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Burns Harbor, Ind. — When Paul Hornung was a prepubescent, wiry-but-athletic kid on the hardscrabble streets of Louisville, like a lot of Catholic grade school kids growing up saying "Yesstr," to the stern-faced nun who chastised him for forgetting his assignment when called on in class. (possibly, he might tell you, because of a few too many extra minutes honing his football talents.)
But there was little doubt when he ripped through the competition for Flaget High School that his future lay 250 miles north, where seemingly every Catholic youth with recognizable football skills yearned to add a chapter or two to college football's greatest story.
Notre Dame.
From the pads-on-pads Frank Leahy sweatfests of fall, 1953, where varsity-ineligible freshmen players sat with their classmates in the freshman class section 31 on the 20-yard line to becoming the only player on a losing (2-8) team to win the Heisman Trophy in 1956, even through his years with the Vince Lombardi Green Bay Packers, Paul Hornung was as identifiable with Notre Dame football as
the "Gipper," Knute, the "Fair-Catch Corby" statue and the "Victory March."
After he retired from the Pack in the late '60s, following five National Football League championships, he'd rekindled his relationship with Irish football full time and was resident wag, press box and V.I.P. greeter, raconteur and color commentator.
He was — he is — a walking tome of Notre Dame lore. But because of one verbal mis-speak with Detroit station WXYT-1270 March 30, a 51-year association vanishes into thin air.
And many Irish hearts everywhere are in mourning.
In trying to address the volatile issue of how best to approach the recruitment of the most talented football players, Paul Hornung unwittingly threw in a racial adjective — ..."to recruit the black athletes..." In the space of 2 seconds, his visible official relationship with the University of Notre Dame went pffffttt.
In this era of human sensitivity dials tuned higher than O'Hare Airport bag-check monitor during a high-security alert, Paul Hornung gets victimized by yet another overreactive display of political correctness.
"I misspoke," he told the Chicago Tribune two days later. "I was trying to say Notre Dame could give some kids a bit of a break so it can compete with the Michigans or Miamis."
He is 68. He has committed the vast majority of a lifetime in an unbridled love affair with the University of Notre Dame, which returns it with a slap in the face.
According to the South Bend Tribune, both the university and Westwood One, where Hornung played a major role with play-by-play broadcaster Tony Roberts and color man and fellow former Irish running back Allen Pinkett, have been a study in silence.
The tragic irony here is this: Paul Hornung befriended more than a few of Notre Dame's African-American varsity athletes.
Those who know Indiana, where Klu Klux Klan cells existed nearly within view of the Golden Dome, would not be surprised to know that in the pre-Civil Rights South Bend structure, there were still numerous places where blacks could not be served.
One downtown eatery refused to serve varsity basketball standout Tom Hawkins, who was a year behind Hornung and the guy they called "Golden Boy" led an Irish student boycott.
Fast forward to the conversation Hornung had with South Bend Tribune writer Terrance Harris. You don't need a master's in psychology to pick up the sadness in Hornung's voice.
"I'm not going to sit back and let Notre Dame put the blame on somebody else," Hornung told Harris. "It's not going to be Westwood One (which doesn't want Hornung to return). It's going to be Notre Dame.
"The reason I'm not going to be on the air for my last year is because Notre Dame doesn't want me there."
Somewhere, would it take much imagination to see a tear run down the cheek of the Lady atop the Dome?
Notre Dame, Catholic institution. Forgiveness, a Catholic cornerstone. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Supposedly some influential people, some of color, suggested strongly that the Irish athletic department and Westwood One cut bait with Hornung.
"What the university's position is is only a part of it," Assistant Athletic Director/Communications John Heisler told Harris. "We don't control the talent on broadcasting. Westwood One determines that."
And so it goes. Sad. Never had to happen. An on-air mea culpa, an understanding glad hand from a couple of offended souls forgiving a singular faux pas, and let Paul Hornung take one final lap around his beloved alma mater.
But noooooo...not in politically correct America, 2004.
Deliver us from evil.
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