When College GameDay ended in Westwood, what was practically an exodus began.
Thousands of students who only a few minutes earlier had been packed tightly in front of the stage began spreading out through the streets surrounding UCLA, many of them still dressed in blue and gold, carrying flags, signs, and coolers as they started making their way toward Pasadena.
The game was still six hours away from kickoff.
But the day was only getting started.
At eleven in the morning, the parking lots around the Rose Bowl officially opened and, almost immediately, the tailgating began.
Paige made the trip in Sam's car along with a few girls from her study group.
Traffic toward Pasadena was exactly what could be expected for a UCLA-USC game with both teams ranked inside the Top 10. For several stretches they moved at practically a walking pace, surrounded by cars decorated with UCLA flags, jerseys hanging out of windows, and the occasional vehicle covered in red and gold that immediately got honked at by Bruins driving nearby, Howard among them.
Even so, they had left with plenty of time.
Shortly after eleven, they finally reached the Rose Bowl area.
For Paige, it was the first time she was getting the full experience of a football game.
It wasn't that she had never been to tailgates before. The thing was, she never went when the gates had barely opened. It would be way too much time, six hours until kickoff and then three hours or more for the game itself. Nine hours at the stadium, there was no way. Until today.
In fact, she had already been experiencing the game since earlier that morning because of College GameDay.
Now she was checking her phone every few seconds to make sure none of her friends ended up parking half a mile away from everyone else.
"Leonard says they're coming in through Rosemont Avenue," Paige said while typing quickly, "Mónica also says Haley is coming in that way."
"Good," Sam nodded, both hands on the steering wheel.
The plan had required more coordination than Paige would have expected.
Mónica was coming with Haley, Rachel, and a friend of the latter two from the fashion academy who had managed to get a ticket on the secondary market after paying an enormous amount of money.
Howard, meanwhile, had arrived in his own car with Leonard, Ross, and the Prophet Chandler.
Paige still didn't understand how that nickname was actually used seriously.
Eventually, they managed to park near one another, and the group began gathering between the rows of cars.
Paige closed the door of Sam's car and, the moment she stepped outside, looked up.
She stopped.
The gray sky that had covered Westwood for much of the morning had almost completely disappeared. Over Pasadena now stretched a clear blue sky, crossed only by a few white clouds.
Paige narrowed her eyes and raised one hand to shield herself from the sun, "It cleared up," she murmured.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?! Even the sky decided to wear Bruins colors," said Howard, who had just gotten out of his car. He closed the door, walked over, and looked up as well, smiling broadly.
Paige looked at him.
Normally, that kind of comment would have earned him, at the very least, a disapproving look.
This time, she simply looked up at the sky once more, "I suppose so," she admitted.
Howard looked at her, a little surprised. He had already mentally prepared himself for her to tell him to stop repeating the same thing at every game, since he had made a similar comment against Washington.
Maybe her seven-in-the-morning bad mood had finally worn off.
"The Lord is watching."
The voice came from behind them.
Paige turned and saw Chandler walking calmly toward the group, both hands in his pockets, before stopping as well to look up at the sky for a few seconds.
Paige looked at him with an expression that was difficult to interpret.
It wasn't just because of the comment.
That very morning, Chandler had spent nearly ten minutes sitting in front of the College GameDay cameras, talking with Lee Corso, Kirk Herbstreit, and the rest of the panel as if appearing on national television were something perfectly normal.
At some point during that interview, he had predicted with complete seriousness that UCLA would defeat USC 67-17.
That part, of course, was already everywhere: Twitter, Facebook, forums, clips cut from the broadcast...
Until that day, however, she had never actually met Chandler in person.
She had read some of his tweets. Andrew had also told her how they had met and mentioned that he had invited him to the game. But it wasn't until a few hours earlier, right after College GameDay ended, that Mónica had formally introduced him to her along with his brother, Ross.
Now, after watching him spend ten minutes on television talking about Andrew almost as if he were interpreting some sacred text, Paige was beginning to understand certain things about his personality.
Ross, who had just gotten out of the car, caught Chandler's comment.
He looked at him. Then he glanced up at the sky. Finally, he slowly shook his head as a smile appeared on his face, "Don't start again."
Chandler spread his arms naturally, "I only interpret signs," he said.
"Sixty-seven to seventeen?" Haley commented as she walked over with Mónica and Rachel. She looked at him with an amused smile and added, "That's a pretty specific sign."
Rachel laughed.
"Corso and the others pushed me to give a score," Chandler said, turning toward Haley.
He shrugged, as if that explained everything that had happened, "What did you want me to do? I wasn't going to go on television and say we'd win by three points."
"So you jumped straight to a fifty-point difference? Not twelve. Not fifteen. Fifty," Haley said, emphasizing the last word.
Chandler raised both arms and looked around, "Look at this. The universe is cooperating."
