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THE CALL, LIKE the one that arrived hours before Opening Day in 1981, came out of nowhere.

And Fernando Valenzuela, just as he had been some 42 years earlier, was caught off guard.

Being asked, as a 20-year-old who had never started a major league game, if he was ready to take the mound to open the season for the pennant-contending Los Angeles Dodgers was one thing. Being told at the age of 62 — after using that initial start more than four decades earlier to launch the cultural phenomenon known as Fernandomania as well as a decorated 17-season career — that his iconic uniform number 34 was being retired by the Dodgers? Well, that was una otra cosa.

Another thing. Entirely.

The Dodgers usually only retire the numbers of players who are enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame (the late Jim Gilliam was the previous lone exception, his number 19 retired two days after his sudden passing in 1978), and Valenzuela fell off the writers’ ballot after garnering just 3.8% of the vote in 2004.

And yet an exception was made thanks to the appeal and continued cultural impact of the Dodgers’ homegrown Mexican pitcher who transcended the game and transformed a fan base.

“What do you want me to say? Of course I was surprised,” Valenzuela recently told ESPN.com with a laugh. “I never expected this to happen. You’ve got to be in Cooperstown. … It was a surprise.

“It’s not just for me, but for the people — the fans and my family.”

As such, Valenzuela will become the 12th Dodger to be so honored, joining the likes of Jackie Robinson (42), Sandy Koufax (32), Don Drysdale (53) and Tommy Lasorda (2) in a pregame ceremony Friday at Dodger Stadium. In fact, it’s a weekend-long fiesta for “El Toro,” with a bobblehead in Valenzuela’s likeness given to fans Saturday and a replica of his 1981 World Series championship ring passed out Sunday.

His number being retired, though, is the most impactful. Dodgers president Stan Kasten said in February the team “reviewed” its Hall of Fame members-only policy for number retirement after a “citywide call” by fans.

“What he accomplished during his playing career, not only on the field but in the community, is extraordinary,” Kasten said at the team’s FanFest. “He truly lit up the imaginations of baseball fans everywhere. It’s hard to envision a player having a greater impact on a fan base than the one Fernando has had.”


VALENZUELA GREW UP in anonymity in the Mexican village of Etchohuaquila in Sonora, where he and his five brothers slept in one bed. He spoke no English as he dominated the American pastime.

In a pre-Internet world, Valenzuela was more than an anomaly. He was, according to Hall of Fame Dodgers Spanish language announcer Jaime Jarrin, a mystery.

“His charisma was unbelievable,” said Jarrin, who served as Valenzuela’s interpreter early in his career. “The fact that he came here to the major leagues [in September 1980] after spending just a few weeks in San Antonio at Double-A — and from the beginning, he was just amazing. And the people fell in love with him. … He was only 19 years old. Little bit chubby, long hair, Yaqui Indian features. Those things really cultivated the people and they fell in love with Fernando in a matter of a few weeks.”

Answering Lasorda’s call for that emergency assignment — it was the first of Valenzuela’s six Opening Day starts with the Dodgers; only Clayton Kershaw (9), Drysdale (7) and Don Sutton (7) have more — Valenzuela twirled a 2-0 shutout at the Houston Astros and did not look back.

The cherubic lefthander won his first eight starts and, along with that late-1980 call-up, Valenzuela was 10-0 with five shutouts, eight complete games and a 0.40 earned run average in his first 18 career games. As a rookie, he started the 1981 All-Star Game, held the Dodgers afloat in a deciding Game 5 of the National League Championship Game against the Montreal Expos and beat the New York Yankees in Game 3 of the World Series en route to the Dodgers’ first title in 16 years.

“He was a younger player that was way ahead of his time, especially intellectually and as far as baseball was concerned,” said Dusty Baker, who mentored Valenzuela in Los Angeles during his rookie year. “Any man that I meet — man, woman or child — when they find out I played with the Dodgers, they want to know, ‘Oh really, were you friendly with Fernando?’ Yeah, that was my guy.”

