my last home game as a senior at Notre Dame has just ended. right now i am sobbing my eyes out. no longer will i be able to experience the unity and spirit of the student section at a home game as a member of the student body. as much as i have hated it here, seeing my friend PJ crying after the alma mater was played struck a chord deep within me. it hurts. oh god, it hurts. sitting next to PJ who was a member of my section freshman year, and crying with him reminded me of each year of my time here and the memories associated with it. Freshman year my seats were in the endzone and i painted my entire body for every game. sophomore year was similar except that my seats moved a little farther downfield. junior year i learned a little safety and started wearing actual clothes to the colder games. and this year, my senior year has exceeded all expectation. i never expected to be 10-1. i never planned that my last home game as a student would be against the same team that my first Notre Dame game was against: Rutgers. both games were shutouts and both contain their own special aura. this is the first great ending in my life as a senior. when i called my mother she didn’t actually think i was crying. she didn’t really understand, which is ok. next, i called my uncle Corbin, who took me to my first home game. he understood. it is incredibly hard to not have any feelings for a team and a student body that you have rejoiced and sobbed with through victory and defeat for 4 years. oh god, i want my team to do so well, and i want to help them in any way i can. my heart is on the field with them every time they play. i might not understand the intricacies of football but dammit i know what it feels like to want to win with all your power. its so wonderful and so horrible. at least i recognize the importance of this day, but it hurts so much to know it will never happen again, in this same way. i remember my sophomore year and our game against #1 Nebraska. we took those motherfuckers to overtime despite their sea of red. my freshman year, beating Michigan at Michigan, and rubbing salt into the wounds of those unsportsmanlike bastards. the debacle of the Fiesta Bowl and Bob Davie and his whining. our losing season my junior year. and then, this year, not over yet, but glorious all the same. an 8-0 start with a new coach Tyrone, who is nothing but business and respect, who recognizes and desires our participation and demands in the most important ways, excellence from my team: Notre Dame. This year has taught me what it means to be a Notre Dame fan. what it means to love a team, and scream until you lose your voice for victory. when each half fights for the other victory is almost assured. my tears have dried up a bit. but i hope the memories never will. this crying sadness is a good one, i have loyalty, respect, and drive for my fellow students, and i love the ways in which we show our own drives for excellence.