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How Lou Holtz rekindled the magic of Notre Dame football
SOUTH BEND ― Nobody carried as large of a presence on the Notre Dame campus than the little man with the pipe.
He spoke with a lisp, but when he spoke, you listened. It was the Gospel According to Lou.
During the 11 football seasons (1986-96) he coached at Notre Dame, it was the Golden Dome, Hesburgh Library and Louis Leo Holtz when it came to the biggest Notre Dame icons. Not always in that order. Certainly not in 1988.
If you asked a campus visitor where they would like to go first, be it The Grotto, the Basilica or Holtz's front parking spot out front of the old Joyce Center when Juniper Road ran through campus, the parking spot where he steered his Buick would be the first stop.
That’s where Lou parks.
There was something about the man and his presence that was pure magic. He put a spell on all he touched at Notre Dame, and he touched it all.
Lou Holtz was one of one. He owns a permanent place on the Mount Rushmore of Notre Dame football coaches. Rockne and Leahy, Parseghian and Holtz. No one else need apply. For now.
There wasn’t anyone like Holtz before he arrived in a flurry of force and focus from the University of Minnesota in November 1985 to provide Irish football with a sense of purpose and direction. He was the man with the plan and for 11 seasons, for 100 victories, for one national championship (1988), Holtz carried out that plan until the day he walked away from the only coaching job he ever wanted.
Maybe the only one he ever loved.
On Wednesday, March 4, at age 89 after a brief stay in hospice in Florida where he moved after his coaching days ended in 2004 after six seasons as South Carolina, Holtz died. Many knew this day was closing quickly. Still, in the end, it was a shock.
The Notre Dame campus that Holtz so loved will feel a little more empty without him. Go to certain spots, take a minute and you can still see the man with the tan khakis, the blue ND windbreaker and ball cap, the black shoes and white athletic socks playing his part as head coach.
Stalking the back practice fields, zipping out the blue-tarped gate in his golf cart, taking Notre Dame to places it had longed to again revisit, nobody on the campus stood taller, except for maybe Father Hesburgh, but a man of the cloth never devised a gameplan good enough to beat USC. Or Michigan.
☘☘☘
College football was different during the Holtz years. It was a time when reporters had to be at every single practice during the week. Not for a five-minute viewing window. Not for the first handful of practice periods. You were there for stretch; you were there for pass skel. You were there for special teams. You were there when Holtz would blow his whistle and gather his guys at midfield, after which he would hop on the waiting golf cart and speed into the waiting darkness of another Northern Indiana night.
Sometimes, he would stop at that blue-tarped main gate, stay seated in the driver’s seat, pack the pipe and fire it up while he fielded questions. He would look at you, consider your query for a beat or two and answer. The pause would feel like an eternity. Nobody so small could strike more fear into a young reporter’s heart.
You grew up in a hurry on the beat covering Holtz. You had to.
Standing on those back practice fields day after day, week after week, month after month was like attending a graduate class in Coaching 101. From 20 yards, Holtz could tell that the right guard’s hand placement was not proper. It was a few inches off. He’d tell the guard to fix the hand. The hand would be fixed. The play would be aligned properly.
Practice would continue, but not before the right guard would be asked a yes (nod) or no (head shake) question by Holtz where the answer was always no.
“Don’t shake your head,” Holtz would bellow, “I can hear it rattle!”
Laugher around, then a whistle from Holtz. Right back to work.
Chaos was a constant companion of his football program. He’d suddenly dart from staff meetings promising to return but never would. He’d head for his Granger home for a nap, or a golf course in Elkhart County. He'd eventually circle back, finish the meeting and the game plan and then watch the Irish put it all together on Saturday afternoon.
Even offseasons were not safe from insanity. Sitting with former defensive coordinator Bob Davie in a conference room reserved for the Notre Dame defense, a reporter could hear a commotion on the other side of the door. It was Holtz, stalking the interior hallway in search of assistant coach Charlie Strong.
You can still hear that voice.
“Charlie Strong! Charlie Strong! Where the hell is Charlie Strong!”
The door swung open. Holtz shot a stare at the reporter. He sized up defensive coordinator Bob Davie. Neither were Charlie Strong. The quest continued. Holtz was gone as quickly as he had arrived. He didn’t bother to shut the door.
Davie got up from his chair, closed the door, offered a smile and a shrug as he returned to his seat. That was life with Lou.
That’s the best way to remember Holtz, as the tortured genius/perfectionist. Not the caricature he became late in life with those Dr. Lou segments on ESPN and petty fights picked with Ohio State’s Ryan Day. Holtz wasn’t the same after Notre Dame.
☘☘☘
Home games under Holtz were happenings. At the end of the third quarter, the Notre Dame marching band would perform the 1812 Overture. It was tradition. So was the student body seated there in the left-hand corner of Notre Dame Stadium to the side of the Irish bench. Up there, they would make Ls with their thumbs and index fingers and chant in unison with the 1812.
“Lou! Lou! Lou!”
No Notre Dame coach since has been as beloved as Holtz. Marcus Freeman has a chance, as long as he delivers what Holtz did ― a national championship.
In 1996, Holtz, into his 11th year now but looking like the job had aged him 31, wanted to be loved by the administration. When the love wasn’t offered, when no one told Holtz he was still needed and wanted, Holtz was done. On a cold, gray day, after a 62-0 victory over Rutgers, Holtz stepped into a tent outside the construction of Notre Dame Stadium for his final home game press conference. By then, everyone knew he was done.
