The quintessential Marv Goux moment for this series would happen in South Bend the Friday before the game in Notre Dame Stadium because that was where, as he told his USC players, "they got me." On a clip where he'd locate the exact spot on the field, he drew the entire USC team around him and prepared them for what was to come and what he expected from them.
Coach Goux would gather us around him, telling us a story about a young player at USC who, although undersized and outweighed, started at center and middle linebacker. This player was the pinnacle of desire and hard work, often leading by example and inspirational speeches during a game. His love of the game was unmatched.
As he spoke, he wandered around the field, always starting down by the end zone and slowly working his way out toward mid-field as he stayed in the middle of all the players. During much of the story, he would stare down at the field, kickin' and pawing at it with the bottoms of his shoes. From the first time I witnessed this ritual, it seemed that he was actually looking for something. I was wrong. He wasn't looking for something. He was looking for a spot. As he continued the story, this absolute pillar of strength and determination, the cornerstone of the entire football program at USC, a man who had been at McKay's side every step of the way, the defensive line coach, started breaking down.
I remember elbowing the guy next to me and asking, "What's happening to him?" A few years ahead of me, the player turned with tears streaming down his face, saying, "Shut up." Coach Goux started moving around the field, faster and faster, as we struggled to stay with him. In one lightning bolt of gut-wrenching passion, he screamed out, "Where is it, where is it?" as he crisply walked around, sometimes in circles like he was getting close, all the time looking down at the Notre Dame Stadium's grass. Tears flowing like a river.
Then, in a split second, in a moment of recognition, this man exploded into a sick combination of Pain, Regret, Fear, Determination, Desire, Retribution, Passion, and Sorrow. Crying in an uncontrollable manner, bawling, and weeping. Coach Goux then snaps his head up to expose himself to us. So that we would always know. So that we will never forget. The face I looked into was unrecognizable to me. I didn't yet know what IT was. Coach Goux was possessed with all that his life had been and all that his life was at that point. Like a big cat, he spun around and ensured every player made direct eye contact with him.
"This is the spot," he screamed, looking down again. "This is the spot." Looking up at us, he said, "This is where they got me," his voice trailing off. Instinctively, we all started backing up, until Coach Goux stood alone, looking down at the grass and pawing at it with his shoes. I realized that the player in the story was him. For what seemed like minutes, you could hear a pin drop, as we watched this man deal with the moment that ended his dreams as a player, forever.
When he looked up again, the meaning, the feeling that makes this football program what it is. That thing that makes USC football special, whatever it is, shined like a lighthouse beam in the Indiana night from his eyes.
"I wouldn't trade my time as a USC football player for anything." Then he said while looking down and getting more and more animated, "I was clipped from behind right here," as he pointed at the grass. "Got me in my lower back and hip," he growled.
I don't recall seeing anger in a man's eyes, like his at that moment. "Get in here," he demanded as the entire team closed on him. "Tighter, tighter, until you can't breathe. Now listen to me. Notre Dame ended my dream as a player. They ended it right here, where we stand together. I'll never be able to forget it or change it. I can, however, bring a football team here every other year with the best players the world has ever seen. A football team that is a great big family. A team who loves each other will go to war for each other. A team that doesn't care about the last play. A team full of men whose only, living, breathing desire is to be allowed by God one more opportunity to hit a Notre Dame football player as hard as humanly possible."
The tears were flowing, and we were mesmerized by the entire experience. The team's emotions were on the table for Coach Goux to mold. He paused, so as to look you in the eye. Then he looked down and started to shake his head back and forth. Still looking down, he slowly said with a deep voice, "I can't hit them anymore, but God knows I want to. More than awakening tomorrow morning, I want another shot at a Notre Dame football player. Just so I could send the clear message that the University of Southern California's football team was in town and that today will end in pain for you, your team, your fans, and your school. That USC was here, and we're taking everything you have."
His head rose up. "There won't be anything left when we're done here," he screamed. At this point, the entire team exploded together.
"They got me, but they're not going to get you. They ****ed me right here, but they're not going to **** you. Not tomorrow, not tomorrow. Tomorrow, we wake as one. Tomorrow, we take the body. Tomorrow, every man on this team will attack his opponent in a way that has never been seen before. Tomorrow, we are relentless. Tomorrow, we play the most powerful brand of football ever seen. Tomorrow, we are devastating, play after play, every man until the final whistle. We won't even look up at the scoreboard during the game. If I see any man look up at the scoreboard, I'll kill him. **** the score, we came here for more than that. Tomorrow, we take a program's heart and tear it to pieces with our bare hands. Tomorrow, we play with Pride and Dignity. Every play, every player on the field for Notre Dame gets knocked to the ground. All of them, every play. Then, you reach down to help them back up. That's who we are. Tomorrow, we play like MEN. Tomorrow, we play like TROJANS.
