Happy New Year, from Pasadena

The 2006 Rose Bowl

Part I: Pre-Game

Mike Bianchi of the Orlando Sentinel summed it up well:
If college football had any soul left, it would play every national championship game right here at this majestic stadium where the history and heritage of the sport are handled with the same delicate care by which the little old ladies from Pasadena nurture their hybrid tea roses.

Well, ok, so maybe that’s laying it on a little thick. But the point is valid. If you only get to see one college Bowl Game in your life, bite/kick/scratch/claw your way to Pasadena. The Rose Bowl, built in the Arroyo Seco in 1922 and home to numerous Super Bowls, two World Cup finals, and the world’s greatest Flea Market (true story) does not disappoint. In 1902 the record shows there were actual chariot races held in the stadium.

On ‘non-game days’ it is also home to a great park, a golf course in the shadow of the stadium (two courses, actually, which become prime parking spots for the big games), and hosts numerous other events. But we don’t care about that, at least not today. Today we’re all about USC and Texas.

Since I’m with a group of five who don’t overlook the details, I find myself in a limo crawling off the 210 Freeway and into the canyon at about 12:30. Note: “If and when you go”, however you choose to arrive at the stadium, do it plenty early. When the stadium was built, the forefathers of Pasadena really didn’t foresee 50,000 automobiles descending into the canyon at once. Public Transportation in L.A. is and always will be a running gag. And the fact that the stadium lies in a vast bowl with a flood channel precludes any tearing down of old buildings or other under-utilized real estate for parking garages, because there are none. Mind you, there are worse places in America to be stuck.

We find ourselves in a sea of limos and tour buses known as Lot K. And after a few libations, its on to the park, to “R.V. Row”…where we’ve got some friends to find. R.V. Row is what you’d suspect it is…a park chock full of motor homes filled with people who make an entire week out of the game: students, alumni, hangers-on, and party hounds who probably don’t care a wit if they have game tickets. Its all about the booze, food, various states of dress and undress. It’s not for the faint of heart, although I do spot a few kids playing touch-football amongst the trees which I interpret as a sign of sanity. There are two guys in full USC football uniforms, doing their best Leinart/Bush impression. There are men and women in chaps. There are people covered in orange paint. There are people covered in not much at all. You get the picture.

We find our friends, and after some grilling out, the hard alcohol arrives. Its time to remember the mantra: Be in your seat…and alert… at kickoff. Be in your seat…and alert… at kickoff. Be in your seat… Padron Silver tequila? Why thank you.

Eventually its time to hike back up the hill to the Tournament of Roses party, a circus tent the size of a football field filled with food, televisions and more booze (detecting a theme here?). After lunch, our group performs forms a phalanx near a beer stand and the drinks cycle through effortlessly. Life is good.

The sun is beginning to set behind the San Gabriel Mountains and it’s our clue that game time is near. The human queues into the stadium are formidable, to say the least. Your three basic entry strategies are 1.) get in line, be patient, bring an empty bladder, and figure out how to occupy yourself for 45 minutes 2.) cause a commotion near a trash dumpster by your entry gate and see if you can cut in line 3.) get authorization to have a helicopter drop you on a towline into the stadium. I’ve done option 1, and it sucks. Tonight, we go for option 2. Bing, Bang, Bong. Five minutes and we’re in, despite a lot of people giving us the one-finger salute.

Part II: Game Time

I’m not going to recap the game per se…you either saw it, or you didn’t. I can’t capture the intensity, the speed, the crazy decisions or the drama nearly as eloquently as some of the thousands of column inches already written. But there are some bits of information I can relay…

First, you would never believe this stadium is 100+ years old. There are signs that the stadium is old, certainly—the lack of advertising space, cup holders, booming music and jumbotrons. (Hey wait, can we go back to the old days, please?) However, the unspectacular concessions and outer bowl are spacious, fairly organized, and un-intimidating. The lone video board at the north end of the stadium is of a human scale; it doesn’t disrupt the stadium sightlines and distract the fans. The stadium itself is fairly nestled into its surroundings… it doesn’t cry for attention like the steel and glass monsters which mangle the skylines of most modern cities. To enter into the seating bowl, you have to traverse a tunnel nearly 30 yards in length and stadium expanse opens up like a shot of cool air to the lungs as you arrive inside. There are no ‘gates, loges or field boxes’. Tonight I’m residing tonight in Tunnel 21, Row 59, Seat 101.
http://www.rosebowlstadium.com/seating.htm

You might be thinking “damn, that looks like a nose bleed seat”. It ain’t. There are no bad seats in the house, as the saying goes. The rise of the seating bowl was done perfectly, and even from Row 59 I feel pretty close to the action. I was lower and closer to mid-field for a Rose Bowl game four years ago, and the visual sense was exactly the same. The sherbet colored sunset and the mountains in the background don’t hurt either.

Second, the unmistakable aesthetic of the Rose Bowl game. The field markings of the Rose Bowl game – the thick blocks of color representing each team – are as cool as they look on TV. The rose painted in midfield probably raises the hair on the arms of the Big 10 and Pac 10 faithful year in and year out. I can’t oversell the serenity of the setting sun and the mountains. In short, you know where you are. There is no question. Contrast that with, say, the Tostitos Fiesta Bowl which could be in any stadium in America (how would you know, seriously? It’s an electric attack of gaudy hues, spastic signage, and cartoonish staging).

Finally, the pageantry, or lack thereof. Look… there have been parties, a masterful parade, contests, star-studded events and assorted game related crap all week long. Tonight is about football. Sure, we’re going to be subjected to celebrity rendition of the National Anthem and a flyover by an amazing Air Force fighter. But this is America- you have to expect that. There is not, thank God, an hour long Latino- dance-inflected-half-time show. There is not any wacky million-dollar pass throwing contest at midfield between quarters. There are no time-outs sponsored by global telecoms. There are no “fan-o-meters” urging us to “pump up the volume”. It’s 22 college kids, busting their ass for a national championship on a cool California night in front of 93,000 of their best friends. Pure. Bliss.