He remains the only player to win the Cy Young and Rookie of the Year awards in the same season, while also visiting the White House … midseason, in an event to honor then-Mexican President Jose Lopez Portillo.

That Valenzuela was doing it with a screwball, a pitch not really in vogue since Carl Hubbell was dealing before World War II ended, and one Valenzuela had been taught by Dodgers right-hander Bobby Castillo less than two years earlier, was as fascinating as it was game changing.

“Babo threw it hard, so it sunk,” Valenzuela said. “I thought, What if I took some speed off it, and it dropped more like a curveball?” The results were devastating.

Yet, if his stats talked for themselves, Valenzuela’s cultural impact spoke at least two languages — and at a time it was desperately needed for the Dodgers.

When Dodger Stadium opened in Chavez Ravine in 1962, it was on the heels of a 10-year battle with residents who had lost their homes in the area after eminent domain was declared to purportedly build public housing. After those plans fell through, the Dodgers, who had moved from Brooklyn, got a sweetheart deal to build on the land.

“I had a brother-in-law who would never go to Dodger games, he could just never have anything to do with them, really, because of that,” said Dr. Felix Gutierrez, a professor of journalism emeritus at USC who focuses on racial diversity, media and the history of Latino news in the United States. “I had another brother-in-law who loved the Dodgers. He’d listen to the games right and left. So there was a mix of emotions about the Dodgers when Fernando hit.”

Valenzuela’s arrival and prominence served as a salve, of sorts, to Los Angeles Latinos in general, Mexicans and Mexican-Americans in particular, who had sworn off attending games at Dodger Stadium.

And it crossed sporting spectrums.

Across town, future Pro Football Hall of Fame coach Tom Flores, whose family moved to Central California from Mexico when he was young, was watching, especially after his Raiders relocated to Los Angeles in 1982.

“It was kinda neat,” Flores said. “Finally, there was some Mexican on the mound that they were honoring.

“I thought, ‘This guy’s a little quirky, because he had that high kick and his eyes disappeared into his forehead.’ But, boy, when that ball left his hand, it was zooming. And he had great control, and he was a competitive guy. He really was more than people realized. I admired him. He was low-key.”

In East L.A , a young boxer and his family took notice, often watching Valenzuela pitch on their tiny TV.

“He was hope, he was our way out, you know?” Oscar De La Hoya said. “If he can do it, we can do it. People like that, like Fernando, paved the way and now people like me are paving the way and it’s a trickle effect.”

De La Hoya wore a No. 34 jersey when he threw out a ceremonial first pitch at Dodger Stadium in 2016.

“That was by design,” laughed De La Hoya, who became golfing buddies with Valenzuela later in life. “He was a hero to us because we just felt so proud, that he came from Mexico, that he was one of us.

“Proud of, obviously, how he pitched and becoming a winner. He was just inspirational to us.”

Valenzuela took Mexicans and Mexican-Americans out of the shadows, even if he did not realize it at the time. Attendance jumped by an average of 7,500 for his starts at Dodger Stadium in 1981, according to the Society for American Baseball Research.

“As big a star that he was, he exemplified Mexicans coming to the United States, doing good work, knowing their job, doing their job, by his productivity, by his skills,” Gutierrez said. “We’ve always had the talent; we didn’t always have the opportunity. He was afforded the opportunity and he made the most of it.

“He stayed linked and tied to his people, to his community. We saw him as a representative of Mexicans and Latinos to the rest of L.A. — ‘Hey, look what we can do. Give us the opportunity.'”

“With my respects to Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Willie Mays, all of the major leaguers, Fernando is the one that created more new baseball followers,” Jarrin said. “People from Mexico, from Central America, from South America, they didn’t care at all about baseball, but they fell in love with the game. It was unbelievable. In those days, of course, we didn’t have the computers that we have now. Everything was through telephone calls or letters or cards — I was swamped by that — to find out something about Fernando.”

Usual staid stadiums came to life on the road.

“He had such a charisma that everywhere we went, people fell in love with him,” Jarrin said. “Going to Chicago, they were averaging 12,000 people. But when Fernando was announced, it was sold out, 31,000 people there. Same thing in New York. Same thing in St. Louis. It was magic.”

