Golden Tate and one of college football's most iconic celebrations

Golden Tate spent more than a decade as a receiver in the NFL. He won a Super Bowl. He appeared in a Pro Bowl. He made a winning touchdown catch in the playoffs.

For everything he did on a football field, it was an impromptu decision as a Notre Dame player 15 years ago on this day that might stand out from the rest.

“It’s something I’ll never be able to forget,” he said.

The internet will not let him.

“It pops up every year,” Tate said. “It’s one of the main highlights of all time, which I had no clue it was going to happen.”

Tate, of course, is referring to a spectacular catch in the end zone to give Notre Dame a fourth-quarter lead at home against Michigan State on Sept. 29, 2009. But it’s not exactly the score that has been memorialized in college football history. After making the catch, Tate proceeded to leap — arms extended as if to motion for a touchdown — headfirst into the Spartan Marching Band in what can only be remembered as one of the most iconic spur-of-the-moment celebrations of all time.

Did I do thaaaaatttt ??? (steve urkle voice) 🤓😂 https://t.co/f15zHYfCr5

— Golden Tate (@ShowtimeTate) July 1, 2020

In what was eventually Charlie Weis’ final season as the Irish coach, Notre Dame had suffered a disappointing upset loss to Michigan the previous week. Michigan State had also lost the previous week, against Central Michigan, and was led by a redshirt sophomore quarterback named Kirk Cousins, whose only win as a starter had come two weeks earlier against FCS Montana State.

For Weis, a loss to that Michigan State team would have been an irredeemable sin. It all added to the gravity of the moment when quarterback Jimmy Clausen dropped back to pass, trailing 29-26 with just over five minutes to play.

After more than 65 yards in the air, the ball dropped perfectly into Tate’s outstretched hands and the rest Tate can relive as if it happened in slow motion.

“I didn’t even realize the band was there,” he said. “I was able to catch it, get my feet in and then my body clock was telling me I had to be getting pretty close to the end of the end zone.”

A careful analysis of the footage shows Tate took about three steps before he encountered the wall of band members. Impact was unavoidable.

“I can’t remember what the little girl played — I don’t know if she had like a little trombone or a flute or a clarinet or something — I see this little girl like right in my line and I know I couldn’t stop, so I’m going to destroy her [if I kept going],” Tate said. “And I got on full-on gear. So, quickly I think, ‘OK, well if I just jump and land on all of them, everyone wins.’ I don’t want to completely hit-stick this little girl who’s in the band.

“They catch me and it’s a win-win. And I probably looked really cool doing it.”

Except Tate’s plan had an undiagnosed flaw.

“Little did I know, this marching band skedaddled out of there so quickly and all that was left to land on were these plastic chairs,” he said.

The adrenaline staved off any physical pain, leaving Tate more concerned about how it might have looked to a national TV audience.

“I go from, ‘This is going to be cool,’ to now, ‘I probably look like an idiot.’ I was going to jump in the band and now I just landed on a bunch of chairs,” Tate said.

Somehow, all of this happened in less than four seconds.

“They could have probably hit me with their instruments,” Tate said. “Someone could have poured a beer on me and I would’ve never noticed, because I was so locked into the game and had tunnel vision. I would have never known.”

Weis didn’t see the leap as it happened, but later had one critique.

“It was the wrong band,” Weis said.

Tate doesn’t remember why the band was that close to the field in the first place, but the response was a predictable one for college football.

“Michigan State fans and alumni sent Notre Dame a bunch of emails of their disapproval of me jumping into their band,” Tate said. “Which I thought was kind of hilarious.”

Archived message board conversations have preserved the opposing fan overreaction, some of which painted the moment as some kind of overarching referendum on Tate and Notre Dame:

• “It would be one thing to run into your own band, but what G. Tate did was unclassy.”

• “It looked somewhat intentional to me. I hope [MSU coach Mark] Dantonio raises a stink about it.”

• “The more I see of ND this season the less I respect them and Weis.”

The touchdown stood as the game winner, and the bigger conversation after the game was more about what effect the result had on Weis’ job security.

“It’s a big win for Notre Dame, it’s not a big win for Charlie Weis,” Weis said after the game.

It was the first of a three-game winning streak that saw the Irish climb back into the AP Top 25 before falling apart late in the season. Weis was eventually fired two days after the season ended and replaced by Brian Kelly.

Fifteen years later, Tate’s leap is appreciated for the entertaining moment it was, and it holds a special place in Irish lore. It has been viewed hundreds of thousands of times on YouTube, and it continues to be discussed on online platforms. A few years ago, it was even memorialized in a Notre Dame children’s coloring book created to help Notre Dame fans pass the time during remote schooling.

“Being a part of history from such a prestigious and traditional university is like pretty special,” Tate said. “It was my honor to represent the university for the years I was there and now to be just part of the history books. Not only for I guess my celebrations, but also for my play.

“Now that I think about these stories or retell these stories, they seem a lot better than they were back then because I guess that was just my life. And now it’s like, ‘Man, that was really cool.'”