The storied intersection of Notre Dame Fighting Irish and USC Trojans football has been more than quarterback duels, last-second thrillers, and Jefferson debates—it’s been a living, breathing institution sewn into the fabric of college football’s soul. It began in 1926 and, with a few exceptions, has been contested nearly every year since, symbolizing a cross-country bridge between Midwest tradition and West Coast flare ([en.wikipedia.org][1]). What’s now threatening to unravel is exactly that: the fabric. The potential losing or severe altering of this matchup has sent ripples of disappointment—or even disillusionment—through the hearts of Notre Dame legends, fans, alumni, and broader college football purists alike.
In recent months, across press conferences, podcasts, op‐eds, social media, and athletic director boards, Notre Dame icons have been visibly upset by hints that USC may choose to shelve or scale back the Jeweled Shillelagh series beyond 2025. Since head coach Lincoln Riley first broached the idea that USC might need to prioritize playoff positioning over long-term nonconference rivalries, questions have escalated. He was cited as saying they might “sacrifice rivalry games” depending on what’s best for USC’s national championship goals ([onefootdown.com][2]). That revelation sent a shockwave, first because it fundamentally clashed with the rivalry’s symbolic gravity, and second because it forced Notre Dame’s legends—coaches, players, and executives—to rally publicly in its defense.
Notre Dame coach Marcus Freeman didn’t mince words when speaking to the South Bend media: “I want to play USC every single year. When? I don’t care. I want to play USC every year because it’s great for college football.” His tone, almost ringmaster-like in its intensity, was part plea and part challenge. That was a former Notre Dame quarterback turned accomplished coach, laying bare how essential this game is—not just as a contest, but as a cultural event.
The Notre Dame athletic director has likewise cast his lot in favor of annual continuity, and some have speculated the Irish may be open to concessions—such as playing the game as a season opener, changing venues, or even shifting frequency—but only if the annual tradition can continue uninterrupted. But for some legends, mere negotiations are tantamount to capitulation. They see any deviation as diminishing the rivalry’s integrity.
Their concerns aren’t only emotional; they’re based in concrete history. Think of Frank Leahy’s 1949 squad blanking USC 32–0 in a frigid showdown ([onefootdown.com][5]). Or Logan Holtz beating USC in L.A. during their 13-year streak in 1988, the first top‑1 vs. top‑2 marquee clash and recorded as one of the greatest prime-time games in history . The ‘Bush Push’ in 2005 when Reggie Bush illegally shoved Matt Leinart into the end zone, giving USC a 34–31 win that remains one of college football’s most legendary showdowns. These are not just games—they’re generational folklore. To remove the possibility of future chapters is to amputate potential future greatness.
No wonder then, that Notre Dame legends are expressing profound disappointment. Their voices echo across articles and interviews—some in measured tones, others in raw frustration. In one recent op-ed, a former Notre Dame figure lamented that the series’ end would “kill the soul” of college football, equating it to removing a lighthouse from a stormy sea of modern scheduling and playoff logistics. These weren’t just words; they were declarations of cultural loss.
More notable is the emotional weight behind each lament. One ex‑player recalled sending Thanksgiving prayers to the gods of history, hoping to wake up to games against USC in Ike’s stadium—only to realize those hopes might crumble after 2025. Another coach, under his breath, muttered that if USC goes through with ending the series, “college football will never be the same.”
You don’t even have to visit campus to hear the dismay either. Pop into NCAA forums or Twitter threads—but especially the Notre Dame subreddit—and the sentiment is unmistakable. One poster summed it up:
These remarks capture the disappointment as more than nostalgia—they reflect a sense of betrayal.
Meanwhile, USC’s side has put out carefully worded statements. USC AD Jen Cohen pledged the series remains “such an important series to our fans and both universities… we will continue to evaluate what’s best for our student‑athletes and our program” ([reddit.com][8]). Yet those carefully phrased locations—concessions, evaluation, conference demands—are precisely what have left Notre Dame legends skeptical. They see a Trojan athletic administration acting as if pressure from Big Ten travel and playoff seeding is forcing them into cold, calculated compromises.
