It all started with a black-and-white TV and a rabbit ear antenna.
Growing up in rural North Mississippi, our house was surrounded by trees and cable was out of reach. The only channel we could get was WTVA, the local NBC affiliate. That’s where it began, the place a young fan first fell in love with Notre Dame. Watching games on that tiny screen, I dreamed of one day seeing a game in person.
That dream became real in 2010.
The first trip is a blur, just three of us: me, Brandon Speck, and Brad Campbell. We drove up the day before a nationally-ranked Utah game. Brad and I had toured Notre Dame the year before but walking into the stadium for the first time was overwhelming. I hung back while my friends grabbed food and fought back tears. Everything caught up to me, from the stress of traveling to the excitement of finally being there. Then we won, and the first trip instantly became unforgettable.
Food has become a huge part of the tradition.
Speck introduced us to Kuma’s Corner in Chicago and Indianapolis, a heavy metal themed restaurant… the Metallica burger is a must every time. We discovered The Dam Landing in Rochester, Indiana, where the wings are worth the detour. At our Chicago hotel, we always return to the pub Elephant and Castle. Some years we say we will try something new, but by the time we get to Chicago, everyone was so tired we ended up going back.
We make our annual stop at Augie’s, the shop that sells Notre Dame memorabilia, where we spend time hunting for unique items and wishing we had more money or figure out reasons to justify buying some of the cooler items.
The group has grown over the years.
From three people in the first trip to as many as eight. A few ladies have joined the guys’ trip along the way. Speck’s daughter, Finley, discovered early on that she would not be going on the trip. She was three at the time. We reminded her that we didn’t let Spencer, her brother, go until he was five, thinking she would forget. She did not. Finally, on her fifth birthday, she called me and said, “Gore, I’m five now. I go to Notre Dame.” That year, she and her mom came along for the trip. That call is still one of my favorite memories from all of these trips, a reminder that this tradition is bigger than football.
We have traveled in every way imaginable, multiple vehicles, flights, rented vans, and yes, we would probably walk if we had to.
Fifteen games later, we have seen blowouts, upsets, freezing rain, negative wind chills, and historic moments like Notre Dame reaching number one in the country. That year, we got to witness Mike Golic, who Speck had stalked for autographs earlier that night, singing on the steps of the Golden Dome.
The only thing that has kept us from going was a pandemic that shut the world down.
Coordinating everyone’s schedules has become the toughest part. Life changes fast and getting everyone to the same game is always a challenge.
There are so many memorable moments, but the BYU game might be the one that sticks the most. It was our first real experience with Midwestern cold. Spencer had never seen snow before. The day he arrived, it wasn’t snowing yet, and he was already frustrated. By the time we got to South Bend, the snow was falling, and just a few steps onto campus, he declared that he hated it. The wind cut through everything and the cold felt like it was trying to push us back home.
Speck, Spencer, and Ceburn left shortly after kickoff to get Spencer out of the weather. Brad, Potter, and I stayed, debating every minute if we should follow them. We layered up, huddled under jackets, and questioned our life choices by halftime. A woman sitting in front of us leaned back and said, “If you think it is cold now, just wait until the end of the third quarter. This isn’t cold!” That was all we needed to hear. We laughed, cursed, and finally admitted defeat. We left after halftime, trudging through snow and wind, laughing at ourselves for thinking we could survive it.
It was the only game we ever left early, but it somehow made the trip even more memorable. It captured everything this tradition is about. The highs, the lows, the surprises, and the friendships that make braving misery worthwhile. That day, it was not about the score or the stats. It was about enduring it together, learning our limits, and making a story we would tell forever.
At the end of the day, it has never really been about football.
It is about the time spent together. For some of us, this trip is the only chance we get to see each other all year. Watching kids grow up on these trips, celebrating wins, surviving brutal weather, and sharing laughter and stories… for me, it all adds up to something bigger than a game.
If you are thinking about starting your own college football trip, just do it. It is worth every mile, every early morning, every challenge along the way. We have battled kidney stones, broken heels, and even a terrorist attack but we have never missed a trip.
It is adventure, friendship, and tradition.
Every year, it is another story waiting to be written.
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