The spirit of the coach

There are things in life that we know are coming, and we still are not and cannot be prepared enough to experience them anyway.

The most extreme of those things is death.

We knew that former Notre Dame football coach Lou Holtz was dying. His family let us know that by telling us that hospice had been called in to tend to him.

That usually means the patient has a few months or less to live.

Because of his family’s gracious act of warning us that his time was running out, we were allowed a moment to take a big, deep breath and say “goodbye” — if not directly to him, then through social media or in our own souls.

The news came out last Wednesday that the beloved coach-turned-football analyst had breathed his last, and what happened next was the collective gasp from the sporting world that said, “NO! We are not ready!”

Death comes, ready or not, and marches into your life and it never looks the same again.

Lou Holtz won 239 football games in his college football coaching career. He’s still the only coach who has taken six different schools to bowl games. He led Notre Dame to the National Championship in 1988.

With the Irish, he went 100-32-2 from 1986-1996. The championship season of ’88 started a stretch of seasons where Notre Dame won 64 of 74 games and cemented coach’s legacy in Irish lore.

But if you only talked about the wins and losses … if you only mention the “Catholics vs Convicts” game or you only recall the touchdown pass from Rick Meier to Jerome Bettis or his pass to Reggie Brooks for the two-point conversion that beat Penn State in the snow at Notre Dame Stadium, you’ve tragically missed the whole point of Lou Holtz.

Lou Holtz was a man of conviction. He believed in Notre Dame, not because of the tradition or the winning history that came from it, but because of what it stood for and what it represented — and who.

He loved the university’s high academic standards because he knew that the young people who wore those golden helmets on Saturday afternoons would be football players for just a little while.

He wanted them to understand that he was trying to prepare them for life as husbands and fathers, leaders and followers and not just middle linebackers and offensive tackles.

Despite his speech impediment, he was a master communicator.

The way he dealt with people, those in his program and those who were not, was a master class in how to get the most out of humanity.

He was certainly not someone whose physical presence commanded attention. It wasn’t his appearance that filled the room. It was his persona. When he was in a room, he dominated it by not trying to. He was as humble as they came and he spoke to you on your level even though you knew you were not on his level at all.

His storytelling ability was second to none.

No one could spin a yard quite like Lou Holtz could. Even as attention spans have been shrinking in recent years, he could tell a story that would take 10 minutes to lay out, and no one cared a bit.

There was, of course, that side of coach that made us roll our eyes. That was the side that would try to convince us that the 0-8 team the Irish were about to face was the best 0-8 team he’s ever seen. It made us giggle … because it was Lou’s way.

But there is one piece of his life’s philosophy that I will carry with me until I take my own final breath, whenever that might be.

While addressing his team in the home locker room one sun-drenched Saturday afternoon, Coach stood in the middle of his boys, and he explained to them that the game they were about to play would be a hard one to win. It was there, with both hands way down deep in his front pockets and his hat pulled down to just above his eyebrows, he said something that changed my life and that I carry with me to this day and every day for as long as I live.

“Show me someone who has done something worthwhile, and I’ll show you someone who has overcome adversity,” he said. “I’ve never known anybody to achieve anything without overcoming adversity. Adversity is another way to measure the greatness of individuals. I never had a crisis that didn’t make me stronger. Do you understand that what we look for is adversity … because in adversity there is opportunity.”

I tear up just typing that.

He demanded that we strive to do better and be better, to work harder and reach higher, to never stop.

And what he was not driving us all towards was a better self. He was pushing us to go beyond our own boundaries. He wanted us to see what was possible when we chose to use our energy to serve others. He knew that when we loved each other enough, on a football field or off it, we could be more and do more and make the world we lived in a better place.

And he showed us that by living it out every day.

He talked often about the Spirit of Notre Dame. He credited it for many home wins during his time as coach.

Well, the Spirit of Lou Holtz is now free to roam about the locker rooms, the playing surface and the famous tunnel at Notre Dame Stadium.

And maybe, just maybe, one day, when the breaks are beating the boys, the coach of that Irish team will say, “He’s with us today in spirit. I can feel it. Now, let’s go win this one for Lou.”