddle. Coach then told me to stand next to him and imagine that I was standing in the pocket in Notre Dame Stadium. As the ball was snapped the enormous defensive line of the Irish attacked the quarterback (and me) and I almost passed out. A bit shaken by the size, strength, and intensity of their front four, I asked to leave practice shortly afterwards. I was driven in a golf cart to the Morris Inn, the on campus hotel, where I checked in and took the elevator to the modestly decorated room. After entering the room, I collapsed on the bed and cried, knowing that I didn’t want to play football anymore. My frustration mounted as I wondered how I was going to get out of this and save face with my family, friends, coaches, and teammates.
Two hours later, Mark Brenneman, one of the Notre Dame centers, arrived and we went down to the hotel restaurant where we met the coaches for an outstanding steak dinner. After our meal, Mark took me to an on campus party that did nothing to soothe my unhappiness. I left early, wanting to spend some reflective time alone as I pondered my dilemma. I departed the dorm and wandered aimlessly around the campus searching for some answers.
The beautiful campus was truly majestic as the late afternoon rain had turned to heavy snowfall and covered the grounds with a beautiful white blanket. My solitary journey led me by the twin lakes, where through the falling snowflakes I saw the beautiful grotto at the end of a long stone pathway. I weaved up the inviting lane, slowly approached the grotto, and reverently knelt in prayer. I pleaded for help, guidance, and the courage to tell the coaches that I didn’t want to play football anymore. Lost in prayer and doubt, the time flew by swiftly and I eventually made my way through the freshly fallen snow back to the Morris Inn.
In the days and weeks ahead, I received many letters from college football coaches expressing their disappointment in my injury and presenting the cold facts that that they did not recruit players who did not play their senior year. At this point, I was fine with this turn of events as I had decided to follow my family’s advice and concentrate on basketball and put my football aspirations behind me.
In the midst of our basketball season, I received a call from Coach Joe Yonto, ND’s outstanding defensive line coach, who recruited the state of New Jersey. Coach said he would be in town and would attend my basketball game the following night. I had an outstanding game and on the following day received another call from Coach, where he extended an invitation for me to make an official visit to Notre Dame. Although I was not seriously considering playing football in college (my firm intention was to play basketball in college), my love for Notre Dame enticed me to accept his offer of a visit early that spring.
After a treacherous ride in some unfriendly skies, I landed in South Bend on a wet April day. I was greeted at the airport by an assistant coach, who promptly drove us directly to spring practice. When I walked out onto the muddy Cartier Practice Field, I was instantly mesmerized and drawn to my hero, Coach Ara Parseghian. The fiery mentor shook my hand and then invited me to kneel in the huddle to imagine myself as the Notre Dame quarterback. I was a bit reluctant as I was wearing a brown polyester leisure suit with a colorful silk shirt with wide lapels, the outfit completed by my brand new tan boots. Despite my sartorial splendor, I did kneel in the mud as I was told and remained there as the quarterback called the play and the team fervently broke the huddle. Coach then told me to stand next to him and imagine that I was standing in the pocket in Notre Dame Stadium. As the ball was snapped the enormous defensive line of the Irish attacked the quarterback (and me) and I almost passed out. A bit shaken by the size, strength, and intensity of their front four, I asked to leave practice shortly afterwards. I was driven in a golf cart to the Morris Inn, the on campus hotel, where I checked in and took the elevator to the modestly decorated room. After entering the room, I collapsed on the bed and cried, knowing that I didn’t want to play football anymore. My frustration mounted as I wondered how I was going to get out of this and save face with my family, friends, coaches, and teammates.
Two hours later, Mark Brenneman, one of the Notre Dame centers, arrived and we went down to the hotel restaurant where we met the coaches for an outstanding steak dinner. After our meal, Mark took me to an on campus party that did nothing to soothe my unhappiness. I left early, wanting to spend some reflective time alone as I pondered my dilemma. I departed the dorm and wandered aimlessly around the campus searching for some answers.
