For Lou Holtz, Football Was His Job, But Faith Was The Real Purpose
(ESSAY) Lou Holtz’s story was about more than football.
The sideline antics, his gravelly voice and the championships all made him one of the most recognizable men in college football.
But to measure Holtz, who died on Wednesday at age 89, only by wins and trophies (he compiled a 249-132-7 record over 33 seasons as a college football head coach, while taking six different programs to bowl games) would miss the deeper truth about the man. His life was built on something stronger — perseverance, leadership and a Catholic faith that shaped nearly every decision he made.
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“Everybody wants to win,” he once famously said. “I always used to ask my players, ‘Can you live with losing? Can you live with failure?’ That’s life’s motivator.”
Holtz was born on Jan. 6, 1937, in Follansbee, West Virginia, a steel town. He grew up in nearby East Liverpool, a place where life wasn’t easy and opportunities scarce. His family struggled financially, and from an early age he learned that motivation came from the value of work. Football soon became both an outlet and a proving ground.
He wasn’t the fastest player or the strongest. In fact, Holtz would later joke that he was too small and slow for the game. But he had something that can’t be measured on a stopwatch: He refused to quit.
At Kent State, he was a linebacker, earning a reputation less for his athletic ability and more for his leadership. Teammates noticed his understanding of the game, a trait that hinted at what his future might hold. After graduating, Holtz served in the Army Reserve before stepping into coaching — a profession that would eventually define his legacy.
Like many young coaches, he paid his dues traveling across the country. Assistant jobs came first. Then, in 1969, his first opportunity to lead a program arrived at William and Mary.
Success followed. Over the next two decades, Holtz built a reputation as one of college football’s best program builders. Stops at several schools — including North Carolina State and Arkansas — followed a similar script: Struggling teams, renewed discipline and steady improvement. Wherever he went, Holtz left programs better than he found them.
But the defining chapter of his career began in 1986 at Notre Dame. Few jobs in college sports carry the weight of leading the school’s storied football program. By the time Holtz arrived, the team had endured several disappointing seasons. Holtz didn’t shy away from the pressure. Within a few years, Notre Dame was back among the nation’s elite. The peak came in 1988 when the they completed a perfect 12-0 season and captured the national championship. For fans and alumni, the moment felt like the restoration of something larger than football — a return to the tradition and pride that had long defined the Catholic school.
Holtz coached at Notre Dame until 1996 and, at the time of his retirement, stood as the winningest coach in school history. His teams regularly appeared in major bowl games and finished many seasons ranked among the nation’s best. Yet his greatest influence wasn’t drawn on a chalkboard. Holtz believed coaching meant shaping people, not just players.
“Notre Dame mourns the loss of Lou Holtz, a legendary football coach, a beloved member of the Notre Dame family, and devoted husband, father and grandfather," said Father Robert Dowd, who serves as Notre Dame’s president. “Among his many accomplishments, we will remember him above all as a teacher, leader and mentor who brought out the very best in his players, on and off the field, earning their respect and admiration for a lifetime.”
In locker rooms and team meetings, his speeches rarely focused only on football. Instead, they centered on character, accountability and purpose.
“Holtz was always committed to teaching and preaching, and the facilitator was football. Maybe that’s why he only stayed away from the game for two years after leaving Notre Dame,” Matt Hayes recalled in a USA Today piece.
Hayes pointed out that Holtz experienced his share of failure. For example, Hayes wrote Holtz “won 249 games as a college coach, and three lousy games in one season with the NFL. When he quit his job with the Jets with one game remaining in the 1976 season, Holtz declared, ‘God did not put me on this earth to coach professional football.’”
Holtz often summarized his philosophy in three simple rules: “Do right. Do your best. Treat others as you want to be treated.” Those words became a guiding principle for many of the players who passed through his program.
Faith was at the center of it all. A practicing Catholic, Holtz never separated his beliefs from his professional life. At Notre Dame — a university deeply rooted in Catholic tradition — that faith became even more visible. Holtz and his wife, Beth, regularly attended Mass and encouraged players to develop not just as athletes, but as men of character.
Holtz spoke openly about how prayer helped him navigate the emotional swings of football. Victories could be thrilling. Losses could be crushing. But he reminded his players that the scoreboard didn’t define their worth. Faith, he believed, provided a steadier compass.
Even after stepping away from coaching, Holtz remained a familiar voice in sports. He became a TV analyst and motivational speaker, sharing stories from decades on the sideline. His delivery — part humor, part blunt honesty — made him a favorite on stages across the country.
While the settings had changed, the message did not. Discipline mattered. Accountability mattered. Above all, faith mattered. In the end, that may be the truest measure of Lou Holtz’s legacy. The championships and records will always be part of the story. The life he led and his impact on others helped shape the rest.
“I thank God I have the opportunity to solve my problems,” Holtz once said. “We tend to look at how bad things are instead of picking up ourselves up and embracing the wonderful opportunities we have.”
Clemente Lisi is executive editor at Religion Unplugged.