Coach Goux would gather us around him, telling us a story about a young player at USC who, although undersized and outweighed, started at center and middle linebacker. This player was the pinnacle of desire and hard work, often leading by example and inspirational speeches during a game. His love of the game was unmatched.
As he spoke, he wandered around the field, always starting down by the end zone and slowly working his way out toward mid-field as he stayed in the middle of all the players. During much of the story, he would stare down at the field, kickin' and pawing at it with the bottoms of his shoes. From the first time I witnessed this ritual, it seemed that he was actually looking for something. I was wrong. He wasn't looking for something. He was looking for a spot. As he continued the story, this absolute pillar of strength and determination, the cornerstone of the entire football program at USC, a man who had been at McKay's side every step of the way, the defensive line coach, started breaking down.
I remember elbowing the guy next to me and asking, "What's happening to him?" A few years ahead of me, the player turned with tears streaming down his face, saying, "Shut up." Coach Goux started moving around the field, faster and faster, as we struggled to stay with him. In one lightning bolt of gut-wrenching passion, he screamed out, "Where is it, where is it?" as he crisply walked around, sometimes in circles like he was getting close, all the time looking down at the Notre Dame Stadium's grass. Tears flowing like a river.
Then, in a split second, in a moment of recognition, this man exploded into a sick combination of Pain, Regret, Fear, Determination, Desire, Retribution, Passion, and Sorrow. Crying in an uncontrollable manner, bawling, and weeping. Coach Goux then snaps his head up to expose himself to us. So that we would always know. So that we will never forget. The face I looked into was unrecognizable to me. I didn't yet know what IT was. Coach Goux was possessed with all that his life had been and all that his life was at that point. Like a big cat, he spun around and ensured every player made direct eye contact with him.
"This is the spot," he screamed, looking down again. "This is the spot." Looking up at us, he said, "This is where they got me," his voice trailing off. Instinctively, we all started backing up, until Coach Goux stood alone, looking down at the grass and pawing at it with his shoes. I realized that the player in the story was him. For what seemed like minutes, you could hear a pin drop, as we watched this man deal with the moment that ended his dreams as a player, forever.
When he looked up again, the meaning, the feeling that makes this football program what it is. That thing that makes USC football special, whatever it is, shined like a lighthouse beam in the Indiana night from his eyes.
"I wouldn't trade my time as a USC football player for anything." Then he said while looking down and getting more and more animated, "I was clipped from behind right here," as he pointed at the grass. "Got me in my lower back and hip," he growled.
I don't recall seeing anger in a man's eyes, like his at that moment. "Get in here," he demanded as the entire team closed on him. "Tighter, tighter, until you can't breathe. Now listen to me. Notre Dame ended my dream as a player. They ended it right here, where we stand together. I'll never be able to forget it or change it. I can, however, bring a football team here every other year with the best players the world has ever seen. A football team that is a great big family. A team who loves each other will go to war for each other. A team that doesn't care about the last play. A team full of men whose only, living, breathing desire is to be allowed by God one more opportunity to hit a Notre Dame football player as hard as humanly possible."
The tears were flowing, and we were mesmerized by the entire experience. The team's emotions were on the table for Coach Goux to mold. He paused, so as to look you in the eye. Then he looked down and started to shake his head back and forth. Still looking down, he slowly said with a deep voice, "I can't hit them anymore, but God knows I want to. More than awakening tomorrow morning, I want another shot at a Notre Dame football player. Just so I could send the clear message that the University of Southern California's football team was in town and that today will end in pain for you, your team, your fans, and your school. That USC was here, and we're taking everything you have."
His head rose up. "There won't be anything left when we're done here," he screamed. At this point, the entire team exploded together.
"They got me, but they're not going to get you. They ****ed me right here, but they're not going to **** you. Not tomorrow, not tomorrow. Tomorrow, we wake as one. Tomorrow, we take the body. Tomorrow, every man on this team will attack his opponent in a way that has never been seen before. Tomorrow, we are relentless. Tomorrow, we play the most powerful brand of football ever seen. Tomorrow, we are devastating, play after play, every man until the final whistle. We won't even look up at the scoreboard during the game. If I see any man look up at the scoreboard, I'll kill him. **** the score, we came here for more than that. Tomorrow, we take a program's heart and tear it to pieces with our bare hands. Tomorrow, we play with Pride and Dignity. Every play, every player on the field for Notre Dame gets knocked to the ground. All of them, every play. Then, you reach down to help them back up. That's who we are. Tomorrow, we play like MEN. Tomorrow, we play like TROJANS.