The beautiful campus was truly majestic as the late afternoon rain had turned to heavy snowfall and covered the grounds with a beautiful white blanket. My solitary journey led me by the twin lakes, where through the falling snowflakes I saw the beautiful grotto at the end of a long stone pathway. I weaved up the inviting lane, slowly approached the grotto, and reverently knelt in prayer. I pleaded for help, guidance, and the courage to tell the coaches that I didn’t want to play football anymore. Lost in prayer and doubt, the time flew by swiftly and I eventually made my way through the freshly fallen snow back to the Morris Inn.
My smile could not contain my pride as I realized that my dream had been achieved!
After a restless night of tossing and turning, I walked across campus to the football offices at the Athletic and Convocation Center. I entered Coach Parseghian’s office where he greeted me and compared me to another New Jersey native, the talented Joe Theismann. He then extended his hand and offered me a full scholarship to play football at the University of Notre Dame. My smile could not contain my pride as I realized that my dream had been achieved! Despite my initial apprehension and confusion, the lure of Notre Dame and the magnetism of Coach Parseghian won me over and I firmly committed to Notre Dame.
After a summer of preparation, I entered the University of Notre Dame filled with ambition and determined to live up to Coach’s challenge and be the next Joe Theismann! My enthusiasm was derailed early as the depth chart was released and I was the low man on the list at the quarterback position. Although the coaches had faith in me despite my injury, my setback did have its effect as evidenced by my lowly standing in the quarterbacking hierarchy.
I gradually worked my way up the ladder and ended up being the backup quarterback to Tom Clements, an amazing quarterback, who would lead us to the 1973 National Championship! After four years of serving as a backup, my fate changed as I was approached during my senior year by Coach Parseghian and presented with the chance to stay a fifth year at Notre Dame, where I would have the opportunity to be his starting quarterback.
I instantly jumped at this incredible offer and accepted the second chance to fulfill my dream and compete with my beloved mentor. After the unbelievable journey of an undefeated season my junior year, our senior year was a turbulent ride as we were upset by Purdue, but bounced back magnificently to win eight straight games before a devastating second half meltdown vs. USC at the Los Angeles Coliseum. Despite the untimely loss, we received an Orange Bowl bid and a rematch vs. No. 1 ranked Alabama. All was well in my world as we had a final chance at redemption and began preparations to defeat the Crimson Tide.
Shortly after the USC game, my brother Michael called reluctantly to inform me that had heard on the radio that Coach Parseghian was going to resign. I assured him that this was probably just a rumor but as I hung up the phone I felt uncertainty and trepidation. I began making calls to investigate his claim. Hours later, our team received the official news that Coach was indeed retiring after his final game in the Orange Bowl. I was devastated by this news as he was my mentor and model and my dream was to partner with him and win another championship together.
As we began our preparation for the bowl game, Coach Dan Devine, the coach of the Green Bay Packers was hired to replace Coach Parseghian. Throughout this turbulent time, our team maturely put the distractions aside and honored The Era of Ara by bouncing back to defeat the legendary Bear Bryant and the Crimson Tide 13-11, derailing their national championship aspirations once again. It was truly a bittersweet time as we were thrilled in our accomplishment, but saddened that this was our last time being coached by a truly remarkable man. I took some solace, proud that I was able to contribute as the last quarterback to be on the field with Coach, as an injury to Tommy Clements had forced me into action to seal our upset win.
A week later, after meeting with Coach Devine, I decided to stay for the fifth year and began working out in earnest in our winter workouts. With spring practice approaching, I was the designated starting quarterback. After several scrimmages, I was performing well throwing accurately to Ken MacAfee, our outstanding tight end and my favorite target. As the spring progressed, my experience as a fifth year player was clearly paying off as I distanced myself from the competition.