Now, the Los Angeles Times says 40% of the Dodgers fanbase is Latino, and credits Valenzuela with that uptick.

“I was a witness, man,” said Dave Stewart, who pitched in 32 games for the Dodgers during Valenzuela’s rookie season. “He blew up everywhere we went. You could expect packed stadiums and people at the ballpark early. Early. Just to see him. The media attention was just unbelievable. I had never seen anything like it before, or since, and I’ve been around the game now for 48 years.

“People talk about [Shohei] Ohtani, and Ohtani is a great attraction, but I don’t believe the madness is as crazy as it was for Fernando. … Fernando was [playing] a single day, and Ohtani is every day. But in a single day, I’ve never seen such madness in my life.”


FROM 1983 to 1987, Valenzuela averaged 262 innings pitched and 13 complete games for the Dodgers. He had a streak of 255 consecutive starts, which ended August 1988. He had 20 complete games in 1986, when he won a league-high 21 games and had a 3.14 ERA and finished second in the NL Cy Young voting. He had 96 complete games in his first seven seasons. (For comparison, Justin Verlander, last year’s AL Cy Young winner, has 26 complete games … in 18 years.)

“Termino lo que empiezo,” Valenzuela was fond of saying — I finish what I start.

One of the more memorable came June 29, 1990. A few hours after watching his old teammate Stewart throw a no-hitter for the Oakland A’s, Valenzuela slyly predicted another no-no might be witnessed that night. Sure enough, he went out and authored his own.

“This is the honest to God truth,” Stewart said softly. “What a great moment in baseball and in baseball history — if I have to share that moment, who better to share the moment with?”

Valenzuela left the Dodgers the next year and bounced around the league, playing one season each for the Angels, Baltimore Orioles and Philadelphia Phillies and two for the San Diego Padres. His last MLB game came in 1997, but he continued pitching occasionally in Mexico up until 2006.

Through all those years, while capturing the imagination of American baseball fans, he also won the hearts and minds of his Mexican countrymen, especially those of ballplayers with dreams of pitching in las grandes ligas. In 2021, Julio Urías, another Dodgers lefty with an arsenal of filthy pitches, joined him as one of just four Mexican-born pitchers to win at least 20 games in a season. But unlike Valenzuela, Urías had a very specific Mexican role model to look up to as he made his way to L.A.

“I can’t ask for more, being Mexican and wearing the same jersey as he did,” Urías said in Spanish. “Obviously, Fernando, for us as Mexicans, is an inspiration, the biggest star that Mexican baseball has given us.

“We have to give him the respect he has earned with everything he did in his time and everything he keeps doing. To get to the point where your number is retired, that’s something very big, especially being Mexican, facing all the adversities and it being more difficult for him in his time.

“I’m very happy and fortunate to be able to know him, and share and enjoy such a big day with his number retirement.”

While Valenzuela wore No. 34 in many of those big league stops after his days in Los Angeles, no player has worn it for the Dodgers since he was released near the end of spring training in 1991. Mitch Poole, the team’s visiting clubhouse manager who has been with the Dodgers since becoming a bat boy in 1985, made it his mission to keep No. 34 out of circulation.

“The Mexican community is so huge here in L.A,” said Poole, who has also served as the Dodgers’ assistant clubhouse and head equipment managers. “I wasn’t there yet in ’81 but I came to see the outpouring of emotions from the Mexican-American community, too. So I said, as long as I’m here, I will not release that number. As a thank you to him.”

It was an unwritten policy honored by clubbies and players alike. The closest anyone came to requesting the number was when Manny Ramirez came to Los Angeles in 2008. He wanted it as a tribute to his old Boston Red Sox teammate David Ortiz. After Poole suggested No. 28, to honor fellow Dominican and Dodgers star Pedro Guerrero, Ramirez settled for No. 99.

(Though Valenzuela has never spoken on why he chose the number, there is a conspiracy theory that wearing the digits was free publicity for Channel 34 in Los Angeles, a Spanish-language station.)

