Football: Ex-Antler at home in South Bend

Trevor Robinson had packed his books and his shoes and his computer.

He had packed all his Notre Dame football gear. His 2002 red Jeep Grand Cherokee was reaching capacity and he still had to cram his 6-foot-6, 305-pound body behind the wheel.

Then, standing outside his buddy's garage in South Bend, Ind., Robinson looked at his mini fridge. Is there room?

It was May 2008, and Robinson was finishing the wildest year of his life. He'd welcomed Tom Osborne and Charlie Weis through his front door. He'd opened letters calling him a traitor.

He'd sat at the 50-yard-line for Michigan-Ohio State, surrounded by 111,940. He'd sat alone in a dorm room in South Bend, dreaming of Memorial Stadium. Now it was time to go home for a short summer break.

Back to Elkhorn. Finally.

He picked up his mini fridge and tried to squeeze it into the back of the Jeep.

What are you doing, Robinson's dad said. Just leave it in the garage. You'll be back in a month.

Dad didn't understand. Trevor had to take this mini fridge right now or it was gone. He wasn't coming back to Notre Dame.

So he tilted it and swiveled it and shoved it. Then he slammed the door.

OK. Ready to go home.

Callahan pledge

Trevor Robinson spent this past month in Elkhorn.

He bounced from one graduation party to the next, stayed up late with old buddies, tubed down the Elkhorn River, camped in the wilderness, caught crappie, grilled them for dinner.

Oh, and Robinson celebrated his 20th birthday. He looks older.

His hair is buzzed — he cut his long locks his freshman year at Notre Dame. His full cheeks are gone — he's dropped 25 pounds since he plowed through Class B defenses. He's three semesters from a business degree at the University of Notre Dame.

Much has changed since he left that campus two years ago, homesick.

Charlie Weis is gone and new coach Brian Kelly is counting on the junior lineman to help lead a revamped offense. Robinson is the Irish's No. 1 right guard, just as he was in 2009.

After a turbulent two seasons, Robinson is a veteran, a leader who isn't afraid to tell teammates what to do in the film room.

“By far, he's one of the most intelligent guys on the field,” said Sean Cwynar, a Notre Dame defensive tackle and Robinson's close friend. “He doesn't make mistakes. His mind's in the right place.”

That wasn't always true, especially his first semester of college. Robinson had chosen the fast track: graduated from Elkhorn in December 2007, enrolled at Notre Dame in January 2008, got a jump on his competitors.

But how many nights that first spring did he sit in his Notre Dame dorm room and ponder where he'd gone wrong?

Robinson was just 16 when he and Dad jumped in the car and hit every football camp from Texas A&M to Ohio State. That summer, 2006, coaches first told Trevor he could play major Division I football. That summer, he first saw Notre Dame.

But he was a Nebraska kid, the son of Nebraska natives. His grandparents had been season ticket holders since the Devaney days.

During March of his junior year, he accepted Bill Callahan's scholarship offer.

No good letters

Summer came, and Wade Robinson encouraged his son, who had grades to match his athletic talent, to think harder about academics.

Nebraska was fine. Michigan and Notre Dame were better.

By the time Bill Callahan slid off the road in 2007, Robinson had become one of the nation's best undecided talents.

High-profile coaches were passing through Elkhorn every week, turning the school hallways into rumor central. Who was coming today?

“Some schools were throwing scholarships at him and he'd never even talked to them,” said Elkhorn's quarterback, Jared Brill. “It was ridiculous.”

Weis came to Elkhorn wearing his Super Bowl ring. Osborne, during his short tenure as interim head coach, came wearing a friendly smile. Robinson's mom got an autograph.

A few days later, new coach Bo Pelini stopped by, too.

It wasn't enough. On a Thursday night in December, with Weis sitting on his couch, Robinson declared his future. Weis put his hands on his head and said, “Thank God.”

Anonymous letters from Nebraska fans starting landing in the mailbox.

“None of them were too bad,” Robinson said, “but none of them were good.”

