Everybody knows the story of Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger, inspiration for the 1993 movie of the same name. “Rudy” still gets played for football teams everywhere, as a way to fire the boys up, to remind them that even little guys can succeed if they never give up.
Three things I want to tell you about that story:
One, on that last play for Notre Dame, tiny benchwarmer Ruettiger actually did sack the Georgia Tech quarterback, whose first name, crazily, really was Rudy.
Two, that football moment isn’t the authentic “Little guy wins!” story. Fact: There are scrabbling, untalented walk-ons aboard every football team who often get brief moments of glory on the field. No, the real miracle is that a total nobody like Ruettiger somehow got big-time writer Angelo Pizzo and big-time director David Anspaugh to actually make the film. Try that, anybody.
Three, we have another real Rudy story, but this one’s at Northwestern, and it involves not just one guy but an entire team.
You’ll recall that at the start of this season, Northwestern football was about as low as you could go. A hazing scandal came out of nowhere, the beloved, legendary coach was fired, the team that had gone 1-11 the previous season was directionless, leaderless, pitiful. If 0-12 was a possibility, well, here was its genesis.
Then an astounding thing happened: The team that almost lost to Howard suddenly unified, grew up, focused, figured it out, became what nobody thought it could be: a solid, winning football team.
Behind unexpected coach David Braun, the young, freshly elevated defensive coordinator, the Wildcats got it together. The team that had lost 24-7 to Rutgers and 38-14 to Duke played Minnesota, and it was as if a magic curtain lifted.
Down 21-0 in the first half and 31-10 in the fourth quarter, the Wildcats rallied to win 37-34 in overtime. It was nuts. Out of nowhere.
Abruptly, a new leader had planted his purple flag. It was quarterback Ben Bryant, from Lyons Township High School, then Cincinnati, then Eastern Michigan, then back to Cincinnati, then at last to Northwestern.
Against Minnesota, Bryant, 6-3, 215, threw for 396 yards and four touchdowns, including an 80-yard TD to wideout Bryce Kirtz, with no interceptions. But his deeper story was that of transfer portal life.
“That’s the reality of college football now,” Bryant says, sitting in the team’s virtual-reality room (yes, they have one). “Teams are going to keep getting a transfer quarterback each year, and it sucks. It’s stressful.”
Bryant, who was injured for four midseason games, still led the Cats to a stunning 7-5 record and an equally shocking berth in the Las Vegas Bowl against 8-4 Utah on Saturday. It might seem strange that a fellow who’s 24, in his sixth season, with his third team (fourth if you count the two times with Cincinnati), who entered that dark portal tube three times, would find the ride unpleasant.
But he does.
“It’s crazy,” he said. “You put your name in, and within a minute or two your phone is getting blown up. Coaches will lie to you just to try to get you to come there. It’s chaotic.”
Ex-Northwestern coach Pat Fitzgerald didn’t lie to Bryant, but Fitz had no idea last spring that he’d be canned before the first game. Nor is Bryant in the transfer life just to make the new NIL money. He has a marketing guy helping him with some opportunities, but it’s low-key.
“I don’t have much, to be honest,” he says. “That’s not my purpose for coming here. I’m not all about the money. I’d rather help the team win and give myself a chance to play at the next level.”
Both are happening. He talks about how this team cut off the outside mayhem and bonded true and tight, how only a few freshman players left the school after Fitz was fired.
He also notes how in the NFL, because of constant injuries, even undrafted and third-string quarterbacks play by the end of any season, creating opportunities for guys like him who might not get drafted high up.
And to be 24, an amazing six years older than some of his Wildcats teammates — it makes him a natural beacon of leadership and strength. He already has his MBA. He’s quiet, dignified, civil. He’s at the helm of this Rudy-like team. You might say he’s Rudy himself.
That is, if Rudy ever took a slide down that wild portal tunnel.