“Officially, ’34’ was not retired, but in our hearts, it was retired,” Poole said. “I take pride in the fact that we didn’t release that number. It’s important to me that the Mexican community got something out of it. And he deserves it. He did so many things that brought attention to the community.”

“I think that they took too long to recognize Fernando and to retire his number,” Jarrin said. “It’s something that he really, really deserves, and the community is very, very aware of that, and they are very pleased, very happy. There’s no question about it.”

It has been a long road from the dusty ball fields of Etchohuaquila to the emerald green of Chavez Ravine. Valenzuela returned to the Dodgers in 2004, joining Jarrin in the broadcast booth. Though Jarrin retired in 2022, Valenzuela remains today.

Through it all, Valenzuela, who became an American citizen in 2015, owns a Mexican League team in Cancun and has a stadium named after him in Hermosillo, has rarely taken the time to stop and enjoy the sights. But Friday, when he looks up and sees his No. 34 in the Dodger Stadium rafters, he mused, maybe then it will hit him.

“I don’t like to talk about myself but if what I did helped people, I’m happy, yeah,” Valenzuela said. “It’s great. If a player from Mexico coming up says they have more chance, more opportunity, a good chance to do something in the big leagues, if I did something that helped a little bit, I’m great. You can have the talent and believe in yourself, but you have to take advantage of the opportunity. That makes me feel fine. Feel good.”

And that’s not surprising at all.

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Amid angry fans, CEO says Pirates won’t be sold

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Amid angry fans, CEO says Pirates won't be sold

Pittsburgh Pirates CEO Travis Williams said the organization is committed to winning but declared to frustrated fans that owner Bob Nutting will not sell the team.

Williams addressed fans’ frustration over Nutting’s ownership Saturday during a Q&A session at the Pirates’ annual offseason fan fest.

As Williams was responding to the first question, one fan in attendance shouted, “Sell the team,” prompting some applause from the audience. At that point, several fans started chanting, “Sell the team!”

Greg Brown, the Pirates’ longtime television play-by-play announcer, asked the fans to stop the chant and to “be respectful.” Another fan then asked Williams, who was seated next to Pirates general manager Ben Cherington and manager Derek Shelton, why Nutting was not in attendance.

“We know, at the end of the day, this is all passion that has turned into frustration relative to winning,” Williams said, according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. “I think the points that you are making in terms of ‘Where is Bob?’ That’s why he has us here, we’re here to execute and make sure that we win.”

Williams added that Nutting, who has owned the Pirates since 2018, was scheduled to attend the event and interact with fans at some point later Saturday.

“To answer your immediate question that you said earlier, Bob is not going to sell the team,” Williams said. “He cares about Pittsburgh, he cares about winning, he cares about us putting a winning product on the field, and we’re working towards that every day.”

Nutting has been widely criticized by fans and local media in recent years as the Pirates have toiled at or near the bottom of the National League Central standings.

The Pirates went 76-86 last season en route to their fourth last-place finish in the past six seasons. They have not finished with a winning record since 2018, have not reached the playoffs since 2015 and have just three postseason appearances since 1992.

“We know that there is frustration, frustration because we are not winning, with the expectations of winning,” Williams said. “At the end of the day, that’s not due to lack of commitment to want to win.”

Spurred by the arrival of ace pitcher Paul Skenes, the reigning NL Rookie of the Year, the Pirates were 55-52 at the trade deadline last season before a 21-34 free fall through the final two months dropped Pittsburgh to last in the NL Central.

“We can just look at last year,” Williams said. “It was a big positive going through the middle of the season, we were going into August two games above .500, but unfortunately we had a tough run in August and that tough run in August took us out of the hunt for the wild card. … From myself to Ben to Derek to lots of other people that are here today and throughout the entire organization, but that’s not for a lack of commitment or desire to win whatsoever.

“That’s from the top all the way down to the bottom of the organization. We are absolutely committed to win; what we need to do is find a way to win.”

