Notre Dame Firmly Defends Iconic Leprechaun Mascot After National Survey Ranks It Fourth Most Offensive in College Football

In a bold and unapologetic move that stirred both loyalty and debate across the college football world, the University of Notre Dame has officially defended its use of the Fighting Irish Leprechaun mascot after a national survey ranked it the fourth most offensive mascot in the sport. The team’s statement, released shortly after the results of the survey went viral, emphasized the school’s rich cultural heritage, pride, and intent behind the character—drawing a sharp contrast between their mascot and other symbols that have recently been retired or renamed amid public backlash.

The controversy began when a national poll—conducted by a collegiate sports ethics watchdog—listed the “Fighting Irish” Leprechaun as the fourth most offensive mascot in college football. The survey, which gathered data from more than 3,000 college football fans, academics, and cultural representatives, placed the Leprechaun just behind the former names of the Washington Football Team, Cleveland Indians (now Guardians), and the University of Illinois’ retired “Chief Illiniwek” in perceived offensiveness.

For many, the inclusion of Notre Dame’s mascot on such a list was surprising—even inflammatory. The Leprechaun, with his fierce expression, clenched fists, green suit, and top hat, has long been a symbol of school spirit and pride for the Indiana-based university. But critics argue that the character draws on caricatured Irish stereotypes, potentially perpetuating negative tropes about Irish identity and history.

Notre Dame, however, swiftly pushed back.

In a public statement released by the university’s Office of Public Affairs and Communications, the school defended the mascot as a cherished embodiment of resilience, grit, and cultural heritage—something the university says was never meant to offend, but rather to honor.

“It is worth noting that there is no comparison between Notre Dame’s Leprechaun and mascots that were based on derogatory or dehumanizing images,” the statement read. “The Leprechaun is a symbol that celebrates the proud Irish heritage of our university’s founders, students, and alumni.”

The university also reminded the public of its historical ties to Irish Catholic immigrants, many of whom faced intense discrimination when they first arrived in the United States. The school pointed out that the Fighting Irish nickname emerged not as a slur, but as a badge of pride—embraced by the university and its athletic teams as a way to stand against prejudice and to unite its community under a shared cultural banner.

“The Fighting Irish moniker, and the Leprechaun mascot that represents it, originated during a time when Irish Americans were viewed as outsiders in this country,” the statement continued. “What was once meant as a slight was turned into a source of strength.”

Notre Dame’s defense drew a line in the sand by comparing its situation to others that had faced reckoning, specifically citing the Washington Football Team, which underwent a high-profile rebranding after sustained criticism over its previous name—widely condemned as a racial slur against Native Americans.

“The decision by professional teams like Washington to change their identity was rooted in an acknowledgment of genuine harm caused to Indigenous peoples,” the university added. “That is not the case here. Our mascot does not mock a people—it celebrates a lineage that is part of our institutional soul.”

Still, public reaction to the university’s defense has been mixed.

Some alumni and Irish-American groups applauded the school’s stand, echoing the sentiment that the mascot is a cultural emblem, not a parody.

“I’m Irish, born and raised, and I’ve always found Notre Dame’s mascot to be a symbol of pride, not offense,” said Seamus Doyle, a Boston-based attorney and Notre Dame graduate. “There’s a huge difference between honoring heritage and belittling it. The Leprechaun does the former.”

Others weren’t so convinced.

Critics argue that, despite good intentions, the mascot does traffic in dated stereotypes—ones that, if applied to other ethnicities or nationalities, would not be so readily accepted. The exaggerated physical features, aggressive stance, and magical connotations, they say, lean into cartoonish portrayals that do not reflect the dignity of Irish culture.

“What’s interesting is that we seem to have a blind spot when it comes to Irish stereotypes,” said Dr. Fiona McKenna, a cultural studies professor at New York University. “The image of the belligerent, drunken Irishman with fists up is historically damaging, yet we let it slide when it’s in sports. That’s worth interrogating.”

McKenna noted that there is a broader trend in American sports of reevaluating mascots and team names that may no longer align with evolving social awareness. “If you’re going to have the conversation about representation, it has to be across the board,” she said.

Despite the criticism, the university has indicated no plans to retire or alter the Leprechaun. In fact, the school doubled down on its commitment by noting that the role of the mascot is filled each year by students of diverse backgrounds—further showcasing the unifying, not divisive, nature of the symbol.

Notre Dame has also pointed to its inclusive history. Over the past decade, the role of the Leprechaun has been played by students of various ethnicities, not solely those of Irish descent. In 2019, Samuel Jackson became the first Black student to serve as the official Fighting Irish mascot—a move celebrated by many as a sign of the university’s commitment to diversity within its traditions.

“We are not portraying a people—we are portraying a spirit,” Jackson said at the time. “It’s about energy, passion, fight. That’s what the Leprechaun means to us.”

As the debate continues, Notre Dame is clearly choosing to stand firm in its defense—not out of ignorance, but with the belief that context and intention matter. The university acknowledges the broader discourse around mascots and representation but remains confident that its use of the Leprechaun passes the test of respect, heritage, and pride.

In the larger college football landscape, the controversy may serve as a test case for how institutions can navigate questions of tradition versus progress. Some will continue to question whether any ethnic-based mascot, no matter how beloved, can truly escape caricature. Others see Notre Dame’s approach as a model for how schools can honor history without erasing it.

As for the fans? Inside Notre Dame Stadium, where 77,000 voices rise in unison to chant “Go Irish!” every fall Saturday, the sentiment is unlikely to waver.

“To me, the Leprechaun is family,” said Maureen Gallagher, a season-ticket holder and third-generation Notre Dame alum. “He’s not a cartoon. He’s our fighter, our symbol, our tradition. That’s not something you give up because of a survey.”

For now, the Fighting Irish remain just that—fighting. Not out of defiance, but from a deep-rooted belief in who they are, where they come from, and what that green-clad figure means to generations of Notre Dame faithful.