The Road From the Dome

The best thing about the biennial road trip to Notre Dame is staying and playing in Chicago before and after the game. The worst thing about the trip is driving to and from (especially from ) South Bend to Chicago. When the game comes down to the final play, whether it be a push from a running back or a deflected goal line pass, all 80,795 people leave at the same time. Some head to the dorms, some head south to parts of Indiana, but the vast majority head down the same two lane interstate toward Chicago.

This year, we discovered a new alternative. The beach communities of southwest Michigan are a mere 45 minutes from the stadium. Clustered atop sandy dunes covered with deciduous forest, there stands a series of vacation homes, arrayed along the picturesque lakeshore. In Chicago, the vast expanse of Lake Michigan never feels like a sea. Here, where the forest edges up to a soft beach, gently curving into the horizon, I could be fooled to think this is an ocean. Not that it really matters- lake or ocean, Sawyer, Michigan is a beautiful and peaceful sleepy little resort.

Kurt House (khouse) , Barbara House (babs), John House (Mouse), Steve Chinn (GoBlue!), and myself all met up in Sawyer at a friend’s house the night before the game. We came from all directions- Iowa City, Chicago, Ann Arbor- and gathered together to celebrate the season, to honor our hosts, and share the experiences of the great football road trip. Our hosts served a sumptuous meal of roasted red pepper soup and lamb chops. I brought the wine, digging deep into the cellar to try to match the varied palates of the event. We served a Frank Family Chardonnay (liquid crème brulee), a Foley Pinot Noir (barbecue sauce), and dueling Napa cabs: Heitz Cellar (nutty vanilla) vs Neal (blueberry pie).

The ride to game in the morning was short and scenic. The weather was partly cloudy and cold with a gentle yet bitter wind (or “Midwestern Brisk”, as the stadium announcer said proudly). The campus, dressed in her finest autumn color, was beautiful as always. The grotto was crowded yet hauntingly spiritual. The basilica’s gold walls and altar glittered in the filtered midday light. The Golden Dome’s shone brightly over the quad. And, just when our appetite had begun to return, we smelled the brats. Never before has pulverized roasted pig flesh tasted so good. But it would have been even better if we had any of that Foley Pinot left over. . .

Here’s to 8 more years.



Fight On,

Hans

PS: She got no love from our fearless pool organizer, so I will give a shout out to the only pooler to pick the Purdue Boilermakers over the Ohio State Buckeyes. Babs picked up a hefty 14 points for the win. Although this stunning upset hurt Iowa’s strength of schedule (and USC’s), it was cheered loudly across the cornfields. It means that Iowa now has a game to give in its race to the first Rose Bowl since 1990. Maybe the Hawkeyes will meet the Trojans . . .