On one of the final Saturday afternoon spring scrimmages, I faked an off tackle handoff to our fullback and began rolling out to my left on a pass play. I began to turn the corner, but was tripped by the grasp of an inside linebacker. As I began to fall, I put my right hand down to the ground to gather my balance just as a defensive end dove onto my right shoulder. The impact of his tackle forced me to violently to the turf where my shoulder was separated upon meeting the hard ground. I was instantly taken to the hospital and swiftly informed that I needed surgery to repair my right shoulder. I was devastated upon another derailment of my dream, but felt better when Coach Devine came to visit me. When I asked if I should graduate and leave my football career behind, he assured me that I should stay at Notre Dame for the fifth year as I was the only experienced quarterback. Armed with his confidence and assurances, I turned my attention to healing and was anxious to begin my workouts to return to the gridiron.
Our Medical Staff and Trainers did an outstanding job of escalating my workouts and getting me ready to compete. As part of my rigorous rehabilitation routine, I ran the Notre Dame stadium steps each day throughout the typical hot and humid Midwest summer. My enthusiasm was at an all time high as I sprinted up the 60 rows to the top of the stadium before jogging to the next gate and down the 60 steps. I did this 38 times, once at each gate of the stadium.
One afternoon toward the end of the summer, I was running up the 35th gate as fatigue began to win its battle with the heat and humidity taking its toll as my legs grew heavier and heavier. Hypnotized by the heat, I decided I would break my tradition and bypass the last three gates and depart to the air conditioned weight room. As I slowly began to reduce my pace, I glanced at the tunnel entrance to the stadium and saw a middle-aged couple standing with their young son, enjoying the beauty of the legendary field. They were obviously dropping him off for his first year at the university. I had my blue number 12 jersey on with my name on the back and I motivated myself by saying, “they know I am the starting quarterback of the Fighting Irish.” With that in mind, I sprinted the last three gates and then jogged over to them, introduced myself and welcomed them to Notre Dame.
After a summer of preparation, I entered the University of Notre Dame filled with ambition and determined to live up to Coach’s challenge and be the next Joe Theismann! My enthusiasm was derailed early as the depth chart was released and I was the low man on the list at the quarterback position. Although the coaches had faith in me despite my injury, my setback did have its effect as evidenced by my lowly standing in the quarterbacking hierarchy.
I gradually worked my way up the ladder and ended up being the backup quarterback to Tom Clements, an amazing quarterback, who would lead us to the 1973 National Championship! After four years of serving as a backup, my fate changed as I was approached during my senior year by Coach Parseghian and presented with the chance to stay a fifth year at Notre Dame, where I would have the opportunity to be his starting quarterback.
I instantly jumped at this incredible offer and accepted the second chance to fulfill my dream and compete with my beloved mentor. After the unbelievable journey of an undefeated season my junior year, our senior year was a turbulent ride as we were upset by Purdue, but bounced back magnificently to win eight straight games before a devastating second half meltdown vs. USC at the Los Angeles Coliseum. Despite the untimely loss, we received an Orange Bowl bid and a rematch vs. No. 1 ranked Alabama. All was well in my world as we had a final chance at redemption and began preparations to defeat the Crimson Tide.
Shortly after the USC game, my brother Michael called reluctantly to inform me that had heard on the radio that Coach Parseghian was going to resign. I assured him that this was probably just a rumor but as I hung up the phone I felt uncertainty and trepidation. I began making calls to investigate his claim. Hours later, our team received the official news that Coach was indeed retiring after his final game in the Orange Bowl. I was devastated by this news as he was my mentor and model and my dream was to partner with him and win another championship together.
As we began our preparation for the bowl game, Coach Dan Devine, the coach of the Green Bay Packers was hired to replace Coach Parseghian. Throughout this turbulent time, our team maturely put the distractions aside and honored The Era of Ara by bouncing back to defeat the legendary Bear Bryant and the Crimson Tide 13-11, derailing their national championship aspirations once again. It was truly a bittersweet time as we were thrilled in our accomplishment, but saddened that this was our last time being coached by a truly remarkable man. I took some solace, proud that I was able to contribute as the last quarterback to be on the field with Coach, as an injury to Tommy Clements had forced me into action to seal our upset win.