When he left that tent in tears, you knew Notre Dame football would soon never be the same.
For decades, it wasn’t.
Notre Dame cycled through its share of head coaches post-Holtz. Bob Davie didn’t work. George O’Leary never worked. Tyrone Willingham didn’t work. Charlie Weis didn’t work. Brian Kelly won more games than anyone in program history. His biggest criticism?
He wasn’t Holtz.
Each time a job search commenced, many longed for Holtz to return and pull Notre Dame back to relevance. He never did. His time at Notre Dame had come and gone.
Now he’s gone. No more visits to Armando’s for haircuts or to the stadium for reunions. Memories of all those 11 seasons and all he did for the university he loved live on. All those stories, hundreds of them, will be retold forever. Each will end the same.
Laughter. Head shake. Comment.
That guy was one of one.
Follow South Bend Tribune and NDInsider columnist Tom Noie on X (formerly Twitter): @tnoieNDI. Contact Noie at [email protected]
This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: How Lou Holtz revived Notre Dame football to national championship
Lou Holtz's best quotes: The 8 most memorable soundbites from legendary coaching and broadcasting career
Lou Holtz's best quotes: The 8 most memorable soundbites from legendary coaching and broadcasting career originally appeared on The Sporting News. Add The Sporting News as a Preferred Source by clicking here.
For over half a century, Lou Holtz served as the philosopher-king of college football, blending a self-deprecating wit with the hard-nosed discipline of a Hall of Fame coach.
Whether leading the Notre Dame Fighting Irish to a national championship or entertaining millions on ESPN’s College GameDay, Holtz possessed a singular gift for the "Holtz-ism"—short, punchy adages that could inspire a locker room or leave an audience in stitches. From his musings on "Trust, Commitment, and Love" to his blunt assessments of his own abilities, his voice became as fundamental to the sport’s fabric as the triple option.
The late Holtz famously noted that "nothing is as good as it seems and nothing is as bad as it seems," a grounded perspective that guided him through the pressures of coaching at six major universities. He had a rare ability to distill complex life lessons into simple, memorable soundbites that transcended the gridiron. Even as he faced his final days in hospice care at age 89, the outpouring of support from the football community reflected the profound impact of his teaching.
Looking back at his most enduring words, it is clear that while many coaches can teach the X’s and O’s, very few could speak to the human spirit with the humor and heart of Lou Holtz. He leaves behind a legacy defined not just by wins and losses, but by the "significance" he found in helping others succeed.
Here are some of his best quotes
MORE: Lou Holtz's love for Notre Dame was only eclipsed by his in-game dominance
Lou Holtz best quotes
"Trust, Commitment, and Love"
When a statue of Holtz was unveiled at Notre Dame Stadium in 2008, these were the three words his former players chose to engrave on the pedestal. Holtz taught that any team's success was based on three questions: "Can I trust you? Are you committed to excellence? And do you care about me?" He argued that if a team could answer "yes" to all three, they were unbeatable.
"I don't want to do this anymore"
On November 19, 1996, Holtz stunned the sports world by announcing his resignation from Notre Dame while still in the prime of his career. When pressed by reporters for a complex reason — such as health issues, friction with the administration, or a move to the NFL — Holtz offered a jarringly honest five-word explanation:
Our favorite Lou Holtz memory: 🥹 pic.twitter.com/vLIlQbSJs8
— College Sports Only (@CSOonX) January 30, 2026
"Never tell your problems to anyone"
This is one of Holtz's most famous "tough love" adages. He included it in his book Winning Every Day: The Game Plan for Success to emphasize self-reliance. It was a staple of his pre-game speeches, used to remind players that the world—and their opponents—won't offer them any sympathy on the field.
"No one has ever drowned in sweat"
This punchy one-liner was Holtz’s ultimate rebuttal to players complaining about the intensity of his practices.
He used it to shift the perspective on physical exertion, teaching his teams that while the "grind" of two-a-days and conditioning felt overwhelming, it was actually the only safe path to victory. He often paired this with the idea that "winners embrace hard work while losers see it as punishment."
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"Who would you be rooting for?
In a 2025 presser before the Irish played Arkansas in football, Holtz was asked by reporters whether he would root for the Hogs or Notre Dame, two places he coached.
Legendary HC Lou Holtz was asked who he would be rooting for, #Arkansas or #NotreDame?
— Josh Berrian (@_joshonair) September 27, 2025
“Let me put it like this. They fired you at one school. They built you a statue at the other. Who do you think you would cheer for?” 😂
He’s today’s honorary captain. #WPS#GoIrish ☘️ pic.twitter.com/25bIoab2VZ
"I'm so old, I don't buy green bananas anymore"
As Holtz transitioned from the sidelines to the broadcast booth, he leaned heavily into self-deprecating humor regarding his age.
He used this line frequently on "College GameDay" to poke fun at his own mortality, always delivered with his trademark lisp and a mischievous grin that reminded fans not to take life too seriously.
"God did not put Lou Holtz on this earth to coach in the pros"
After a disastrous 13-game stint with the New York Jets in 1976, Holtz famously quipped this line to explain his return to the college ranks. It became his go-to way of admitting that his motivational style was perfectly suited for molding young men but fell flat in the business-first environment of the NFL.
"I follow three rules: Do the right thing, do the best you can, and always show people you care"
If you ever asked Lou Holtz for his "secret sauce," he would inevitably point back to these three rules. He claimed that if a coach or leader lived by these three simple tenets, they would never have to worry about their reputation or their results because the "Trust, Commitment, and Love" would naturally follow.