The Granddaddy of Them All

As mentioned last night, my parents and I (representing with black and gold) went to the Cal-UCLA game at the Rose Bowl today. It was my first game at The Granddaddy of Them All.

Okay — “The Granddaddy of Them All” is the nickname for the Rose Bowl game, but the stadium is equally significant. Along with the annual New Year’s Day match-up, the Rose Bowl has hosted five Super Bowls, two World Cup finals (’94 and ’99; only Sweden’s Råsunda Stadium shares that distinction), and Olympic soccer competitions. With a pre-remodeled capacity of 104,594 (it’s lower now), it was the largest stadium in the country until 1998. (It’s the second largest stadium I’ve ever been to, behind the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.)

It was awesome being there. The fact I was in the Rose Bowl, the stadium I saw ceremoniously bedecked and admired every January 1st, overshadowed the game (Cal won, 45-26). The only thing that sucked was the unseasonal heat (I’m guessing it was around 95º) and the freeway traffic after the game (which was unrelated to the game; the 210, 10, and 5 were all backed up for some reason, reminding my parents of another reason why they left SoCal).

I got general admission tickets through the UCI staff assembly (as well as transportation on a charter bus) for cheap cheap cheap. We sat in the south end zone, which features the famous Rose Bowl sign, under the shade of the scoreboard. I highly recommend that location (at the top of section 25 or 26) on warm, sunny days if any of you Quiet Man readers find yourselves at a UCLA game with GA assignments.

It had been about two years since I saw a football game in person (the Oregon State-USC game at the Coliseum was the last), so I had to readjust to the first-person experience I was so used to in high school and college. Watching ball on TV has spoiled me: the yellow first down marker, instant replay (regardless of importance), and in-game analysis and commentary (the only player on the field I could match number with name was Cal’s Jahvid Best). After a couple series and some great plays, I rediscovered my in-person focus and attention to detail. (Though it makes no logical sense, I think I now understand why people at games also listen to the radio play-by-play of the very action they’re watching. The weird, harmonica-playing, cooler-sneaking-in guy who sat next to us was guilty of that.)

Oh, and Sports Illustrated’s Heisman Trophy Tour was there. My dad and I had our pictures taken with the trophy, the holy grail of college football. I touched it, and there’s photographic evidence. After the picture was taken and we were walking away, I patted it, unintentionally, on the ass.

Here are some pics for your enjoyment.