A week later, after meeting with Coach Devine, I decided to stay for the fifth year and began working out in earnest in our winter workouts. With spring practice approaching, I was the designated starting quarterback. After several scrimmages, I was performing well throwing accurately to Ken MacAfee, our outstanding tight end and my favorite target. As the spring progressed, my experience as a fifth year player was clearly paying off as I distanced myself from the competition.
On one of the final Saturday afternoon spring scrimmages, I faked an off tackle handoff to our fullback and began rolling out to my left on a pass play. I began to turn the corner, but was tripped by the grasp of an inside linebacker. As I began to fall, I put my right hand down to the ground to gather my balance just as a defensive end dove onto my right shoulder. The impact of his tackle forced me to violently to the turf where my shoulder was separated upon meeting the hard ground. I was instantly taken to the hospital and swiftly informed that I needed surgery to repair my right shoulder. I was devastated upon another derailment of my dream, but felt better when Coach Devine came to visit me. When I asked if I should graduate and leave my football career behind, he assured me that I should stay at Notre Dame for the fifth year as I was the only experienced quarterback. Armed with his confidence and assurances, I turned my attention to healing and was anxious to begin my workouts to return to the gridiron.
Our Medical Staff and Trainers did an outstanding job of escalating my workouts and getting me ready to compete. As part of my rigorous rehabilitation routine, I ran the Notre Dame stadium steps each day throughout the typical hot and humid Midwest summer. My enthusiasm was at an all time high as I sprinted up the 60 rows to the top of the stadium before jogging to the next gate and down the 60 steps. I did this 38 times, once at each gate of the stadium.
One afternoon toward the end of the summer, I was running up the 35th gate as fatigue began to win its battle with the heat and humidity taking its toll as my legs grew heavier and heavier. Hypnotized by the heat, I decided I would break my tradition and bypass the last three gates and depart to the air conditioned weight room. As I slowly began to reduce my pace, I glanced at the tunnel entrance to the stadium and saw a middle-aged couple standing with their young son, enjoying the beauty of the legendary field. They were obviously dropping him off for his first year at the university. I had my blue number 12 jersey on with my name on the back and I motivated myself by saying, “they know I am the starting quarterback of the Fighting Irish.” With that in mind, I sprinted the last three gates and then jogged over to them, introduced myself and welcomed them to Notre Dame.
I had my blue number 12 jersey on with my name on the back and I motivated myself by saying, “they know I am the starting quarterback of the Fighting Irish.”
The rest of that summer saw everything going according to plan until my final doctor’s appointment, where I was informed that I needed a second minor surgery to remove the mersilene tape that had secured my clavicle and kept my shoulder intact. This “minor” procedure set me back a few weeks and effectively eliminated my chance to be the starting quarterback at Notre Dame. My disappointment knew no boundaries as the once joyful prospect of an amazing fifth year became a most disappointing and challenging season.
When the 1975 football season finally ended I finished my final semester and then began packing to return to New Jersey. On my final day at Notre Dame, I received a letter from my best friend’s mother. In her beautifully written missive, she expressed her sorrow that I had never gotten the break to propel me to greatness. She mentioned my senior year in high school and the fact that I was a preseason All-American on a great high school team that totally destroyed two teams in our preseason scrimmages, teams that would go on to win State Titles. She addressed my years at Notre Dame as a backup quarterback who patiently waited for an opportunity. She recalled the excitement of my fifth year with everyone relieved that all of my hard work, patience, and perseverance had finally paid off, that I would finally get the chance to show my skills on the biggest stage! She concluded her letter by saying my injuries were unfair, that fate had dealt me a cruel blow as I had never gotten the opportunity to have that special season that I had worked so hard to achieve.
After a week of reflection, I wrote back to Mrs. Lesnewich and told her that I truly appreciated her letter of support. I agreed with her assessment of my roller coaster career, one filled with countless highs and lows. I explained how the intense summer prior to my final year saw me give every ounce of my energy each day as I tirelessly worked to return from a devastating injury. I had lifted weights, did hours of daily rehabilitation exercises, and ran the stadium steps in an effort to rebuild my shoulder and attain top physical condition. I also expressed my firm belief that I had gotten every break and was blessed to learn so many valuable lessons throughout the many challenges and disappointments of my high school and collegiate football careers.