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Dodgers land closer Scott for $72M, sources say

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Dodgers land closer Scott for M, sources say

The Los Angeles Dodgers have added left-hander Tanner Scott, arguably the best relief pitcher on the free agent market, agreeing to terms on a four-year, $72 million contract, sources told ESPN’s Jeff Passan on Sunday.

The addition of Scott likely puts the finishing touches on another busy offseason for the reigning World Series champions.

Before Scott, the Dodgers signed Blake Snell, one of the best starters on the market; brought back Teoscar Hernandez and signed Michael Conforto, solidifying the corner outfield; signed Korean second baseman Hyeseong Kim, freeing up a trade of Gavin Lux; extended Tommy Edman; and, in one of the winter’s biggest developments, lured phenom Roki Sasaki.

Now Scott, 30, will slot into the back end of a dominant bullpen alongside Michael Kopech, Blake Treinen, Evan Phillips, Alex Vesia and Ryan Brasier, among other high-leverage arms.

Originally a sixth-round pick in 2014, Scott has established himself as a dominant force over these past two years. With the Miami Marlins and San Diego Padres from 2023 to 2024, Scott posted a 2.04 ERA in 146 appearances, striking out 188 batters and issuing 60 walks in 150 innings.

With Scott, the Dodgers’ luxury tax payroll is estimated to be somewhere in the neighborhood of $375 million, about $70 million more than that of the second-place Philadelphia Phillies.

The New York Yankees are the only other team with a competitive balance tax payroll projected to be over $300 million.

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‘Past and present’: Traditional powers Ohio State and Notre Dame have evolved

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'Past and present': Traditional powers Ohio State and Notre Dame have evolved

ATLANTA — “Think traditionally, but without traditional thinking.”

Those were the words of Ross Bjork, the still-new Ohio State athletic director during the Saturday morning media day ahead of Monday night’s College Football Playoff National Championship game. The question was about the balanced approach taken by his football program, and also by the opponent, Notre Dame. The Buckeyes and Fighting Irish inarguably rank among the most tradition-rich teams in the 155-year history of college football. Yet, here they are, after a combined 271 seasons, the second- and fourth-winningest programs of all time, having steered their way to the final game of this season by embracing modernized approaches to the sport while honoring the history that is as much a part of their DNA as helmets and shoulder pads.

Maintaining the shine on those silver and gold helmets by piling up silver and gold in the form of NIL money.

“We want to work at these places because of what they are and what they have been and the success they’ve enjoyed,” Bjork said. “But we have also been charged with ensuring that’s what they continue to be.”

Bjork said that just as the Buckeyes were ending their media day session and the players who earned a spot in the title game, the ones who cost $20 million to assemble, according to Bjork, filed in around him and headed for the team bus. His mantra about respecting the past while moving toward the future was uttered as 45-year-old head coach Ryan Day was holding court at a podium just over his boss’s shoulder. Day’s big-game failures lit the spark needed to raise those millions to sign those players who are now in Atlanta needing only one more win to earn Ohio State’s first national title in a decade.

When the Buckeyes exited the room, their seats were filled by their counterparts at Notre Dame, whose roster includes 10 additions via transfer, once a taboo subject in South Bend, Indiana. The players opted to play in northern Indiana partly due to the just-established coffers of name, image and likeness money. Those new arrivals included the quarterback from Duke who led the Irish downfield late against Penn State in the CFP semifinals, setting up the transfer kicker from South Carolina who kicked the game-winning field goal. Now, Notre Dame football is on the cusp of its first national title since 1988, when cell phones were still carried in shoulder bags. As the Irish players took their places, coach Marcus Freeman, the human energy shot, immediately and unknowingly parroted Bjork.

“Our everyday walk is spent with one foot firmly planted in our past, but that other foot is always stepping in our future.”

Is that easy, Coach?

“No. But it’s also not a burden. It’s a privilege. Once you understand that, it’s worth it. And what makes it worth it is … well …”

With a smile, the 39-year-old coach — a former All-Big Ten Ohio State defender — swept his hand broadly, toward Mercedes-Benz Stadium across the street, toward the gold-wearing Notre Dame faithful in the nearby Playoff Fan Central craning their necks to see their Irish, and toward the cylindrical gold CFP championship trophy, sitting atop a podium in Freeman’s sightline.

