By Brendan
Rielly '96J.D.
An important part of parenting is brainwashing our children,
otherwise known as instilling in our children the appropriate
level of devotion to the correct teams (Notre Dame, University
of Maine, Green Bay Packers, New England Patriots, Boston Red
Sox and Chicago Cubs) as opposed to the incorrect teams (all others,
especially the New York Yankees).
I started this process early on with all our kids. Our son was
born, blessedly, between Notre Dame's last regular season football
game and the 1995 Orange Bowl game with Florida State. I say blessedly
because the fear of any true Domer expecting a child somewhere
around football season is that the child will come during a football
game, presenting a difficult decision for the father: Can you
drop your wife at the hospital and get back before kickoff?
No! Obviously you should be at the hospital with your wife experiencing
the joy of … oh my God! Fumble! Did you see that? Notre Dame
just got the ball. What's the matter? Still? You're still in labor?
You can't hold it? Okay, fine, we'll go. Here, let me get the
bag … oh my God! Touchdown!
When Notre Dame opened its newly renovated stadium a few years
back, we met some old friends for the first game of the year.
Not a half hour before game time, one of our friends went into
labor. Now, if you have to ask what she was doing at the game
when she could go into labor at any moment, you have not been
paying attention and will need to repeat this course. We tried
to convince her husband that they already had three children (he
knew that) and that she didn't need him (he knew that, too). However,
their true believer status will forever bear an asterisk because
they both went to the hospital rather than to the game. But he
did check the score during contractions.
If you're going to do a really professional job brainwashing
your children, you need to have your spouse on board. When we
got married and moved out to South Bend, my wife had watched a
total of two Notre Dame football games on television, and by "watched,"
I mean be in the same room while the television was on.
For the first game of the season, she wore a Notre Dame hat,
shirt, shorts, socks and, I kid you not, Notre Dame sneakers.
Notre Dame was playing Northwestern. Just about a minute into
the game, the Northwestern running back broke off a long run.
Suddenly, from my blushing bride who had never been a football
fan before, erupted this primal roar: "Kill him! Kill him! Kill
him!"
She was born again. She was a true believer.
With my wife on board, I then turned to our son. The first time
he watched the Green Bay Packers play, he was so excited, he pooped
his diaper. Now that's fan support. Can you imagine if everyone
at Lambeau Field pooped their pants when the Packers won? It'd
be disgusting. No one would ever go back there. So we can't get
too carried away. Except for the Super Bowl. Then all bets are
off.
We've continued this with both of our girls. One of our oldest
daughter's first sentences was: "Go Irish!" In family football
games, our son is usually the quarterback because he loves to
be in charge and have other people do all the running around and
getting dirty. Our middle child is the middle linebacker, with
her devastating quickness and closing speed, and her particular
delight in tackling her brother. There's nothing like listening
to my wife explain the concept of "tackling with love." And our
youngest? God love her. She is the nose tackle because she can
bull through anything. Game day is a time for us all to gather
around the Rielly Bounteous Feast and cheer together.
And coming together is what it's really all about. With all
our busy lives, we often need an excuse to be in the same room
together and laugh and talk with each other. Plus, like so many
other families with so many other schools, Notre Dame is a part
of my family. It connects my children to me and me to my parents
and beyond. My mother's mother used to hunker down next to her
static-y radio for every Notre Dame game. My father went to Notre
Dame, as did I. I was born just down the street from Notre Dame.
So was my sister. And, 25 years later, so was my son.
When my family moved to Maine the summer after my second grade
year, Notre Dame games often weren't televised coast to coast
(unlike today). We spent many Saturday afternoons driving around
in our van, listening to the game on the radio, trying not to
run into things. Every summer, we would drive back to visit relatives
and take a quick peek at campus.
We may have taken the indoctrination a little too far, though.
When our son was 5, one evening, just as he was going to bed,
he asked what Heaven was like. I told him it was a place where
all your family and friends were waiting for you and where everyone
was always happy. Does God have the Star Wars movies,
he asked. Of course, I responded. He has all the Star Wars
stuff. Later that year, my wife and I were flying out to Indianapolis
and planned a quick trip up to Notre Dame. We asked our son if
he wanted anything from campus. Star Wars figures, he said. Big
guy, I said. I don't think Notre Dame has Star Wars figures.
Yes, it does, Dad, he said. God has all the Star Wars
stuff, and God lives at Notre Dame.
We made sure we brought some Star Wars figures home.
Wouldn't want to call his whole belief system into question.
Brendan Rielly graduated from Notre Dame Law School in 1996
and is now a partner in the litigation department of Jensen Baird
Gardner & Henry in Portland, Maine. He lives in Westbrook,
Maine, with his wife, Erica, and their three children: Morgan,
Shannon and Maura. Brendan has completed a tongue-in-cheek guide
to parenting entitled
How to Raise the Perfect Child, Or At Least Lie About
It, and is currently shopping that book to several agents.
(October 2005)
