They were tickets to the Rose Bowl. When I’d seen the pairing for the game—Stanford vs. Iowa—I wasn’t excited. I felt Iowa had been exposed as a paper tiger. Indiana, Minnesota, and Nebraska were all average teams, and Iowa had barely beaten them. Then they lost to Michigan State in the Big Ten Championship Game. I thought that Ohio State was the next-best team out of the Big Ten and should have gotten the Rose Bowl bid. Ohio State vs. Stanford would have been a game worth watching.
Stanford closed out their season by beating Notre Dame, who had been in the hunt for a National Championship slot and spanked a solid USC team. In my mind, Stanford had the momentum and the better team. But I’d always watched the Rose Bowl on New Year’s Day, and here I was getting a chance to go see it live with my dad.
The Rose Bowl was one of the games that were steeped in history. It was known as the oldest bowl tournament—‘The Granddaddy of Them All’—with the first game having been played in 1902. Twenty-nine times the winner of the game had been named National Champion. In 1946, the Big Nine (now the Big Ten) and Pacific Coast Conference (now the Pac-12) agreed to send their conference champions to the game each year. That held until 2002 when it became part of the Bowl Championship Series and subsequently the College Football Playoff system. This happened to be a year when the Rose Bowl wasn’t a playoff game. That meant the top two rated teams in the Big Ten and Pac-12 that weren’t in the playoffs were selected.
Dad had arranged a car to take us to the game. We entered through the Court of Champions and found ourselves outside the Stanford locker room. I guess I figured out where Dad had gotten the tickets. Dad sent a text, and one of the student managers opened the door to let us in.
“Here, put these on,” he said as he handed us field passes to be worn around our necks. “Coach Pichette has a moment if you’d like to see him.”
“That would be great,” Dad said.
Coach Pichette was Stanford’s quarterback and wide receivers position coach.
“Hey, Coach,” I said and introduced him to my dad.
It was evident the two of them had talked before. This must have happened after I left for LA. He pointed us to the Terry Donahue Pavilion, where a Stanford contingent was getting VIP treatment. They had a buffet which we decided was very good. I was a little starstruck when Andrew Luck and John Elway walked ahead of us down to the field.
“Do you know who that is?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” I said, nodding.
“Did you know that in his senior year, his team was 5–5 and needed to beat Cal to go to a bowl game?” Dad asked, talking about Mr. Elway. “They were behind close to the end of the game, and he put them ahead with only seconds left. That was when ‘The Play’ happened. Cal took the kickoff and lateraled the ball back and forth to score. You’ve probably seen video of the Cal player running over the Stanford band member at the end of the play.”
“That had to be a hundred years ago,” I teased.
“I believe I was seven or eight when it happened,” Dad admitted.
Yep, a hundred years ago.
◊◊◊
Stanford had their way with Iowa. They scored in every phase of the game and won 45–16. The first time Stanford’s Heisman finalist Christian McCaffrey touched the ball, he took it 75 yards for a spectacular touchdown. A few hundred yards later, and Stanford’s sophomore star had smashed the oldest bowl game’s record for all-purpose yards. I think everyone would agree he would be a favorite for the Heisman this coming year.
Dad and I had a great time doing a little father-son bonding.
After the game, we drove back to the beach house. Pam, Lacy, Tracy, Sandy, Halle, and Rita were sunning themselves on the roof while my mom set out steaks for Dad to grill. I found tomatoes and fresh mozzarella that I could slice up and season for an appetizer. Mom had purchased fresh spinach, so I made creamed spinach from one of Mary Dole’s recipes. I also made garlic mashed potatoes. Rita broke out a red wine. I had to laugh when I saw it was the wine given to us at the wedding.
Over dinner, Rita wanted to talk about the press tour I was about to go on.
“You ready to get out there and sell your movie?”
“Caryn gave me the schedule, and I’m not going to have time to think. Is it normally this crazy?” I asked.
“The key is to just have fun. The worst is when they stick you in a room and send one reporter after another in to interview you. Rely on Frank, and stick to the talking points,” Rita said.
“The studio must be worried because they made sure I had someone with me for the first few days.”
“Be grateful. I’ve seen them throw new talent to the wolves, and it isn’t pretty. You need to remember that the reporters are looking to make a story out of your interview. Most of the older ones are so jaded they’ll try to get you to make a mistake. The younger ones are hungry and want to make a name for themselves,” Rita said.
“So, don’t trust any of them.”