I retold the story of the final days of August, when I hit that 35th gate and decided to quit for the first time. I shared my fatigue and how it dissipated when I saw that older couple and their son. I recalled my rejuvenation and how I sprinted those final three gates with a burst of adrenaline gained from the thought of someone watching me.
When the 1975 football season finally ended I finished my final semester and then began packing to return to New Jersey. On my final day at Notre Dame, I received a letter from my best friend’s mother. In her beautifully written missive, she expressed her sorrow that I had never gotten the break to propel me to greatness. She mentioned my senior year in high school and the fact that I was a preseason All-American on a great high school team that totally destroyed two teams in our preseason scrimmages, teams that would go on to win State Titles. She addressed my years at Notre Dame as a backup quarterback who patiently waited for an opportunity. She recalled the excitement of my fifth year with everyone relieved that all of my hard work, patience, and perseverance had finally paid off, that I would finally get the chance to show my skills on the biggest stage! She concluded her letter by saying my injuries were unfair, that fate had dealt me a cruel blow as I had never gotten the opportunity to have that special season that I had worked so hard to achieve.
After a week of reflection, I wrote back to Mrs. Lesnewich and told her that I truly appreciated her letter of support. I agreed with her assessment of my roller coaster career, one filled with countless highs and lows. I explained how the intense summer prior to my final year saw me give every ounce of my energy each day as I tirelessly worked to return from a devastating injury. I had lifted weights, did hours of daily rehabilitation exercises, and ran the stadium steps in an effort to rebuild my shoulder and attain top physical condition. I also expressed my firm belief that I had gotten every break and was blessed to learn so many valuable lessons throughout the many challenges and disappointments of my high school and collegiate football careers.
I retold the story of the final days of August, when I hit that 35th gate and decided to quit for the first time. I shared my fatigue and how it dissipated when I saw that older couple and their son. I recalled my rejuvenation and how I sprinted those final three gates with a burst of adrenaline gained from the thought of someone watching me.
I told her that in a lifetime of games and practices, the beauty of sport had finally unveiled itself to me on that hot and humid summer afternoon.
I told her that in a lifetime of games and practices, the beauty of sport had finally unveiled itself to me on that hot and humid summer afternoon. I explained that six weeks of post-season reflection had taught me that I had played football for all the wrong reasons. I was motivated to please my parents, my coaches and the people in my hometown. I craved the glory and adulation of being a “star” and desired the financial gain of playing in the National Football League.
I concluded my letter by saying that my experience at Notre Dame was not a disappointment. It was an amazing journey that taught me many life altering lessons, the greatest being “the beauty of sport is the man who runs the stadium steps when the seats are empty, anyone can run them when they are full.”
As we approach the pursuit of our dreams, it is essential to gain the maturity to understand the real lessons presented in the “beauty of sport.” Beneath the championship games, the last second heroics, and the honor and adulation, lies the spiritual solitude of the journey. Real success is not necessarily the fulfillment of your goals; it is the realization that you gave your best, that you responded to adversity, and accepted success and failure with the same demeanor. It is those fundamental principles of learning, taught through the medium of sports, that will become the foundation for future greatness in the real game of life.
I concluded my letter by saying that my experience at Notre Dame was not a disappointment. It was an amazing journey that taught me many life altering lessons, the greatest being “the beauty of sport is the man who runs the stadium steps when the seats are empty, anyone can run them when they are full.”
As we approach the pursuit of our dreams, it is essential to gain the maturity to understand the real lessons presented in the “beauty of sport.” Beneath the championship games, the last second heroics, and the honor and adulation, lies the spiritual solitude of the journey. Real success is not necessarily the fulfillment of your goals; it is the realization that you gave your best, that you responded to adversity, and accepted success and failure with the same demeanor. It is those fundamental principles of learning, taught through the medium of sports, that will become the foundation for future greatness in the real game of life.
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