“You win football games by being smart and working hard, that’s no secret,” Freeman’s quarterback, Riley Leonard, said. “But you also have to evolve. I think that in college football now, as much as it keeps changing, programs and universities have to change with it. Your choice is to either do that or get left behind.”

But evolution is also a choice. The dinosaurs didn’t have to walk into the tar pits. And college football programs — even old-timers such as Ohio State and Notre Dame — don’t have to walk into the quicksand of mediocrity, led there by the blinders of obligation to keep on keeping on the same way that Knute Rockne and Woody Hayes did.

“The greatest challenge isn’t changing the minds of the people inside the football building. They are living it. They are going to do whatever it takes,” former Notre Dame QB Brady Quinn, now a college football analyst for Fox, said in December as his alma mater began its CFP run. “It’s making the people who support the program understand what needs to be done. Making them understand that the way it always worked, the way their favorite teams were built, is not how it works now. And then explaining that their support that might have always just been rooting for the team, even buying season tickets, that support needs to be backed monetarily. That makes some people uncomfortable, but it is also the reality. And it pays off. Literally.”

Freeman’s predecessor at Notre Dame, Brian Kelly, has come under fire from those who love the Irish, and some of that is warranted. But criticism that he didn’t understand the modern business model like Freeman does isn’t entirely accurate. That model has changed dramatically since Kelly’s sudden departure for LSU three years ago. Even while he still had the job, finishing his 12 seasons only 13 wins shy of Rockne’s record 105, Kelly openly described the daily tug-of-war between pulling Notre Dame into the current times while also wrestling with the longtime program backers who resisted change, aka “the Gold Seats.”

For example, replacing the analog clock and scoreboards that had long sat atop the end zone edges of Notre Dame Stadium became a battle as Kelly hoped to add videoboards. After a years-long debate, the compromise was to add the TV screens, but keep them to a modest size, similar to the old scoreboards, and immediately prior to and after games, the displays on those screens were to be changed to digital images of the old clock and scoreboard.

“Those are the challenges that you face at a university like Notre Dame that I don’t believe you do anywhere else, and I certainly coached at a lot of other places,” said Lou Holtz, chuckling when discussing his 11 years in South Bend, winning that 1988 national championship and finishing right behind Rockne with 100 victories. “There is no question that it took cooperation from the administration, after some hard conversations about where we wanted Notre Dame football to be in the future, for me to get a player like Tony Rice [QB on the ’88 team] into school. I went to [then-president] Father Joyce and appealed to him directly. But I was told he would be admitted only if he proved himself academically for a year, to go nowhere near a football game. And guess what? Tony Rice has his degree from Notre Dame and to this day, is one the most beloved players in the history of the program. We found his place, and we did it within the framework of what one might call the Notre Dame Way.”

It was with that same mentality that Freeman went about selling the idea of bringing in transfers — a practice rarely entertained by a school understandably proud of its academic reputation — as something that could still fit into the parameters of the Notre Dame Way. The 2024 roster additions were carefully selected. They were established stars but also largely graduate transfers already with college degrees. Two players were required to wait until summer to enroll after their degrees were completed, and in the meantime, were relegated to spring practice observers.

Leonard is an undergrad, but no one questions Duke’s academic credentials. He is also a Notre Dame legacy, the great-grandson of James Curran, a 1940 Irish graduate who played football under head coach Elmer Layden, one of the fabled Four Horsemen.

“The transfer portal has really helped us because it’s allowed us to address specific needs, but it’s also helped us distinguish ourselves as a program in the sense that our kids are still picking Notre Dame for a host of reasons, not just NIL,” said Jack Swarbrick, who served as Notre Dame’s AD from 2008 to 2024 and made the decision to promote Freeman after Kelly’s departure. “No one would come to Notre Dame just for NIL. It’s too hard. If all you worried about is the compensation, you’ll go get it somewhere else. … So, for all the schools that are just recruiting with an emphasis on compensation, we’re now even more distinct than we used to be, and I think that’s helped.

