William Nash: UND Scout

If our kids go to a private Catholic high school (email me with financial donations) they will attend our neighbor, Cretin-Derham Hall.  Haven't heard of it?  Well maybe you've heard of Joe Mauer, Matt Birk, Paul Molitor or Josh Hartnett.  Alright, I admit.  That last one was a bit weak.  What has Josh Hartnett done for me lately?  Honestly I'm racking my brain for the last movie he was in and all that comes to mind is Pearl Harbor.  But you get the point.  They were all students at CDH.

And you know who else graduated from there?  Uh-huh.  Michael Floyd.  Who, by the way, looks slightly different this year. Have you noticed?  I think he's been hanging out with the cast of The Jersey Shore during the off-season.  Juiced.



Before GTL



After GTL

I used to despise CDH and their football team but only because they always beat my old high school when it was playoff season.  They were always shrouded in recruiting accusations and now that I live here I realize why.  But now that there's a large possibility my kids will go there I've started pondering the idea of strapping on my bullet-proof vest and driving the streets of North Minneapolis in hopes I'll come across a husky 4-year-old with amazing tackling abilities or lightning-quick speed or an 8-foot vertical.  I'll offer to personally drive him across the river and into St. Paul every day just for the chance that he'll be in my son's graduating class.

OK, I'll stop there before the NCAACP hunts me down.

ANYWAY, where was I?  So yeah, CDH doesn't have their own football field (that happens when your school is located in the heart of the city, not a lot of extra real estate) so  for game days they use the football field at the University of St. Thomas.  Turns out this isn't all that bad of deal for CDH because the UST field was just revamped with NFL-like features.  UST just happens to be Brian's and my alma mater and a mere six blocks from our home.

Last night we bundled the kiddos up in the stroller and headed over to CDH's Friday night game.  I didn't feel it was appropriate to drop $12 in a admission tickets to a university that we still owe hundreds of dollars in student loans to so we tried a sneak attack through the back way by my old dorm hall.  But alas the university had us all figured out and had the entire back side blockaded off.  But what the university didn't plan for was my son's sneak attack plan B.  Charm the security guard in all his 3-year-old cuteness.

First we covered that the security guard shared the same name as William.  Check.  Then we covered that William was three-years-old and that the security officer was William the THIRD.  Check.  Then we found out that he also lives in St. Paul and all three of his children attended CDH.  Check. Check.  Then we found out that the security guard shared the same EXACT birthday with William and with that those blockades magically opened and suddenly we were watching the game with our big toes gracing the edge of the sideline markers.  Not kidding, if there had been a sideline pass our entire family would have been taken out.  Taken out with glee, I might add.

The lesson learned here is that it pays to have kids.  Well cute kids who say cute things, anyway.  If your kid isn't cute I can't help you.  In fact, it could possibly be more of a burden.  You might want to consider adoption.

This trip accomplished two things:

1. It sealed William's fate as a football player.  The kid was glued, GLUED, to the action.  The bigger the hit the more excited he got.  When the players ran past us on their way out during halftime I think he might have wet his pants a little.  When a player was ushered out on a stretcher due to a head/neck injury, instead of getting scared William just made sure to yell, "Good job, buddy!" as he was wheeled past us.

2. It brought Brian that much closer to his dream of being a UND scout.  I don't know if this is really one of his dreams but he probably wouldn't turn the job if it were offered to him.  But really he has only his preschool son to thank for the opportunity.  So who knows, maybe this is a glimpse into William's future.  If anything our sideline perch gave us a firsthand glimpse at some future Domers.

Picture of the Day

If Sara's lucky I'll hand this down to her future Domers.

Flashback

This morning on my way to Starbucks, I had a flashback to Junior High, and it was a tad concerning, although many years too late. It had to do with academics and Notre Dame. And then my single flashback had a snowball effect.

I should preface this with the fact that I basically spent my Saturdays during the fall at Notre Dame...or least it seemed. My brother Terry attended ND, so we spent many Saturdays in South Bend. My brother and I have a nine-year age difference between us; that means he was there for some pretty glorious games. The days of Rocket, Rick Mirer, Chris Zorich...the list goes on. This age difference means that when my brother was a freshman, I was nine years old (4th grade? 5th grade?). I quickly earned the nickname "Midge" from his friends in Alumni Hall and I also learned that football tickets CAN buy happiness.

