Notre Dame Lost And I Am Crying... Sort Of

Now that I've wiped the tears from my eyes over tonight's miserable Notre Dame loss to USC, I can get back to re-living some of the happier events that took place today, before the sun set over the Coliseum. The happiest thing by far was the fact that my dad came out for the game.

We headed down to Brewer Park, on the corner of Exposition and Vermont, at around noon. My half-Irish luck shined on me: I thought we'd have to pay for parking but we managed to snag a spot on a street just a few blocks away from the park.

It was the first-ever Notre Dame tailgate for my kids and they were definitely overjoyed to spend some time with their grandpa. He brought them some official Notre Dame Band t-shirts and Olinga, my oldest son, couldn't wait to put his on. My dad played with the pep-band and of course we danced and cheered, "Let's Go, Irish!" along with the rest of the crowd. After he finished playing, my dad let Olinga play his trombone. He also taught him how to do the Irish jig.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Before we knew it, it was time for my dad to head to the Coliseum to watch the game. We said goodbye and headed back to our car. On the walk back west on Exposition, our fellow entrepreneurial Angelenos were out out in full swing.

There were folks wearing USC shirts but selling bootleg Notre Dame shirts and hats. Then there were the people who were charging much moolah for any available street parking. Imagine being asked to pay $20-30 to parallel park on a street in a residential neighborhood. You don't want to pay? Well, there's an implied threat if you don't. It's called, "Good luck having your car completely intact when you stumble out of the Coliseum at the end of the game."

During the five mile drive back to our house, I was so hopeful that Notre Dame would remind USC exactly how the Irish saved civilization. It didn't happen. Instead, I was subjected to three hours of camera close-ups of Brady Quinn looking sad.

Alas, my tears have finally dried and I have a new hope: Could my dad be coming back for the Rose Bowl? We shall see!


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