From Tim McHugh:
There we were, on yet another of those blue-gray days in early spring, trying to surmount yet another obstacle, this time the newly-minted Georgetown Hoya VARSITY lacrosse team with a paid coach, a substantial following of fans and the home field advantage.
From Fred Morrison:
The thing I remember most about the '70 season was our spring trip to Maryland.
We had heavy daily snow and freezing temperatures in South Bend prior to the trip.
We got the ACC parking lot plowed off so we could get some full fieldwork in prior to
the trip. Our first stop was to play the Mount St. Mary's varsity in western Maryland.
There was little difference between the South Bend and Western Maryland weather.
The Mounties put us up in a dorm with no heart for the night. We repaid their
hospitality by upsetting them the next day on a frozen field with 30-knot winds.
After warming up we proceeded to Baltimore where we were put up by local parents and Alums.
Jerry Kammer's and Tim Baker's moms kept the team full of great home cooking. We made a
team pilgrimage to Bachrach Rasin to pick up some new sticks, then had a practice at Loyola
College. The Loyola field was a sea of mud and snow. The condition of the field didn't
prevent Captain Ken Lund from having the team lay on our backs with our legs lifted so
we could do "Jack and Julie" legs open, legs closed stretches in honor of 69 Club President
Jack Pierce. We got little else accomplished accept getting soaked and ruining our sticks
gut walls. Luckily Jerry Kammer's dad Doc Kammer was a physician with an infinite supply of
tongue depressors, which we needed to get our stick in shape for our next game against the
Georgetown varsity. Georgetown had just turned varsity, hired a new coach from Hopkins and
put a real effort into recruiting. Georgetown had a game coming up against Hopkins and one
of the parents told us that they were concerned that they might pick up some bad habits
playing against us. Two of Georgetown's attackmen were teammates of Ed Hoban at Cranwell
prep school in Lenox Mass. Ed provided a detailed scouting report on the Cranwellians.
I was glad of this because I was assigned to cover one of them. His move was to run around
the crease, change direction at X then run around the crease some more. According to Ed if
you stay on his hip and keep your stick on his hands he won't get his shot off. Ed's
strategy work great for me. When the clock came on the field at the end of the game we
were up by one and my man had the ball. I stayed on his hip for the entire minute. He
finally got a shot of as the gun sounded. The shot hit me in the head. I wasn't sure if
I was dizzy from the shot to the head or from running around the crease so many times.
As we were changing in the locker room after the game a man came in saying he had played at
Georgetown in the club days and that he was upset that the program was being upgraded.
He gave the team a case of champagne as thanks for our victory. We took the champagne to a
great party that the Maryland Alumni Club threw for us including great food, a live band and
female companionship from Notre Dame College. I next morning we headed back to South Bend
where the weather was even worse.
From Jack Pierce:
One thing I would like to pass on about the 1970 season was the 1969
Fall Clinic. As you may recall, we had a very difficult 1969 season. Our
captain, Robbie Trost left school in the middle of the season and Tim McHugh
picked up the ball and carried the team through the season. After the 1970
team elections, Tim and I knew that we needed to build a stronger foundation
for next year and the future. We decided to host a Fall Clinic to attract
new players coming into the school.
Recollections of the 1970 Season
As Jack Pierce notes in his remarks, the Irish fielded a team with 10 players with more than a year of experience, an enthusiastic group less seasoned, and what often seemed to be a thousand freshmen, though there were but 16. In the fall of '69, as Jack notes, they were recruited, very successfully, I might add, and caught on to the game, blasting some unsuspecting (and obviously unremembered) team in a late fall game.
Over the winter we convinced Nappy to both get us some locker space in the then-ACC, and to let us use the visiting team rooms in the stadium as Lax headquarters. We used one of the gyms over the corners of the ACC to practice a couple of times a week. There were more twirling sticks and cool guys in those gyms than ever seen before, and, perhaps, since.
The late winter and early spring were bleak. But we had to get started. Jack and Chris Servant were Bengal Bouts veterans. They thought it would be a good idea to use a Bengal Bouts training routine to get these kids into shape - for me - hey any chump can go three rounds - why not? After the first day my question was - why? A couple of the lads fell by the wayside but I caught the bug (and, therefore, everyone else did), and before long, we had learned what Indian files were (running the stadium steps was a break), and seen parts of South Bend and Mishawaka County not recently seen by anyone else. More importantly, there were a lot of guys who could run. So far, so good.
