Shenanigans
A story from Francis Wallace, author and one of Rockne's first student
publicity agents:
After two days'
practice the team took off for Nebraska and what was expected to be a very
happy Thanksgiving Day and a finish to an undefeated, if once-tied season.
When we got to Lincoln I made a quick investigation and decided to violate
the constitution of the Road Scholars [Editors note: Road
Scholars was the name given to students who "skived" or snuck aboard
the team train for a trip to the game].
"Rock," I said, "I've only slept in a bed twice in the last week. I'm all in. It's costing you two bucks for each player. Sign me up for a bed and I'll give you the two bucks."
The great coach pondered that, then made a notable decision and concession. "Well, Frank, I wouldn't like to see you do that. I've got a double bed in my room. You can sleep with me...
I established a new world's record, especially for Thanksgiving Eve, by being in bed that night at nine o'clock. At nine-thirty Rock came in with the Nebraska track coaches. They played cards until five in the morning. I didn't get much sleep but learned a few things about penny ante.
* * * * * *
From Dan Young, player, about the 1919 game at Nebraska:
I remember the first
time I ever played against Nebraska. The game was played at Lincoln. We
were going into the stadium through a tunnel from the dressing quarters of
the gym and I noticed Rock picking up the pace as we approached the
stadium entrance. SuddenIy, he began dog-trotting; then he was actually
dashing out into the arena.
Later, I asked him for an explanation. "Well," he told me, '.we were playing on a foreign field. I had to do something about chasing that jinx. I had to let Nebraska see how eager we were to play them." After I became a head coach. I took that leaf from Rock's notebook and did the same thing. After all. when you've been exposed to a man of such stature and character, you go along and emulate him without giving much serious thought to what it all means. So I started emulating Rock way, way back, I can tell you that. But to go back to that Nebraska game, Rock performed a very unique bit of psyching. We had scheduled a light, pregame workout in the Cornhusker stadium on Friday. A heavy rain had muddied up the field the day before, and Nebraska officials had dumped a thin layer of wood shavings on it to strengthen the footing. Rock was the first to walk onto the field. He tested the surface with his toe. He noticed that the dirt underneath the shavings was loose and soft. The sun was out that afternoon and he felt the rays should be getting at the dirt. He called to two of our student managers. "Here," he said, pulling some paper money out of his pocket, "go down to the local hardware store and buy us 35 brooms. We've got work to do." When the managers returned, Rock issued the brooms to the team. "All right," he said, 'we'll start at this end of the field and sweep off all these shavings. We must allow the sun to dry the dirt." A large group of Nebraska officials, students and townspeople had come out to get a sneak preview of the great Notre Dame football team working out. They didn't see us touch a pigskin. The only sight they saw was 35 varsity members sweeping a hundred yards of wood shavings off the field. They simply gawked in amazement. When the job was done, Rock called us back to the sideline and collected the brooms. "All right, boys, good job," he said. .'That will be all for this afternoon. Now, go back to your rooms and rest for a while. Dinner will be at 6 o'clock." That was a novel pregame "workout," I can tell you. But, once more, Rock had it all figured. He knew that as each of us went swish-swish with our broom, ridding the field of all those shavings, we were saying to ourselves, "By golly, these Nebraska boys out here in the West must be terribly serious about winning that game tomorrow." Rock's message was clear. What he was telling us was: "You fellas had better give the game the same dimension of seriousness as Nebraska, if you want to win." We wanted to win, all right. And we did win, 14 to 9. George Gipp was never more brilliant. * * * * * From Maurice "Clipper" Smith, a guard from the 1917-1920 teams:
The Notre Dame-Nebraska rivalry was really
something in those days. Whenever we traveled to Lincoln, the Nebraska
fans gave us hell. They lampooned us with such cries as 'Fish Eaters!
Fish Eaters! Fish Eaters!' Our boys didn't exactly feel welcome.
In 1920, we played the Cornhuskers at Lincoln on the third Saturday of the season, and the hosts had neglected putting benches on our side of the field. They had placed stacks of straw along the sidelines, though, and this is what our subs sat on. I remember Gipp put on a great show that day, leading us to a 16-7 victory. He ran himself bowlegged, until he was completely pooped out. But Rock wouldn't take him out and give him a rest. I remember Gipp -hands on hips, tongue hanging out -would sidle up near where our subs were sitting, and beg Rock by every facial contortion he could make to take him out so he could catch his wind. Rock, giving him no sympathy, merely turned away from him. Gipp got even with him, however. On several occasions, with the ball resting between our own 20 and 30-yard lines, Joe Brandy, the quarterback, called for Gipp to punt. Instead of punting, Gipp drop-kicked. I think that's where Rock lost most of his hair. Gipp once drop-kicked a 68-yard field goal, but here he was trying for 70 and 80 yards. So each time he went back into punt formation, he'd drop-kick. Finally, Rock got the message. He took Gipp out. I remember that Gipp walked over to a pile of straw, dropped to his knees in utter exhaustion, and then crawled over to one end of the pile, behind Rockne, and grabbed a cigarette out of a spectator's hand, inhaled several drags, handed it back. And then it dawned on me. While Rockne had been trying to get him in condition, all Gipp was interested in was getting out of the game so he could have a fast smoke. * * * * * * To read previous versions of Shenanigans click below:
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