Unrivaled moments

Not all of the old stories about the USC-Notre Dame game involve touchdown passes or last-second field goals. As the Trojans and Fighting Irish prepare to renew their rivalry Saturday, former players offered memories of a more personal nature -- some touching, some funny, others embarrassing -- in interviews with Times staff writer David Wharton:

Never a tall tale

Before Pat Haden and J.K. McKay became a quarterback-receiver duo at USC, they were friends. Apparently, that means they have a long history of needling each other.

Asked about Notre Dame, Haden immediately recalled the 1973 game, when McKay lined up opposite the Trojans’ other receiver, All-American Lynn Swann.

“We’d break the huddle and all the Notre Dame players and coaches would point, ‘There’s Swann,’ ” Haden said. “I’m not sure they even guarded J.K. They might have put the nose guard out there.”

Whenever the rivalry comes around, Haden said he teases his buddy, “The nose guard had you one on one.”

Informed of these comments, McKay replied: “You know, I’m so tired of that story ...”

Then he talked about the 1974 game, when USC fell behind 24-0 before mounting a furious rally to win, 55-24.

Halfway through the comeback, he was supposed to run a curl pattern but saw the defense break down, so he went long.

“I was hoping to catch Pat’s attention,” he said. “But as you might know, Pat is so short that I couldn’t make eye contact with him. I couldn’t even make forehead contact.”

Streaking downfield, McKay heard the crowd roar.

“All of a sudden, here comes the ball,” he said of what turned into a 45-yard touchdown play. “It looked like Pat was throwing a grenade out of a foxhole.”

Clean Watters

Notre Dame Coach Lou Holtz wasn’t the kind to tolerate arrogance, so tailback Ricky Watters had to be sneaky about trying to jazz up his uniform. He would tuck a small towel into his waist or maybe slip on a pair of wristbands, nothing more.

“I was the humble freshman doing what I was told,” he said.

But when USC came to South Bend in the fall of 1987, Watters got swept up in the hype. He went with the towel and the wristbands, and spatted his shoes with rolls of white tape.

“That game just felt different,” he said. “I came out on the field and I’m running around. Very excited.”

Until Holtz spotted him.

“Are you crazy?” the coach hollered.

While the rest of the team continued with warmups, Watters had to sprint back to the locker room and peel everything off. Bare arms, no towel, no tape on the shoes.

Fittingly, the Irish played old-fashioned football that gloomy October day, Watters and his teammates combining for 351 yards on the ground, pounding out a 26-15 victory.

“It kind of messed me up because I couldn’t wear anything ... I was bare,” he said. “But I ended up having a great game.”