I'm getting off track here.

Back to the story. Let's just say that I wasn't the most motivated student. (I was the youngest, after all.) As a result, my science grades were a bit sub-par. It just so happened, however, that my science teacher was a HUGE ND fan. While other science teachers had the periodic table hanging in their classroom, he had the Golden Dome. The man had his priorities straight. I must have told my parents this, because I was quickly offering him tickets to the coming week's games. And this wasn't a one-time occurrence. I knew what my parent's were doing, and I fully supported it. Report card time rolled around and...voila! Wait...what?!?!?!? a C?!?!?!? I quickly approached my teacher and said "Mr. Krecja...a C? You gave me a C? How could I get a C???!!!???" He pulled out his little book that teachers keep track of their grades in and showed me how I earned that C. I looked at him in disbelief and said "But my parents gave you all those ND tickets!!! For FREE!!! And you gave me a C?!?!? Thant's not how it works!" I bet my parents were more upset than I was. What a waste of tickets. Such a shame. You're probably waiting for a "lesson learned" quip here. Well, you won't get one. Because that's how the world usually works. I did learn, I suppose, that I won't risk wasting tickets on my kids' teachers. That's what I learned.

Now, lets fast-forward to high school. Although my first round of ACT scores were actually quite decent, we all know that no one accepts their first offer. I was all set to retake my ACTs on Saturday morning...until ND v. BC 50-yard line, nearly front-row tickets fell into my dad's hands.

Dad: "Sara, call a friend and see if they want to go to Notre Dame on Saturday."

Me: "But Dad, I have my ACTs!!!!!"

Dad: "I thought you already took them."

Me: "I did! I have to retake them."

Dad: "Why? What did you get on the first round?"

Me: "xx"

Dad: "out of how many?"

Me: 36

Dad: "Oh, you don't need to retake those! Lets go to the game."

And so we did.

Today's lineup highlights:

Notre Dame @ Michigan State (Go Irish!)

Wisconsin vs ASU (at Camp Randall-biting my tongue about academics on this game! Too bad it's not brains vs. brawn.)

USC @ Minnesota (hilarious)

Ohio @ Ohio State

Texas @ Texas Tech

Iowa @ Arizona

Week 2: Better Late Than Never

I know it's Thursday which means Week 3 is already upon us but I'm going to rewind and recap Week 2 anyway because there's just too much to ignore.

Once again we committed to a full 8-10 hours of college football last Saturday.  The other waking hours were used solely for wiping booger noses as a cold virus swept through our home.  Doesn't matter though.  It just made me feel that much less guilty about staying indoors with the television blasting while a perfectly pleasant fall day was happening outside.

We started our day with a little comedy: The Gopher game.  What?!  Even though I've always been a Minnesota resident I've never actually been a die-hard Gopher fan.  I leave that to my brother-in-law (not a Nash).  He has season tickets to that brand spankin' new stadium but that's pretty much the only thing that shines on Saturdays when it comes to the U of M.

I try to cheer for the Gophs but it's really only out of sympathy.  It's like their annual rivalry game with Wisconsin.  Sometimes I want the Gophs to bring home the famous Ax only because I feel bad for them.  It's been seven years!  But deep down I don't want Wisconsin to tarnish their record with a loss against a team that should be competing in Division II.  Sorry, someone had to say it.

When the maroon and gold defense allowed the eighteenth South Dakota touchdown I wanted to text my BIL: "Whoops."  But I felt that might throw too much salt in the wound.  It was also premature because for a second there it looked like the Gophs might actually save a bit of face and pull out a win.  But I didn't get to find out the result live.  Brian told me I had to change the channel because it was burning his eyeballs.

We watched a bit of the Wisconsin game which was fun but not as fun as being there.  Ahem.  Sara?

Sara can let you know about the live experience but here's my quick summary from my perch on the couch:

1. I thought it was cute how San Jose St. celebrated little victories like a sack or a stop on 3rd down.  I also loved that they participated in "Jump Around" after the third quarter.  (You see, Minnesota?  These are supposed to be practice games.  They're supposed to be fun to watch.  Not agonizing.)

2.  David Gilreath got hurt during the game and did not return.  Brian said this is a big deal.  We fast-forwarded much of the game so we never got to hear what happened or how long he might be out.  Anyone?  Anyone?