Of course, part of the process was an attempt to instill in the whole team some sense of what Notre Dame lacrosse was all about. Words could not adequately convey what teammates, friends, characters and consequent adventures I had along the way, just look at the 67-69 teams to get a sense of where I was coming from, but we did our best. Yet, something more was needed, but was soon to come.
Our first game was against Bill Joseph and the Columbus Lacrosse Club. One issue. We hadn't scrimmaged full field since spring work had begun. No problem, get an orange ball and have at it in a foot and a half of snow. Strong legs got stronger, stick skills deteriorated proportionately.
The following week, we ran and ran and ran, and, at the end of the game had eked out a win. What was this?
So it was out to the east to see if this was for real. We played Mount St. Mary's in an atmosphere of freezing rain, on a hilltop (where else), on as gray and bleak a day as ever encountered in the Bend. We won again.
The stage was set for Georgetown. Spitting rain on a hilltop, 30 knots of wind, hostile crowd, etc. etc. Things started well, about eight minutes into the game one of our players called a time out. Why, you may ask. He was tired. Freshman? Of course. It was contagious. Goalie Jerry Kammer decided it was time to take out one of Hoban's smart-mouthed Hoya friends while they were leading 3-1or so. Beautiful. Man down, I'm in goal - 4-1.
But, for a moment or so a ray of sunshine peeked through the clouds and Dave Jurusik, a freshman at the time, ran off a Hoban pick just before the half and found the net. The sun went back behind the clouds.
The second half began inauspiciously as the Hoyas were out to prove ND's 1967 19-3 victory was a fluke. 5-2, then 6-2 (I don't really remember, but it makes a good story.)
But we were hustling and HAD LEGS.
Now, we had to figure out what to do to turn things around. A voice kept saying "use 53 to set more picks for the skinny kid." I thought at first it might be my guardian angel, but I had missed Mass the previous week. I looked back to see if it was someone from the stands, but there were a lot of guys in trench coats watching and providing advice to both sides - hard to pick any one out. Anyway, I called a time out and said "53 set more picks for the skinny kid." Result, goal on a rebound. 6-3.
Fourth quarter, pretty much status quo, but we now had the wind at our back. We got another goal, and MO had clearly swung to the good guys.
I have a distinct recollection of cutting toward the ND bench during a clear and seeing a Georgetown player nearly decapitate whoever was trying to pass to me. I have an equally distinct recollection of one of the trench coat guys rising from his seat, jumping over the four rows of spectators in front of him and coming 15 yards on to the field to explain to the referee, using a lot of words I had never heard before, why his failure to call a penalty on the play was, well, incorrect.
Clearly, I had to deal with a unique species. "What the !@#$%^&* are you doing?" I asked, never having seen him before. Big smile, eyes crinkled behind the horn rims "Oh, hi Tim, I'm Jack Tate." "Use 53 to set more picks for the skinny kid" echoed in my brain.
"Jack, why don't you go sit down, I'll take care of this." "OK, I'll see you later. Sorry, ref."
The Georgetown coach went berserk beseeching the referee to impose all kinds of sanctions - fortuitously, the ref was wise enough to send both teams to the bench to cool down.
The Irish arrived at the bench, eyes as wide as saucers - "Who or what was that?" "That was our Founding Father" I reported, "I've never met him before, but he's what Notre Dame lacrosse is all about."
The team got the picture, that certain context which helps a team gel, and it could not have come at a better time. As before, we won.
During the summer of 1969 Tim and I sent out 100 invitations to
incoming freshmen. I had stopped back in South Bend after my West Coast
Middie Cruise in August '69 and was permitted by the then Admissions
Director to review files of incoming freshmen (something that would be
prohibited by today's Privacy Laws).
I looked for athletes who were not designated to play varsity sports, but
had strong athletic backgrounds. About 60 showed up for the clinic, 20 of
whom stayed with the team to form the foundation of the 11-2 1973 team. One
was a football player from Oklahoma (Jim Lepley); another was a basketball
player from Long Island (Rich Mullin). Joe Anderson, Dave Jurusik and many
others showed up for the clinic, played for four years and became mainstays
of ND lacrosse during the formative years of the '70s .
Many years later when Tim and I have looked back over our lacrosse
experiences at Notre Dame, we look at that Fall Clinic as our contribution
to the future of Notre Dame Lacrosse.