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It has been said that as a person grows older the approach of autumn can be depressing. From green to brilliant reds, orange, and yellow the leaves go and barren trees under lead grey skies shortly follow as a reminder of our own mortality. I look forward to autumn because I’m addicted to Notre Dame football. The words of Grantland Rice best describes how I feel about the mortality of the season.
“Outlined against a blue-gray October sky, the Four Horsemen rode again. In dramatic lore they are known as Famine, Pestilence, Destruction and Death. These are only aliases. Their real names are Stuhldreher, Miller, Crowley and Layden. They formed the crest of the South Bend cyclone before which another fighting Army football team was swept over the precipice at the Polo Grounds yesterday afternoon as 55,000 spectators peered down on the bewildering panorama spread on the green plain below.”
I’ll confess that I am a Notre Doter. This glorious addiction started in third or fourth grade and I have no desire to seek a cure. One Friday afternoon as class was ending one of the nuns reminded us to pray for Notre Dame. We always were given three to four hours of homework a day and this was one assignment that was not going to be a burden.