He had material to defend himself with.
Since early that morning, the sky had remained covered by a thick layer of clouds. It wasn't especially unusual for November, when even Southern California's pleasant weather began to show a few grayer days.
But now it had changed completely.
Paige looked up again, "If you think about it... Andrew has another coincidence with the Bible," she murmured.
Chandler immediately lowered his arms and looked at her.
He had only met Paige a few hours earlier, but he had already reached a fairly clear conclusion.
From the way she spoke, the way she observed before stepping into a conversation and, simply, the impression she gave, she seemed very intelligent.
"Go on..." Chandler said, completely interested.
Leonard slowly turned toward Paige, 'Don't tell me you're going to start too,' he thought.
"Andrew is adopted. I assume you already know that," Paige said.
Chandler nodded.
Paige continued, "According to Christian tradition, Joseph of Nazareth was Jesus's earthly and legal father. He was Mary's husband when she conceived Jesus through the Holy Spirit. In other words, Joseph was the one who raised him and who socially and legally recognized him as his son. Technically, he was his adoptive father."
She paused briefly and continued, "While his true father, within Christian doctrine, would be God."
Chandler's eyes widened slightly. He had already understood where she was going with this.
Paige then raised her index finger and pointed toward the sky, without even bothering to look up, "So, following your logic... it makes sense that the clouds cleared."
A small smile appeared on her lips as she concluded, "God wants to watch his son play."
Chandler's eyes lit up, "It's true! Another biblical parallel!" he exclaimed, pointing at her as if she had just provided an important piece of evidence, "And a much better explanation for why the sky cleared."
Mónica let out a sigh, "Don't give him ammunition."
"And since when do you know so much theology?" Sam asked, looking at her in surprise.
Paige gave a slight shrug, "I was just helping him build a more coherent interpretation," she replied.
"That still doesn't answer the question," Sam said.
"I read the Bible. Back in my hometown, I knew an extremely religious woman who would probably have an aneurysm if she heard Chandler using Scripture to make a name for himself on the internet," Paige replied.
"Then I hope I never meet her," Chandler said.
Rachel laughed.
By then, the group had finished gathering and began walking away from the cars.
They had managed to park in one of the nearby paved areas, but the real activity was somewhere else.
The large numbered lots surrounding the Rose Bowl stretched across enormous expanses of grass and, even though it was only a few minutes past eleven, they were already beginning to transform.
Blue tents, folding tables, lit grills, and open coolers.
Music poured from different speakers at the same time, blending with conversations, shouts, and car horns as new vehicles continued arriving constantly.
It was still only getting started.
Howard walked ahead of the group, checking his phone. As a UCLA student, he already had experience with tailgates.
A lot more than Sam or Paige.
Besides, Howard was pretty popular. Not because he had done anything particularly worthy of fame. He was simply one of Andrew's friends.
He had no problem taking advantage of that.
"It's this way," Howard said, pointing toward one of the lots.
A fairly large group of students was waiting for them several rows ahead.
They had set up several tents together, two grills, tables covered with food, and enough beer for dozens of people.
They didn't get very far.
"HEY!"
A shout came from another tailgate.
Chandler turned his head.
A student dressed entirely in blue was pointing at him.
"IT'S THE PROPHET!"
Several people immediately turned around.
"PROPHET CHANDLER!"
"SIXTY-SEVEN TO SEVENTEEN!"
Chandler stopped. A huge smile appeared on his face. A group of five students quickly approached.
One high-fived him.
Another slapped him on the shoulder.
"You were incredible this morning!"
"Tell them again how much we're winning by!"
Chandler raised both hands, "Sixty-seven to seventeen."
The small group erupted into cheers, "GO BRUINS!"
Chandler responded by raising a fist, "Go Bruins, kids!"
They kept walking or at least, they tried to. Every twenty or thirty yards, it happened again.
"Prophet!"
"Chandler!"
"A picture!"
"Sixty-seven!"
Some just wanted to high-five him.
Others patted him on the back as they passed.
A bearded man who looked far too old to be a college student raised his cup of beer toward him from beneath a tent, "GOD BLESS UCLA!"
Chandler pointed toward him, "AND YOU TOO, BROTHER!" he shouted so he could be heard.
"His ego is already getting way too big," Ross said, knowing his friend was enjoying this far too much.
Back at college in New York, he had gotten some attention when celebrities liked or replied to his tweets, but nothing like this.
Here at UCLA, Chandler was a celebrity.
"I'd say he's handling fame pretty well," Rachel said, amused.
Eventually, they had to stop when three students asked him for a photo.
Chandler happily agreed. He stood between them, grabbed the small cross hanging around his neck, kissed it, and held the pose for the picture.
"He cannot be real," Sam muttered, watching from the side.
"And there are still six hours until the game. He's going to become a cult leader before kickoff," Leonard commented.