3. William was handed down a number 9 Wisconsin jersey from a cousin.  Number 9 is Blake Sorensen who just happens to be from the Twin Cities.  Well, him and like half of the Badger team.  I hate to throw another one at the Gophs but c'mon.  Recruiting.  Heard of it?  Anyway, Sorensen had a bunch of tackles plus an interception and 16 or so yards on Saturday.  Pretty sure it's all because of William.  Just sayin'.

And now on to Notre Dame.  But first a few words on my love/hate relationship with this team.

Notre Dame is like the Yankees.  You either are the biggest fan that ever lived or your hate for them rivals that of things like the Natzis or Kate Gosselin's haircut.  Or just Kate Gosselin.  Whatever.  Well, I'm here to say that if you are of the latter group you'll still be able to read this blog without seething disgust.

It's true that when push comes to shove I will root for the Irish.  I'm Catholic.  I can't help it.  But because my husband is obsessed with this team (Obsessed doesn't even do it justice.  What's bigger than obsessed?) I find it part of my wifely responsibility to torture him with all sorts of tantalizing and crushing comments.

But now that Charlie Weis is out, my stock supply of comments (mostly fat jokes) have been reduced by half.  Damnit.

Here are four things you should know about new ND Coach Brian Kelly in a little segment I like to call "Brian Says."  I made him give me two points that excited him and two points that made him nervous.

1.  Wherever he's been, he's always held a winning record.

2.  He's eerily similar to Lou Holtz.  (Brian says this is a positive.  I'm not so sure.)

3.  He doesn't have a lot of experience against high-ranked teams.

4.  He's never had to recruit on a national level like ND needs to do.

What excites me is looking at the new QB.  Goodbye, Jimmy Clausen.  Hello, Dayne Crist.  Am I right or am I right?  Reminds me of the Brady Quinn days and not just because he's wearing the same jersey.

Right off the bat ND was tested in Week 2 against their rival, Michigan.  Unfortunately Crist got poked in the eye or something, I wasn't really listening, and the team started to unravel.  Nate Montana came in and backed up for a quarter and a half and I'm pretty sure he went home that night and thought about slitting his wrists.  Not only is he being compared to his superstar father his whole life but now, when he finally gets his Rudy chance, he totally blows it.

When the third quarter started I was pretty sure I was watching the same game from last year.  I was also pretty sure our neighbors were going to call the cops on us for domestic violence or disturbing the peace.  The second half started out hopeless, then wait, just kidding, the Irish are rocking the mullet.  We're gonna win this thing!  Then...hold on, just kidding. Michigan just scored with 20 second left.  No, wait!  Two catches and the Irish are within reach.  Yes!  They're gonna do it!  A throw into the endzone AND...Nope, hopes crushed again.

Same old fricken story.

My overall prediction for ND is that they'll go 7-5.  Their other four losses will be Michigan State, Stanford, Utah and USC.

Now excuse me while my husband beats me for even writing such obscenities.

Tune in next week for more Gopher bashing as they take on USC.  This is gonna be good!

And then there was...Sara

(Disclaimer: I've never blogged before. In fact, I had never even read a blog until Mamanash (shameless re-plug) was born. Consider this my "Hail Mary" of blogging.)

It's ironic, Jenny's story and mine. Except we weren't an NFL household. We were strictly Notre Dame, and Notre Dame only. You didn't dare watch another game, unless it was to see what the Irish were up against as the season progressed (not to worry, though, we didn't just have Lou...we had-have-Touchdown Jesus). The Morans had onion dip. The Lallys had onion soup. They watched football on Sunday after church. We watched it on Saturday before 5 o'clock mass. Anyway, on with the story...

Michael and I met during football season. If you know Mike at all, then you know it's a damn good thing we didn't meet during baseball season, or we wouldn't be married today. We quickly discovered our mutual love for college football. We both loved the Irish, and since he's a Badger, I quickly became a fan of Bucky. It was OK, after all, because the Badgers are Big 10, and the Irish have a fear of commitment (which, in this case, is a good thing). I once asked Mike if I were a Sox fan, would he have dated me. I don't think I finished my sentence before he replied "no way." I believe the same to be true if I were a Buckeye, a Wolverine, or even a Wildcat. The term "double header" took on a new meaning-one that I could not only tolerate, but I wlcomed with open arms, and a red refillable plastic mug.