As the negotiation stalemate continues—notably with USC offering only a single year extension after 2025—Notre Dame’s leadership has maintained a more straightforward stance. The Irish want “a long‑term agreement” and daily references to their willingness to play annually. The comp‑option—the idea of playing every other year, or neutral‑site matchups—is not on their table ([onefootdown.com][4]). Their position has only buttressed the sense among Notre Dame’s legends that they’re holding fast while the Trojans are signaling far less love.
This has left Notre Dame’s storied alumni calling out “cowardice” in USC’s camp. The phrase originated on social media and in op‑eds highlighting USC’s posture as betraying tradition under the guise of future‑focused planning . The usage isn’t subtle—but it’s reflective of how visceral this has become for many.
To the outside world, this may look like one rivalry trying to find a place in a shifting playoff era. But at the individual level—particularly among former players who remember legendary games or coaches who cemented their legacies through those matchups—it feels like a betrayal. Many have expressed worry that ending or diminishing this series sets a dangerous precedent: that non-conference rivalries, no matter how historically significant, can be expunged in the name of scheduling convenience or playoff aspirations.
It’s worth acknowledging the integrity of Riley’s point-of-view: USC is now in the Big Ten, struggling through lengthy road trips, and facing a radically shifting playoff landscape. The New York Times and Los Angeles Times have pointed out that USC fears playing long-distance, challenging games in October might erode their playoff outlook—where losses can be terminal . That’s a reality many programs now face. But tradition-minded Notre Dame legends reject that pragmatic calculus, saying tradition, identity, and generational continuity shouldn’t be negotiable assets.
What makes the loss even more painful is the contrast between past and potential future. Unlike with other rivalries that have sputtered or dissolved due to conference realignments or league mandates, this one has no looming administrative barrier on Notre Dame’s part. The Irish want to sign up—they’ve already expressed willingness for stands, sites, or prime-time windows. USC, on the other hand, has signaled hesitation—even while sitting in talks. That perception has only inflamed Notre Dame legends, who argue that if USC truly cared, the optics and timeline would look different.
The college football world is watching this ripple carefully. If this rivalry disappears—or even becomes irregular—what’s next? Will future generations say: “USC-Notre Dame, that used to be…”? Should that future come to pass, countless Notre Dame legends have already delivered their verdict: they’ll consider it a lukewarm failure of collective memory and identity.
In the corridors of Notre Dame’s halls, the lineage of Rockne, Leahy, Holtz, Weis, Freeman—they’re all watching. Their legacy is entwined with that Wooden-shrine Saturday in October or that cold late-November trip to the Coliseum. Removing that possibility is akin to amputating chapters of their stories. It’s not just about losing one game—it’s about losing an echo of the past in the roar of future stadiums.
And so what now? At the time of writing, nothing is scheduled beyond 2025. USC has offered the Irish a one-year extension for South Bend in 2026—and nothing more. Notre Dame continues to press—freely open to creative solutions. All the while, Notre Dame legends are going public with their disappointment, warning that this is more than tradition-changing—it’s tradition-breaking.
Whether the rivalry survives in perpetuity or is relegated to the history books, one thing is clear: Notre Dame’s legends have spoken—and their disappointment isn’t mere mourning. It’s a reckoning. They stand firm in the belief that some traditions are not expendable and that the legacy of college football depends as much on preserving them as it does on winning them.
We may soon reach a point where a new generation asks, “What’s the Notre Dame-USC game?” In that scenario, fans who witnessed the Bush Push, the green jersey game, or the Coliseum showdowns might simply shrug. But for the legends, losing the chance to relive or redefine those moments—not to mention passing them on—would be a loss far deeper than a scheduling tweak. It would be a wound in the shared identity of college football, and for Notre Dame’s greats, it appears the rivalry’s end isn’t just upsetting—it’s unacceptable.
