GEORGE GIPP, the
best and most mythical of all Knute Rockne's heroes, was not recruited to play
football at Notre Dame. Gipp came from the tough Keweenaw Peninsula of northern
Michigan at age 21 on a baseball scholarship. There are conflicting accounts as
to how Rockne and Gipp linked up. According to one, while Gipp was practicing
baseball one day a football sailed over a fence and hit him on the head. The
annoyed Gipp booted it back over the fence into a group of players working out
under Rockne. "Who kicked that?" Rockne allegedly cried, and when he
got the answer, one of the great partnerships between coach and player was
born.
The account in
Rockne's 1931 autobiography is more logical. Rockne wrote that on an autumn day
in 1916 he came upon Gipp in street clothes drop-kicking a football with
another lad. Impressed by the distance and accuracy of Gipp's kicks, Rockne
asked him to come out for the frosh team.
Gipp was an
extraordinarily gifted athlete who was also adept at poker, pool and burning
the candle at both ends. He had little interest in press reviews or money. It
was winning and the brash gambles winning requires that he fancied. He was an
excellent kicker, passer, runner and secondary defender. He was good at both
ends of the basketball court. In baseball he was a sort of long-ball Ty
Cobb.
For all his gifts,
at Calumet High in Michigan, Gipp had been a truant, athletically as well as
academically, and at Notre Dame his behavior was hardly better. In mid-October
1917, when Gipp, a sophomore aspirant for the varsity, turned up on campus,
classes had been under way for five weeks and the football team had already
played two games. Still, Gipp served nobly in a loss to Nebraska and in
victories over South Dakota and Army. On his first carry in the sixth game of
the season, he struck a post out-of-bounds and broke his right leg. After a
brief return to school in November, he disappeared until the following fall. He
spent most of the next academic year on campus, but it seems left without
taking his exams.
Despite his gypsy
ways, on Dec. 14, 1919, left halfback George Gipp was elected captain of the
1920 Notre Dame team. Three months later he lost his captaincy--either, as
Rockne wrote in his autobiography, for cutting too many classes or, as other
accounts had it, for being seen at an off-limits nightspot. Either way, Gipp
was readmitted and the next fall actually showed up on Sept. 29, three days
before the first football game.
In 1920 Gipp had
dislocated his left shoulder in Notre Dame's stirring 13-10 win over Indiana.
On a blustery day the following week, while helping Grover Malone, a former
teammate, coach high schoolers, he caught cold. Despite the ailments, Gipp
traveled with the team to Evanston to meet Northwestern. Even with Gipp
sidelined, Notre Dame was leading comfortably by the end of the third quarter.
But the alumni association had billed the game as "George Gipp Day,"
and the crowd was clamoring for Gipp. Rockne relented in the fourth quarter and
put in his ailing hero.
It was Gipp's last
scene, and a great one. On his first series he passed 35 yards to right end
Eddie Anderson for a touchdown. On the next possession he set an
intercollegiate passing record for distance, throwing 55 yards to halfback Norm
Barry for another score.
By the next
Saturday, when Notre Dame finished another perfect season, beating Michigan
State 25-0, Gipp was hospitalized with a streptococcus infection that was later
complicated by pneumonia. He beat the pneumonia, but the infection lingered. In
the predawn of Dec. 14, 1920, the lights of South Bend's Oliver Hotel, where
Gipp had many friends, momentarily flicked off, signaling his death. While
hospitalized, Gipp learned he had been picked as a first-string All-America,
the first Notre Dame man so honored.
Did the dying Gipp
ever ask Rockne to tell the Irish someday, when the going was rough, to win one
for the Gipper? Because both men are now dead, the question is forever moot.
For sure, at halftime of the 1928 Army game Rockne fired up his sagging,
underdog team with such a request from Gipp. And for certain, when halfback
Jack Chevigny plunged over for the tying score in that game, Chevigny did cry
out, "There's one for the Gipper!" Indeed, as quarterback Frank Carideo
recalls, at least half a dozen times after a gain, when they lined up in T
formation for the next play, he could hear Chevigny behind him saying, "One
for the Gipper." Final score: Gipp 12, Army 6.