In January, he moved to Indiana and hiked through snow every morning in the dark to lift weights.

“I would turn on the news and the seven-day forecast, it would just be snow seven days across the screen. In the winter in South Bend, you go about three months without seeing the sun.”

He plowed through drifts of notes in American History.

“I'm sitting here taking these classes where my head's spinning. I could be sitting in study hall BS-ing with my friends.”

He tried to make friends with football players, who didn't have much in common with a 17-year-old Nebraskan who joined the team in January.

Robinson found comfort from unlikely sources. From Jimmy Clausen, the hot-shot quarterback. Clausen sent Robinson text messages telling him to come over and hang out.

From Weis, the polarizing head coach. Weis listened like a father when Robinson came by his office and explained how much he missed home.

“All I wanted to do was go to Nebraska,” Robinson said.

He returned for the state basketball tournament, then again for prom. When the weather improved and classes ended, Robinson packed his mini fridge and came home. Perhaps for good.

Dad convinced him to give it another shot. It's not going to get any worse, Wade said. Your classmates will arrive this summer. You'll feel more a part of the team, a part of campus.

Dad was right.

Good start

True freshmen are supposed to open their careers against Western Kentucky or Nevada or Akron, not Michigan.

The Irish had a two-touchdown lead in the pouring rain when Robinson got his first taste of college football. For a moment, he caught himself looking around Notre Dame Stadium.

“That was the first time I really took it in. I don't know if I'll ever forget that.”

Robinson got his first start at Boston College — against defensive tackle B.J. Raji, an eventual first-round NFL draft pick. Robinson's performance still might be the best of his career.

“He didn't give coaches a reason to take him off the field,” Cwynar said.

As a sophomore, Robinson started 11 games and became a steady piece of a vulnerable foundation. Notre Dame reached 6-2. Then it lost four straight. ESPN cameras started showing up to document the demise of Weis.

The next weekend, Robinson watched the Big 12 championship game from a friend's apartment. Waited nervously as Texas lined up for a last-second field goal.

“I didn't know if I wanted them to make it or not,” he said.

He cheers Nebraska...but to see the Huskers win a conference title without him...after his coach had just been fired...that might've been too much.

‘Camp Kelly'

In 2007, three head coaches battled for Trevor Robinson. Bill Callahan, Lloyd Carr and Charlie Weis.

Callahan got fired that fall. Carr retired after inviting Robinson to the Ohio State game; then his staff got fired. Two years later, Weis was gone, too.

Robinson sent Weis an e-mail, saying thanks for all he'd done.

Then he prepared for “Camp Kelly.” Brian Kelly's offense is new to Notre Dame — the quick-tempo spread. So is his commitment to discipline and diet.

In practice, Kelly has “a little more vocalness,” Robinson said, which sounds like a nice way to say he yells a lot.

After practice, Notre Dame players had always eaten at the dining halls. By tradition, everything available to athletes is available to regular students. No perks.

But Kelly added a training table — an athletes-only place to eat. And Robinson, like a lot of teammates, has dropped 30 pounds since last season. He's down to 280.

His goals haven't changed much — Robinson still wants to qualify for a BCS bowl game — but his perspective has.

Looking back, Robinson said, leaving Elkhorn early for college was a “good thing to have done, not a good thing to be doing... but I would do it again.”

And he'd go to Notre Dame again.

When the recruiting process started, Robinson worried only about football. Where and when will I play? What are the coaches like?

But you only play 12-13 games a year. You only see the coaches half the year. You live at school, you study at school, you build friendships. Football's just one part.

“It's funny the things you think about when you're 20 compared to when you're 16,” Robinson said.

On Saturday afternoon, after a month at home, Robinson climbed into his 2002 red Jeep Grand Cherokee and hit the road for Indiana.

He packed light, just a few suitcases. He would've had plenty of room for a mini fridge.

But it's back in South Bend, sitting in the corner of his buddy's garage, collecting dust. Someday, he says, he might use it again.

“Probably not.”

Contact the writer:

649-1461, dirk.chatelain@owh.com

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