Marcus Freeman Owns Up to ‘Embarrassing’ Mistake That Ultimately Propelled Notre Dame to the Championship Stage

Marcus Freeman didn’t flinch when the question was asked. Standing at the podium after Notre Dame’s emotional semifinal win, a victory that punched the program’s ticket to the national championship game for the first time since 2012, Freeman knew what was coming. With cameras rolling and reporters eager for answers, the third-year head coach took a breath, looked straight ahead, and said it plainly.

“I made a mistake. An embarrassing one,” Freeman admitted. “But somehow, it might’ve been the best thing that could’ve happened to this team.”

What he was referring to had quietly been the subject of growing internal discussion within the Fighting Irish fanbase. A misstep—one that many had either overlooked or forgiven in light of the team’s recent success—was now being brought into the open by the very man who had made it. And in doing so, Freeman didn’t just take accountability. He gave his team a new source of pride.

The “embarrassing” decision Freeman owned up to occurred weeks earlier in the regular season, during Notre Dame’s narrow win over an unranked but scrappy Wake Forest team. With the Irish clinging to a six-point lead late in the fourth quarter, Freeman opted to go for it on 4th-and-2 from his own 33-yard line. The call, aggressive and brimming with confidence, backfired. Wake Forest stuffed the play, took over with a short field, and nearly scored a game-winning touchdown before a botched snap turned the ball back over to Notre Dame.

Fans were stunned. Analysts were ruthless. And inside the Irish locker room, the moment created tension. A handful of veterans reportedly challenged the coaching staff in a postgame meeting. “That moment broke us a little,” said one senior defensive lineman, who requested anonymity. “It didn’t make sense. And when your coach does something that reckless, it shakes your trust.”

Freeman knew it, too. In the days that followed, he reportedly held one-on-one meetings with team leaders, addressing the play call and reaffirming his commitment to leading with poise rather than pride. It was in those moments, Freeman said, that something quietly powerful began to happen.

“Accountability isn’t just about saying you messed up,” Freeman explained. “It’s about showing that you’re willing to learn from it. I told them, ‘I screwed up. I was too caught up in trying to make a statement. That’s not leadership. That’s ego.’”

In the weeks that followed, Notre Dame began playing with a new edge. Gone was the passive-aggressive tension between players and coaches. In its place was a shared sense of responsibility, forged through uncomfortable honesty. The Irish ripped off three straight wins, including a dramatic upset over then-No. 3 USC, in which Notre Dame’s defense dominated the second half. The offense played mistake-free football. Special teams shined. It was as though the entire team had found a new gear.

“We finally started playing for each other,” said quarterback Riley Leonard. “It’s not that we didn’t trust Coach Freeman before, but when he admitted that mistake, it allowed the rest of us to let go of our own egos. It kind of reset everything.”

Coaches often speak of culture, but rarely is culture so visibly shaped in real time by a singular event. Freeman’s decision to be publicly vulnerable—an unusual move in the high-stakes world of college football—did more than quiet critics. It galvanized a team that had seemed to be teetering on the edge of underachievement.

Even players who had been skeptical of Freeman’s approach early in the season started to see him differently. One linebacker, a former four-star recruit who had considered transferring, now calls Freeman “the most authentic coach in the country.”

“He doesn’t BS you,” the linebacker said. “He’s gonna tell you when he’s wrong. That makes it way easier to run through a wall for a guy like that.”

And Notre Dame has, metaphorically, been running through walls ever since. Their postseason journey has included blowout wins, gritty defensive stands, and highlight-reel plays that have earned them a spot among college football’s elite. But it’s the unity—the undeniable chemistry—that’s carried them through.

In their semifinal win, the Irish leaned heavily on that cohesion. Down 10 in the third quarter against a Georgia team that had been pegged as a juggernaut all year, Notre Dame didn’t panic. Freeman’s sideline demeanor was calm and focused. The team responded with three straight scoring drives, a blocked punt, and a crucial goal-line stand with less than two minutes to play.

“That goal-line stand doesn’t happen if we’re not together,” said senior safety Xavier Watts. “That’s not just about athleticism or scheme. That’s about heart. And we found that heart after Wake Forest.”

For Freeman, the journey to the championship stage has been anything but smooth. Hired in 2021 amid sky-high expectations, he’s weathered early criticisms about his in-game decision-making, recruiting strategy, and even his emotional coaching style. At times, the pressure felt like it might crack him. But as he stood on the field last Saturday night, drenched in Gatorade and surrounded by elated players, Freeman looked like a man who had found his footing—and his identity.

“I don’t think you can lead if you’re afraid of looking weak,” he said. “That was my mistake earlier in the year—I tried to pretend I had all the answers. But these guys don’t need a perfect coach. They need a real one.”

Notre Dame’s rise under Freeman this season is all the more impressive considering the landscape of modern college football. With the transfer portal, NIL deals, and player empowerment reshaping the sport, head coaches are asked to be part-strategist, part-CEO, part-therapist. Many fall short. Freeman, however, seems to have found a way to turn those challenges into a strength.

“I think a lot of guys feel like they can be themselves here,” said offensive lineman Joe Alt. “We’ve got guys from all over, with all kinds of personalities. But there’s a culture now where everyone feels heard.”

That culture will be tested in the biggest way possible when Notre Dame faces off against defending champion Michigan in the title game next week. The Wolverines are stacked, physical, and battle-tested. Pundits are split. Vegas has the Irish as slight underdogs. But there’s a growing belief among Notre Dame faithful that this team might have something more powerful than odds on its side.

They have humility. They have belief. And they have a coach who’s willing to admit when he’s wrong—then use that moment to fuel something greater.

“It’s funny,” Freeman said after the semifinal. “That one bad decision… that might’ve saved our season. Because it forced us to be honest with each other. And once we got honest, we got dangerous.”

Now, just one game away from a national title, Freeman’s once-criticized blunder is being reexamined. Not as a stain on an otherwise stellar season—but as the spark that set the fire.

If Notre Dame finishes the job next week, Marcus Freeman’s “embarrassing mistake” may go down as the most important thing he’s ever done as a head coach. Not because it showed he was fallible—but because it showed he was human. And in a game often dominated by bravado and pretense, that kind of honesty might just be the secret weapon no one saw coming.