Barely three months and no games won or lost after Notre Dame football captured its 11th national championship after going 12-0 in 1988, former Irish assistant coach Pete Cordelli feared for his job.
Feared that he had lost it.
Irish football, with Tony Rice at quarterback and Chris Zorich at nose tackle, was in capable hands. Confident hands. Winning hands. Still, head coach Lou Holtz would find a way to keep everyone on staff on the edge. Or the ledge.
One spring day, it happened.
It was April 1989, and the Irish were maybe five workouts deep into spring practice, or what counted as a spring practice. Coming off that ‘88 season, and with a returning core of contributors, Notre Dame didn’t face nearly as many position questions/concerns as it did in previous springs. Holtz burst into an offensive staff meeting in the football offices on the first floor of the Joyce Center and laid down a demand right there in the middle of a film review session. For the next practice, the following Monday, he wanted Rice to run a particular play.
One problem. That play wasn’t in the playbook. The Irish had never run that play. They had never practiced that play. What were the checks for the quarterback? What was the blocking scheme? What were the options in case the defense showed a look that might demolish it?
Holtz offered no answer. The only one was … just run it.
The offense ran it three straight times in practice. It was blown up three straight times. The next day, again during an offensive staff film review, Holtz called out his assistant coaches.
“He comes in and says, ‘What the (heck) are you teaching?’” Cordelli said last week from his home outside Memphis, Tennessee. “He’s yelling, ‘I have no idea why I hired you! I have the stupidest staff in America! I can’t believe I’ve given you this responsibility!
Then …
“You’re all fired.”
Holtz fastballed the remote control at the television and stormed out. Across the hall, the defensive coaches heard the Holtz tornado and wondered if they were next. Holtz retreated to his office, which, if history was any sign, he’d stew for 10 minutes before returning.
Only this time, he didn’t return. He phoned Notre Dame golf coach George Thomas, the golf professional at Elcona Country Club in Bristol, Indiana, and headed toward Elkhart County