Much like Jenny's story, I met many of Michael's family members at one of Timmy's football games. The last game of his college career, in fact. And I was terrified! I'm not exactly your team gear-and gymshoe-sporting kind of fan. If any of you know me at all, you know that's just not my style. I kept a shoe store open the night before we drove to Whitewater, WI an hour past closing in search of a "sensible boot with a heel" (as not to be judged for dressing up for a football game). It's true, and it exists. So we arrive in Whitewater, and Maura, Molly, Tim Sr. and Brian stare as we approach. Brian can attest; I was pretty much mute the entire game. Nerves don't even describe what I was feeling with any justice. That is, until after the game at Salvo's Bar, with my very first cheese curd ever in hand, when Tim Sr.'s blackberry rang. His ringtone was the Notre Dame Fight Song. Cue the feeling of calm.

So here we are, months after Jenny's brilliant idea. I won't pretend to know half as much as she does, but I'll try to hold my own. Don't count on me getting too technical. And don't count on sensible shoes. This is, after all, Helmets and Heels.

In The Beginning...

Here's the thing about me and football: I've always loved it.

When I was growing up it was totally normal to randomly hear the shout of a four-letter word on Sunday afternoons.

My dad was a big football fan.  Mostly Vikings but he'd watch anything.  And the thing about it was, my mom liked it too.  I think that's how I really learned that it wasn't just OK for girls to be football fans but it was also OK to understand the game, really understand it.

We'd all gather in our small 8'x8' den after morning mass.  The Sunday paper would still be spread on the kitchen table, the cereal bowls still in the sink.  My dad would crack his first beer of the day: a Grain Belt Premium, always.  My mom would open the potato chips and get to work on her famous but oh-so-easy cream cheese and garlic salt dip.  The clock struck noon and kick-off commenced.  It was game time.

And while I'll always call myself a Vikings fan it was Brian who made me a college football fan.

When I first met Brian there were a lot of qualities about him that led me to believe we were a match made in heaven.  It wouldn't have been a deal-breaker, but I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a sense of relief when I found out he loved the game of football.

But Brian didn't just love football.  He was a Nash.  Nashes are born with football wound deeply into  their DNA.  And thus, football was often a common denominator in our dating years.

Early in our relationship I was invited to Brian's younger brother's high school football games.  (Once I even wore his jersey to an away game.  51, baby!)  Later I would meet much of his extended family at a Wisconsin vs. Penn State game in Madison.

After Brian and I got married our love of football, mostly college, crossed the line from a fun pastime to an all-day Saturday obsession.

First it was just Wisconsin OR Notre Dame.  Then it became both.  Then we would maybe flirt with the Goph's game a little.  And then we became sincerely interested in the top 25.  So of course we had to watch the ranked match-up (or two or three!) of the week.

Then we had kids and I wondered if maybe our priorities might readjust.  But instead we just gifted ourselves with a DVR, which, if I'm being honest, just enabled our addition even more.

Often, in the midst of our Saturday rendezvous, I'd turn to Brian and remind him that he had the best wife in the entire world.  What wife willingly gives up her Saturdays to watch football for eight plus hours and enjoys it and can competently converse about it?  Me.  That's who.

Brian's been bugging me about starting a college football blog from a female perspective for a while now.  I admit it.  I secretly covet the Sports Guy's job.  Shouldn't there be a Sports Gal?  And if there was, shouldn't I be that gal?  (In truth, I'd never get that job because I couldn't tell you a lick of information about basketball or other brown crayon sports like, say, bowling or curling.)

I'd hemmed and hawed about the idea for months but one night I went to bed and got a lightbulb idea.  What if I started this so-called blog with Sara?  Sara is the only other wife I know who commits herself to college football as much as I do.  Why?  Because she also married a Nash brother.  Sara is my sister-in-law.  Our husbands are brothers.

I shared my idea with Sara and she was sold before I even finished speaking.  Sara's awesome like that.

And so we begin...

...but before we do I must mention that if you're a reader of my other blog, mamanash.com (shameless plug), you should know that I intend for this blog's style to be a lot different.  There probably won't be a lot of touchy feely posts.  If you cry, I hope it's because you're laughing.  I probably won't always be politically correct and when that happens, try not to be offended.  It's all in good fun.

Now, it's game time!