I’ve been home for six days now, my rear-end and brain still fast asleep from the combined 34-hours of travel. Despite the perfect car companion, who provided me with memories I will never forget, I-5 does afford you the opportunity to think. And with the journey fresh in my mind and wallet, I can’t help but look back with nothing but a smile.
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The numbers will rise-and-fall with time, but make no mistake: the Rose Bowl, in all its glory, was filled to the brim with Green-and-Yellow on the first day of 2015. From the moment the sun peeked out from the mountains, the outcome was clear. Oregon, and their fans, were here to win. They donned their colors and plowed through the barriers the moment they could. There was one mission, at least amongst the travelers.
This was Oregon’s day, Seminoles and winning streaks be damned.
Distance and repeat years will be blamed for the absence of Florida State fans. First hand, I blame it simply on arrogance and a lack of passion. They walked around with noses in the air, and a small, sometimes invisible, logo on their coats. Some wore nothing to signify their allegiances, which would have been fine in most instances. But this day was different. It was a first. It was monumental. And, just minutes into the festivities, it was clear: Just because you’re from the South, does not that a die-hard make you.
Try finding an Alabama or LSU fan at a playoff game without showing their true colors. Look for an Ohio State or Oregon fan, and it’s clear who they are. They’re proud, and they’re passionate. Florida State? It was only one impression, but it was the first…and it wasn’t good.
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I must admit, my first views of the actual Rose Bowl stadium, hidden along the tranquil valleys of Pasadena, was one of slight disappointment. Not that it wasn’t grand — the size of both the building and its tradition are enough to stop you in your tracks — but it had an odd feel to it. Of course, it was 7:30am, we were fresh off lots of driving and very little sleep, and faced six-plus hours of tailgating.
But still, it felt off, if for no more than a second.
Then, you go in, and everything changes.
This is the fourth appearance Oregon has made in the Rose Bowl since I have been alive, and the first three went by without my presence. That’s not right, I know. I’m with ya. So, as it came to be, once we saw tickets — or I should say, once my wife saw there were tickets — we, she, jumped. Because this one was different.
This was for more than pride, for more than a trophy. This was a chance at immortality; to cement our legacy amongst the elite; to watch our Heisman in person one last time, and tell him thank you; to knock off last year’s Heisman, and tell him thank you for nothing. Mainly, this was a chance to see history unfold before my eyes, with the colors as vibrant as you can imagine. The Rose Bowl always shines, but when the lights are on, the smells are clear and the moment is tense, it transports you to a place you never imagined possible.
With the San Gabriel Mountains a deep mixture of oranges, purples and golds, it feels as if the action before you is unfolding in a dream. You don’t feel cold. You don’t feel heat. All you feel is the action suffocating you, every play amplified one thousand times, with fear of a long road trip home settling in. You don’t want to travel home with reflections of as loss in the rear view. You don’t want your team to come out on top — you need them to come out on top.
Lucky for us, we came to support the correct team.
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It became clear from the opening moments that Oregon was not only the better team but, in person, they were bigger and faster. The incorrect perception has always been that while Oregon is fast, they aren’t southern fast. They aren’t southern big. When faced athlete-to-athlete, they will come up short.
Perception, meet reality.
Oregon is now at a different level, player-wise. Faced with the daunting reality of living in a state that produces little PAC-12 talent, they have gone beyond the realm and away from the norm. They’ve found hidden gems, diamonds and the occasional star. Mainly, though, they recruit guys who have the physical tools, the correct attitudes, and have molded them into stars. It’s taken a sharp eye, an even sharper coaching sense, and presto: you have a team that never wins February and signing day, but wins when faced with teams that will stockpile the NFL.
I’ll take high character, hidden talents every day of the week.
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For years, I’ve been trumpeting how college football is far and away better than the NFL; not from a quality-of-play perspective, or on the business end, but from sheer entertainment and joy. After seeing perhaps the most significant college game ever (from a historical standpoint), I feel justified in my beliefs. There is simply nothing that can compare to the passion fans have for their collegiate team of choice. Whether you’re an alum and you fancy the memories of your youth, or if you just fell in love at an early age and never let go, there’s no comparison between the two leagues.
Feeling the pulsing vibe Oregon fans left upon the Pasadena floor will resonate forever. Whether in good moments or bad, you can feel fans passion, and it has an authenticity to it that no other sport can match. It’s real, and it’s raw. It’s unfiltered and unmatched, but above all else, it comes from the heart and it’s pure. Not everyone can understand it, and that’s OK. You don’t have to. I think my wife gained an appreciation for the love we have for our Ducks on this trip, because she felt, even 1,000 miles from home, how much people care.
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I didn’t get a chance to hear it live, obviously, but listening to Kirk Herbstreit’s analysis of the Rose Bowl almost brought s tear to my eye, because it was so accurate. There’s just not a word that can describe the feeling residing over the stadium when the sun sets and the lights come out. The sun had cast shadows all day long, leaving us thirsty and a touch burnt. But as it crossed the line and began its descent to the heavens, it left you wondering why you ever question your love of the sport.
Few things in life can bring people together like the love of a team; along with about 70,000 people dressed in similar colors, with the sky Seminole-red, I felt a kinship with my fellow Oregonians that I had never felt before. Standing, cheering, rooting together, time stood still. The memories etching themselves in our eyes one minute at a time.
It was bliss. And it was real.
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In-N-Out burger, by the way, lived up to the hype — at least the burger did. The fries? Quite possibly the worst food I have ever eaten. Seriously. I’ve been known to eat some shady fast food in my day, but my God…those were beyond awful.
Oh well. Animal style, and forever more.
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There’s nothing like a road trip for a relationship. We missed our baby like crazy, and scooped her up the second we got her, but for three days it was just me and the wife, and it was fantastic. Squables, laughs, singing, eating…all of it together, unfiltered, without distraction. Just like it was in the beginning, a wonderful reminder amidst the chaos of everyday life of why we’re together. When a relationship starts, you’re stripped of inhibitions, free to be yourself. Somewhere along the line, between work and kids, bills and falling asleep on the couch, you lose your freedom.
You lose sight of who you want to be. Out on the open road? You remind yourselves why you’re there.
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I don’t know the next time I’ll find myself in the Rose Bowl. Perhaps next year, or the year after. What’s becoming clear, however, is that no appearance after this will be the same. As the days go by, and the significance of the game begins to settle in, I gain a greater appreciation for what my eyes, which have betrayed me before, allowed me to take in.
Thank you Marcus. Thank you Katie. Thank you parents. Thank you Strahm’s. Thank you Puddles. Thank you aunts and uncles who opened their home. All went into the most electrifying three days of my life.
Go Ducks. Won, not done.
Gunderson Sports 