Read Online The Rivalry by John Feinstein - Free Book Online

backed away and opened up his microphone. “We have defensive holding on number 15,” he said. “That’s a five-yard penalty and an automatic first down.”
    “Oh, wow!” Tamara said. “That’s blatant—even here.”
    Susan Carol heard David Robinson, who was known for never arguing during his years in the NBA, screaming at one of the officials. “Is it written into your contract that you have to make sure Notre Dame wins?”
    The official looked over, saw who it was yelling at him, and did a double take. “You need to be quiet, Mr. Robinson,” he said, and walked away.
    Niumatalolo had thrown his headset to the ground in complete disgust. He was gesturing to the referee to come over and talk to him, but the ref wouldn’t even look in his direction. The officials had marked off the penalty and put the ball in play at the Navy 40. The Navy defense, forced to come back on the field, was clearly in shock. Three times Valdiserri handed off and the Irish picked up fourteen yards, moving the ball to the Navy 26. There was under a minute left in the game.
    “Looks like they’re going to run the clock down and kick a field goal,” Tamara said. “That’s a little risky.”
    It became less risky when Valdiserri found Bates for a first down at the 12. Navy used a time-out, no doubt hoping to get the ball back with time on the clock. Notre Dame ran two running plays, and Navy used its last two time-outs. There were thirty-nine seconds left. The Irish ran one more play right to the middle of the field and thenlet the clock run down to three seconds before calling time out. There was nothing Navy could do.
    In came kicker Ted Fusco to try a twenty-five-yarder to win the game.
    “Chip shot,” Susan Carol said. “I don’t think he’s missed inside the 40 all year.”
    Fusco kept his perfect record intact. The ball sailed through the uprights as the clock hit 0:00. Final score: Notre Dame 24–Navy 21. The stadium was going crazy, the fans apparently not caring even a little bit that the game ball should have been presented to the officials. Niumatalolo tried to get to the referee but was stopped by the ever-vigilant security guards. Susan Carol was close enough to hear him say, “I’d like you to look my kids in the eye and explain how you can do this to them!”
    Susan Carol felt exactly the same way. The whole game seemed massively unfair. “How
can
they do that?” she said to Tamara.
    “Great question,” Tamara said. “I doubt anyone will answer it, but it’s a great question.”
    Matt Klunder took Susan Carol into the locker room again. Tamara Mearns had gone to see if she could get in to talk to the officials.
    Niumatalolo stood silently in front of his players for a good long while as they settled in around him—some standing, some seated in front of lockers, others taking a knee directly in front of him.
    Finally, he took a deep breath, still clearly fighting his emotions. “Look, fellas, we tell you all the time not to worry about the officiating.” He paused. “We tell you, and I really believe this, that when all is said and done, games are decided by the players. You get a bad call, then you get a good call. It almost always evens out.
    “I can’t look you in the eye after this particular game and tell you that’s the case. I’d like to, because we’re not about making excuses, are we?”
    “NO, SIR!” they all shouted back.
    “So when the media asks about the holding call that cost us the touchdown, and the hold that cost us the interception, you guys are going to say: ‘We don’t make excuses at Navy.’ That’s your answer.
    “And the most important thing for all of you to understand is how proud I am of you. You outplayed Notre Dame today, and everyone who watched that game knows it. Right now that isn’t much consolation, but try to remember it. There isn’t another football team in the country I’d rather be coaching right now.
    “One more thing. When they ask you on the hall