tremendous team dynamics. We knew how to work hard, but we also knew how to have fun doing it. This was due in large part to Joe Tiller and the culture and attitude he created when he came to Purdue. He ran about twenty guys off the team in the spring of 1997, a lot like the military weeds out the weak links during boot camp. Coach Tiller had a couple of very simple rules that you were expected to follow: Do what you are supposed to do, when you are supposed to do it. And do it that way every time. He also emphasized that if you do things the right way, good things will happen to you. They might not happen today or tomorrow, but eventually they will.
Oh, and then there was the “golden rule,” at least Coach Tiller’s version: he who has all the gold makes all the rules. As long as you acknowledged this, you would be just fine. We all knew who the boss was. If you missed class, were late to a meeting or a workout, or disrespected authority, you would pay for it with a 6 a.m. workout or a “throw-up session,” as the players liked to call it. You ran so much or did so many up-downs and barrel rolls that throwing up was almost guaranteed. It was this leadership and discipline and fear of failure that allowed us to be as successful as we were those four years.
I vividly remember many exciting games from my time at Purdue, but there are a few that have left permanent marks on me. One of those was a game against Notre Dame, which I see as one of the defining moments of my college career.
I didn’t start for Purdue until my sophomore year, in 1998. The first game of the year was against USC in the Pigskin Classic. We lost that game after taking a halftime lead, then won against Rice and Central Florida. The fourth game of the season had us playing at Notre Dame. In a game against the Fighting Irish, you have all the storied tradition of Notre Dame football—“Touchdown Jesus,” the Golden Dome, the Gipper—and it was nationally televised on NBC. Purdue hadn’t beaten Notre Dame in South Bend in almost twenty-five years. It was the biggest game of my life.
My play in the first three games had been okay, but I still hadn’t convinced anyone that I was the quarterback of the future. There were questions about whether I could lead the Boilermakers to a Big Ten championship and a Rose Bowl.
Notre Dame was a highly ranked team at the time, not to mention the fact that they ended up in a Bowl Championship Series game at the end of that season. They also had an unbelievable defense. When I was a kid, I would watch games like this on TV and dream about being in that moment. Now that moment was here.
Coming Back Stronger
It All Comes Down to Two Minutes
For the first fifty-eight minutes of the game, I played some of the best football I ever had. Unfortunately, a game is sixty minutes long. At halftime we were winning 24–14. I had completed seventeen of twenty-one passes for more than 200 yards and two touchdowns. We were rolling.
In the second half Notre Dame came back. We were up 30–28, and we had the ball in our territory. We basically needed only one first down to run out the clock. The Fighting Irish defense stuffed the first two run plays for no gain, and then we moved back five yards on a penalty. It was third and fifteen with about 1:50 on the clock. Jim Chaney, our offensive coordinator, called a pass play where I would roll out to the left and throw the ball to a receiver running a deep in route right into my vision. It’s not an easy pass—you have to time it well and stay balanced in order to deliver the ball accurately. But it was a play we’d run many times with success. If the pass was completed, we’d have a first down and the game would be over.
I rolled out, and wide receiver Randall Lane broke across the field in front of me as expected. The coverage was good, but I saw a window to complete the pass. As the ball left my hand, I could feel it come out a little high as I was attempting to elevate
Angela Conrad, Kathleen Hesser Skrzypczak