USC v. Notre Dame, 1974: 55-24.

I attended this game with my dad back on November 30, 1974. It was his sister Josephine's birthday. He drove his '62 bug and parked it at the northeast corner of the Coliseum parking lot. We sat on the north side of the Coliseum, the Trojan side of the Coliseum. We were in the ring of fire. Notre Dame did well. They ran up 24 unanswered points in the first half against USC: 24-0.  Actually, USC scored just before the end of the half but failed in the extra point effort, leaving it 24-6 at the break.

One report comes from Everette Hatcher that

USC scored a touchdown before the half but failed to convert the extra point, leaving the score 24-6 heading into thw lockerroom. Coach McKay said during halftime, “Gentlemen, if you block like you should, Anthony Davis will carry the second-half kickoff back for a score, and we’ll go on from there.  Let’s go!!”  

My dad was worried sick.  Maybe there were more Irish on USC that year. Maybe there were more devout Catholics at USC that year than at Notre Dame.  SC Coach, John McKay, was Scotts-Irish after all and was raised Catholic.  Wikipedia says

McKay was born in West Virginia in the now-defunct town of Everettville in Monongalia County, where he was raised as a Roman Catholic. He was the third of five children born to Scots-Irish parents John and Gertrude McKay. His father was a coal mine superintendent who died when John was 13 years old. He grew up in Shinnston and graduated from Shinnston High School in 1941. Offered a football scholarship to Wake Forest, McKay was on campus enrolling when his widowed mother became ill. He returned home to West Virginia and worked as an electrician's assistant in a coal mine for a year, then enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Force in 1942. McKay served as a tailgunner aboard B-29s and saw action in the Pacific Theater during World War II.

McKay's other son, Rich McKay is the current president of the Atlanta Falcons. That's interesting.  Football blood in that family.  But I did not know that coach John McKay's ashes were spread on the field of the LA Coliseum.  I wonder what my dad would have thought of that.

McKay was the father of former Buccaneers general manager Rich McKay, the current president of the Atlanta Falcons. Another son, J. K. McKay, played wide receiver under him twice: first for the Trojans from 1972–75 and then later in the NFL for the Buccaneers from 1976–1979. McKay and his wife, Corky, had two daughters, Michele McKay Breese, and Terri McKay Florio.

McKay died at St. Joseph's Hospital in Tampa, Florida, from complications due to diabetes on June 10, 2001.^[25] His ashes were spread on the field of the Los Angeles Coliseum.^[26] For his contribution to sports in Los Angeles, he was honored with a Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum "Court of Honor" plaque by the Coliseum commissioners.

Okay, it's not McKay who worried my dad.  I mean he respected and liked McKay but he feared Anthony Davis, who two years prior, in 1972, scored 6 touchdowns against Notre Dame, beating the Irish that year by a score of 45-23.  Anthony Davis was the bane of Notre Dame's existence.  

As a side note, you'll see Coach John Robinson on the sidelines toward the end of the first half.  He was Offensive Coordinator that year and was anointed head coach Of USC in 1976.  He coached there from '76 to 1982. And he was head coach of the Los Angeles Rams from 1983 to 1991, then back to USC from 1993 to 1997 before moving over to UNLV.

I'll never forget when Dadqtold me, "Come on. Let's go."  

"Go!  It's only half-time."

"Come on.  We're going.  Their defense isn't holding."

"They're up 24 to 6!" But I saw the dread in his eyes.  My dad dreaded few things. He was the workaround guy.  He was Mr. Optimism.  And even if a situation called for stoicism, so be it, he would be joyfully stoic. I know how that sounds, but if you knew my dad, you'd know what I mean.  At that moment, the LA Coliseum, the one where the '32 Olympic Games were held, I conjured in my head the Coliseum of Rome with all of its passages, pathways, underground cages, and blood sport of Christians. History was repeating itself.  I bumped the knees of some tenacious Trojan fans as I slid out apologetically, "Excuse me, excuse me . . . ." We found our way to the steps, the long flight to exile. Through the confusion we wound our way up the aisle through the concrete tunnel and out the other side, through the invigorating clouds of cigar smoke, past Farmer John hot dogs, mustard and onions, past tinseled trophies of bygone autumns at the souvenir stand, then through the turnstile and out.  It felt like exile, alone and drifting from the faith.  Leaving the game was tantamount to abandoning the Church, Notre Dame, and Knute Rockne. Was this some delayed drama in protest of the Second Vatican Council of '64?  Could I ever watch actor Pat O'Brien, the man blessed with playing Knute Rockne on the screen, co-starring Ronald Reagan in Knute Rockne: All American? If Leahy knew, who died only the year before, would he still want our attention, fans who'd lost the faith, not in the Church but in Notre Dame?  Was it that Ara Parseghian was a Presbyterian--was that why Notre Dame struggled?  I said earlier there may have been more Irish on USC that day than there were on the Irish. Check Anthony Davis' credentials; he might be half Irish.  Past the rose garden, we made it to our section of the parking lot. 15 minutes had surely passed as we made it back to my dad's '62 German import before the roar from the Coliseum rose over the walls and past our heads like an atomic blast.  What the hell happened?

Anthony Davis took the second half kickoff 102 yards for a touchdown, and the comeback was on.  The Trojans scored 55 unanswered points in only 17 minutes!!!  