“We have to be very careful in the transfer portal. It’s why nine out of 10 are grad students. It’s just really hard to get undergraduate transfers into Notre Dame.”

As Freeman bolstered his roster in the most gold-helmeted fashion, many who had worn those helmets paved the NIL road. That effort was anchored by a collective kick-started by Quinn, with a stated mission of proving to those Gold Seats who feared the future that their shared alma mater could keep up with the times and still do it on their terms. Friends of the University of Notre Dame — FUND — paid athletes for charity work. Now that the NIL structure has changed again, FUND has been closed, handing over the reins to for-profit collective Rally, designed to better handle the next imminent sea change — revenue sharing.

“It is very important to all of us to do everything we can to honor the hard work and investment that so many people are putting in us, especially the former players,” said sophomore defensive back Christian Grey, who hauled in an interception that set up that final CFP semifinal-winning drive for Leonard & Co. “To me, that’s also learning the history of Notre Dame football. My high school English teacher [in St. Louis] was a Notre Dame grad and he taught me that as soon as I committed. He gave me a Four Horseman poster and it’s been on my wall ever since. It reminds me of what we are playing for. Past and present.”

Meanwhile, it was Ryan Day who spurred the NIL and roster revolution in Columbus. Bjork took over as Ohio State AD one year ago, mere days after Buckeyes archenemy Michigan had won its first national championship in 26 years — this after beating OSU for the third straight season. Bjork hadn’t even unpacked his office when Day approached him with a detailed plan on how to catch up to Michigan. Together, they drummed up financial support, having to point only to the Wolverines’ title run as the reason to start cutting checks. Among those listening were former players.

“We had started a collective, the Foundation, in 2023 because we saw what was happening at places like Texas, Alabama, Michigan, you name it, and we knew our school was falling behind,” said Cardale Jones, quarterback on Ohio State’s 2014 team that won the inaugural CFP title. “Sadly, we didn’t get a lot of support from the school itself. But once that commitment started coming from the inside, you see what happened.”

What happened was that $20 million shopping spree that led to a stunning influx and retention of talent, the most impressive offseason this side of the Philadelphia Eagles. And just when it appeared that de facto Avengers assemblage might not pay off — see: two regular-season losses, including a fourth straight to Michigan — the team that entered the newly expanded 12-team CFP as an at-large invitee has been a Buckeye Buzzsaw. A return on investment.

So is there a long-term place in a universe of perpetual college football change for stuff like gold helmets and Buckeye helmet stickers? The House that Knute Rockne Built and the Horseshoe? “Wake Up the Echoes” and the script Ohio? Stories of Paul Hornung and Hopalong Cassady, or George Gipp and Archie Griffin? Is this fast-forward sport of checks and cascading spreadsheets a place where lighting candles in the Grotto and chanting “O-H! I-O!” is anything other than outdated?

Day and Freeman not only believe all of that can coexist within the framework of the modern college football world, but the two head coaches who will shake hands at midfield Monday night — one a champion — believe that all of the above is the key to survival. The grounding rod. The only way to properly digest — or enjoy — what this world has become.

It’s why Freeman reinstated the lost tradition of Notre Dame football players attending Mass as part of their pregame routine; he has converted to Catholicism. It’s why Day got misty-eyed Saturday morning when asked about Ohio State’s Friday night golf course dinners, with the homemade pecan rolls that became a staple of the Woody Hayes experience, and leading his team into pregame Skull Session pep rallies.

“We are in this to win games and championships, but also to do right by our players and by those who have spent their lives dedicated to the idea of Notre Dame football,” Freeman said. “You lose sight of any part of that, and you’ve lost sight of what this all means.”

Added Day: “As long as they have been playing college football, the greatest programs have stayed great by adapting to the times they are in. You evolve your defense. You evolve your offense. So you also have to evolve how you run your program. But you can’t run away from who you are. You cannot let that happen. Ever. That’s when you lose a lot more than some football games.”

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