The 1977 Notre Dame Fighting Irish football team represented the University of Notre Dame during the 1977 college football season. The Irish, coached by Dan Devine, ended the season with 11 wins and one loss, winning the national championship. The Fighting Irish won the title by defeating the previously unbeaten and No. 1 ranked Texas Longhorns in the Cotton Bowl Classic in Dallas, Texas by a score of a 38-10. The 1977 squad became the tenth Irish team to win the national title, led by the quarterback play of junior Joe Montana and defensive play of '76 Outland Trophy winner Ross Browner.
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“You can’t be a Real Country unless you have A BEER and an airline—it helps if you have some kind of a football team, or some nuclear weapons, but at the very least you need a BEER.”
—Frank Zappa (1940–1993)
“Se bella piu satore, je notre so catore,
Je notre qui cavore, je la qu’, la qui, la quai!
Le spinash or le busho, cigaretto toto bello,
Ce rakish spagoletto, si la tu, la tu, la tua!
Senora pelefima, voulez-vous le taximeter,
La zionta sur le tita, tu le tu le tu le wa!”
—Charlie Chaplin (1889–1977)
“Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.”
—Unknown. Tom o’ Bedlam’s Song (l. 11–12)
“So that’s our new flag. The thing we’ve been fighting for—thirteen stripes for the colonies and thirteen stars in a circle for the union.”
—Lamar Trotti (1898–1952)
“Concurring hands divide
flax for damask
that when bleached by Irish weather
has the silvered chamois-leather
water-tightness of a
skin.”
—Marianne Moore (1887–1972)
“...I’m not money hungry.... People who are rich want to be richer, but what’s the difference? You can’t take it with you. The toys get different, that’s all. The rich guys buy a football team, the poor guys buy a football. It’s all relative.”
—Martina Navratilova (b. 1956)
“I also heard the whooping of the ice in the pond, my great bed-fellow in that part of Concord, as if it were restless in its bed and would fain turn over, were troubled with flatulency and bad dreams; or I was waked by the cracking of the ground by the frost, as if some one had driven a team against my door, and in the morning would find a crack in the earth a quarter of a mile long and a third of an inch wide.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)