Of course, he did.  Two years before, in 1972, Davis scored six touchdowns against Notre Dame. 

USC was 10–0 and ranked #1,^[21] fielding what was arguably their best squad in school history while the Irish were 8–1 and Orange Bowl-bound.^[20] Trojan tailback Anthony Davis did the most damage, scoring six touchdowns including two kickoff returns that went the distance. The Trojans went on to rout Ohio State in the Rose Bowl and to claim the national championship^[21] while Notre Dame would suffer its worst defeat under coach Ara Parseghian against Nebraska in the Orange Bowl, 40–6.^[20]

What makes Anthony Davis' performance even more remarkable and USC's achievement even more impressive is the fact that that year, 1974, Notre Dame had the leading defense--get this--in the nation

Notre Dame and especially its nation-leading defense, which had allowed a mere eight touchdowns all season and an awesomely meager average of 2.2 yards per rush.

Nearly 84,000 people in attendance, and that's not counting the national television audience.  

before 83,552 in-person guests and a national TV audience, USC sportingly spotted Notre Dame 24 points and then started one of the most remarkable scoring blitzkriegs in college football history and the worst disaster for the Irish since the potato famine. 

That is a beautiful piece of writing.  That's from Joe Jares' "That California Earthquake."  I too saw the battle on the gridiron as some historical event relived. 

As we wove our way through the parking lot to find his '62 bug on the perimeter of the grounds, with our backs to the stadium the cheers soared over our heads the way that envious pagans might cheer the carnage of Christians being mauled. 

My dad knew.  We angled into the car seats, my eyes resting on his dash, filled with mementos of the Virgin Mary, one from his days in the Marines, a crucifix or two, and hardware of Catholic saints.  If ever there was a mobile altar this was it and it was inside my dad's '62 baby blue bug.  He had more gold and bronze than some church altars.  But all the holy hardware from his days in the Marines, or medallions from Rome or crucifixes blessed by some Los Angeles priest, could not tie up the legs of Anthony Davis that afternoon as he danced through gaping holes in a Notre Dame defense. The holes in their pride were larger. We'd barely drove out of the USC parking lot before we heard the bowl erupt again.  It was a slow-drip trauma that had nothing to do with the congestion on the Harbor Freeway.


Oh, this was interesting

Neither team was a “cream puff”.  USC went on to win the Rose Bowl and the UPI and MacArthur Bowl National Championships, and Notre Dame went onto ruin Alabama's National Championship hopes in the Orange Bowl.  

Wow.  The details and background of this game just get more interesting the more I dig.  Didn't realize so much was at stake for the national title.  

USC 55, Notre Dame 24, 1974. This is widely considered the craziest comeback game in history, not because of the margin surmounted, but the tidal wave of momentum that turned a defeat into a rout the other way. Since USC was sixth-ranked and Notre Dame No. 5, it also had a lot of national cachet. Notre Dame led 24-0 late in the first half but USC caught a ray of hope with a late TD before halftime. Anthony Davis then took the second-half kickoff 102 yards for a score, and the floodgates flew open. The Trojans outscored the Irish, 35-0, in the third quarter - this, against the nation's No. 1-ranked defense - and by early in the fourth quarter, had put up 55 points in less than 17 minutes. The quote of the day came from Johnny McKay, coach John McKay's son, a wideout for the Trojans: "I can't understand it. I'm gonna sit down tonight and have a beer and think about it. Against Notre Dame? Maybe against Kent State . . . but Notre Dame?"

So, no, USC didn't possess any extra magic for the day.  They felt outclassed, in fact, by Notre Dame, its history, and its stats.  Yet USC pulled it off.  Which only puts Anthony Davis' achievement in glorious relief.

My dad loved USC, but he loved Notre Dame more.  He grew up around the Coliseum.  As a kid, he'd listen to Rockne and Leahy on his transistor.  Fewer things more comforting to a kid listening to an announcer hail the agility of the Four Horsemen playing on your side.  Went to this 1974 game with my dad, the only USC v. Notre Dame game I'd ever attend.  Our seats were on the USC side.  I cheered every gain of Notre Dame despite being seated in the ring of fire or Trojan fans. And despite ND's half-time lead, my dad was sick.  He'd seen enough USC powerhouse teams through the years to know that this one with Hayden and Anthony Davis were lethal, and so at halftime, we left.  He didn't want to be part of this requiem mass.  As we wove our way through the parking lot to find his '62 bug on the perimeter of the grounds, with our backs to the stadium the cheers soared over our heads as though it were Christians being mauled instead of touchdowns being scored.  It was like walking away from an emergency room after a visit with a loved one who survived barely a trauma.  With each step, we walked through our own humiliating crucifixion.  an indelible trauma where you imagine the slaughter with thousands of opponents from a different religion cheered their slaughter as they were from the stadium.  It was like hearing the fans cheering the mauling of Christians from a Roman stadium nothing about it.  

I must have known but I clearly had forgotten or the importance of it was lost but that John McKay, the coach, and the father and the son, were from Covina.  

Pat Hayden grew up in West Covina.  He went to Bishop Amat, so maybe West Covina was secular code for Bishop Amat. 

And then Anthony Davis attended San Fernando High School.