In my Notre Dame piece this morning, I held out a thought that in its own way is worth repeating. As long as Notre Dame football is played, what the guys did in eight minutes last Saturday will be talked about and rejoiced in. Some have already ranked it up with Joe Montana’s last quarter heroics against Houston in the Cotton Bowl years ago (1979). Every time a new anniversary of the “gridiron classic of the century” (Notre Dame 10 — Michigan State 10), 1966, comes around again, this recent game, this Quadragesimo Anno, this fortieth anniversary game of 2006, will be mentioned in the same breath.
It is really rather neat how a mere eight minutes of great play can lift a bunch of guys into a kind of immortality. There are moments when athletes play like gods or daimons, a cut above ordinary human capacities, and Fate seems to blow behind their sails, and in the end one feels very, very blessed.
Happens every so often at Notre Dame.
We sort of delight in comebacks best of all.