When you’ve been around football long enough—when you’ve stood in locker rooms after gut-punch losses and even tougher wins—you learn something that never leaves you: leadership shows up most clearly when things don’t go your way. That’s why Notre Dame’s decision to decline a bowl game after being left out of the College Football Playoff cuts so deep. Not just as a coach. Not just as a fan. But as someone who believes this program is supposed to stand for something bigger than hurt feelings.
This wasn’t about wins and losses anymore. This was about character, honor, and legacy. And for the first time in my lifetime as a diehard Notre Dame football fan, I can say this program did not take the higher ground.
Let’s call it what it was. Turning down a bowl invitation didn’t send a message of strength. It sent a message of pettiness. It didn’t protect the brand. It weakened it. And it certainly didn’t serve the young men who put everything they had into that gold helmet.
If you’ve ever coached seniors, you know exactly why this matters. Those guys have poured years of sweat, pain, and sacrifice into this program. Early mornings. Late nights. Injuries they’ll feel for the rest of their lives. And for many of them, that final game is sacred. It’s their last chance to fight with their brothers. Their last chance to play for something tangible. Their last chance to walk off the field knowing they left it all out there—and maybe even hoist a trophy.
By refusing a bowl game, Notre Dame took that moment away from them
That doesn’t show tradition. That doesn’t show class. That doesn’t show Notre Dame football.
From a coaching perspective, here’s the hard truth: when adversity hits, you don’t pout. You respond. You line up again. You compete again. You prove your worth between the white lines, not behind closed doors.
The irony here is overwhelming. The best way Notre Dame could have shown the world it belonged in the College Football Playoff was to accept the challenge in front of it. A BYU matchup would have been exactly that—a national stage, against one of the top teams in the country, with everything to gain and nothing to lose.
Win that game, and the narrative changes overnight
You show recruits, media, and the playoff committee that Notre Dame doesn’t need favors. You show that the schedule wasn’t soft. You show that this team was built to fight for a national championship. Instead, by walking away, Notre Dame let others control the story.
Stories matter in this sport
Now let’s talk leadership, because that’s where this decision lands hardest. Pete Bevacqua has been, in most situations, an outstanding athletic director. He’s smart. He’s capable. He understands the weight of this job. That’s why this moment is so disappointing.
In this situation, the response felt small. Emotional. Reactionary. To the outside world—and especially in the cutthroat environment of college football—it looked like a leader letting frustration dictate behavior. Frankly, it came off as a program throwing a tantrum because it didn’t get its way.
That’s not the Notre Dame standard
Let me be clear: this is not a call for anyone’s job. Not even close. But great leaders learn publicly from their mistakes. They absorb the criticism, they own the moment, and they come back stronger. Holding your head high doesn’t mean pretending you weren’t wrong—it means responding the right way when you are.
For Notre Dame fans, this decision felt like a punch to the gut. Yes, we wanted the playoff. Of course we did. But we also wanted one more Saturday. One more chance to see Jeremiyah Love in that gold helmet. One more chance to rally behind a team that gave us everything they had.
We wanted to send these players off the right way.
Bowl games aren’t consolation prizes to the men in that locker room. They’re opportunities. They’re battles. They’re memories that last a lifetime. Coaches know that. Players live for that. And programs built on tradition are supposed to honor it.
Notre Dame didn’t lose its way on the field this season it lost its way in a boardroom
The lesson here is simple and timeless: when you believe you belong, you go prove it. You don’t sulk. You don’t retreat. You line up and compete—because that’s what champions do.
Notre Dame will move forward. The program is strong. The future is still bright. But this was a missed moment, and moments like this don’t come back around.
Next time adversity knocks, Notre Dame has to answer the right way—helmet on, chin up, and ready to fight. That’s the legacy worth protecting.