After taking a few pictures, Chandler walked back toward the group, "I'm like Leona, but the male version."
Ross, Leonard, and Howard immediately understood the reference.
Rachel frowned, "Who?" she asked, confused.
Paige tilted her head slightly. The name sounded familiar.
She knew it was one of the characters from that videogame Andrew played some nights, although her knowledge of the game pretty much ended there.
"The one with the shield?" Paige asked.
Howard turned toward her, surprised, "You know who Leona is? How?" he asked.
He had never seen her play, nor could he remember her ever mentioning any interest in that game.
Paige gave a slight shrug and replied, "Andrew explained a little bit of League of Legends to me."
Howard narrowed his eyes, "When? I never saw him explaining LoL to you or showing you videos."
"We talk, Howard. Text messages exist, we don't have to be physically together to tell each other things," Paige said, treating him like an idiot.
Paige had been talking quite a bit with Andrew over text during the past few weeks: things about classes, comments about their day, the occasional discussion that could go on for quite a while, among other things.
Howard opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else, but he didn't. It was probably better not to say anything.
Rachel, who was still looking from one person to another without understanding absolutely anything, raised a hand, "I still don't know who Leona is."
Chandler extended an arm toward her, delighted to have the attention back, "Leona is basically a religious warrior of the sun. She represents the Solari. I represent Andrew. Hence the comparison."
"You'd be more like some kind of herald," Leonard commented almost absentmindedly.
Only afterward did he seem to realize that he had just taken the comparison seriously.
Chandler slowly turned toward him and pointed, "Exactly."
Leonard frowned, "No, wait. I didn't mean—"
"Herald of Andrew," Chandler repeated, testing the words, "I like it."
Mónica, who had spent the past several minutes looking at the nearby grills with growing interest, finally lost her patience.
She walked over, grabbed Chandler by the arm, and pulled him along, "Come on, herald, reverend, or whatever you are. Walk. I'm hungry."
Chandler let her drag him away.
Haley laughed as the group started moving again.
The tailgate continued growing as the hours passed.
Paige had already experienced something similar the week before, when UCLA hosted Washington at the Rose Bowl.
But that had been different.
Much more relaxed.
After the comeback against Oregon, the game against Washington had almost felt like a celebration. UCLA had just beaten the number two team in the country in Eugene, Andrew was coming off the most talked-about game of the entire season, and no one around the program seemed to consider Washington a particularly serious threat.
The tailgate had been huge, but the overall feeling was that of a party.
Then UCLA had done exactly what everyone expected and destroyed Washington.
This was nothing like that day. USC was different. The energy was different, louder and much more competitive.
Every time someone wearing a red shirt appeared among the blue tents, boos, shouts, or some comment would come from several yards away.
A considerable number of USC fans had made the trip to Pasadena.
Although, technically, calling it a trip almost seemed like an exaggeration.
UCLA and USC were separated by only a few dozen miles within the same metropolitan area. It wasn't like hosting Oregon, Washington, or some other opponent whose fans had to spend hours on the road or take a flight to get there.
The Trojans were practically at home too.
That meant the Rose Bowl would have a much larger visiting presence than usual.
It would still clearly be a UCLA stadium. Blue and gold would dominate the stands. But USC's red wouldn't be reduced to a small patch lost in one corner.
There would be thousands of them, and outside the stadium it was already noticeable.
As the afternoon went on, the chants from both groups began competing with each other.
Some shouted U-C-L-A.
Others answered with Fight On.
The taunts flew back and forth. Nothing too serious.
But enough for Paige to understand why everyone had been waiting for this game ever since Andrew committed to UCLA and they finished with the second-best recruiting class.
Around two-thirty, after eating and spending a good part of the afternoon among the tents, Howard decided it was time to move.
"Come on," he said, standing up, "If we want to see the teams arrive, we have to go now."
That was enough to get the group moving. They walked toward the area where the buses would enter, joining hundreds of people who had had exactly the same idea.
USC was the first to appear.
The reaction was immediate. The applause and conversations were buried beneath a wave of boos that swept through the entire area.
Thousands of arms began moving at the same time.
Eight claps.
Pause.
Eight claps again.
The Eight Clap.
One of UCLA's most recognizable traditions.
Hands struck together in rhythm while the fans shouted:
"U! C! L! A! UCLA! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"
The sound repeated over and over as the USC buses moved slowly forward.
The Trojans fans didn't stay quiet either.
There were thousands of them gathered near the entrance, answering with chants of their own, raising their arms and trying to make themselves heard over the wall of blue-and-gold noise.
But they were in Pasadena. No matter how many of them there were, competing against tens of thousands of UCLA fans was difficult.
Paige watched it all with a mixture of surprise and amusement.
The rivalry felt much more real when both groups were separated by only a few yards.
About ten minutes later, the noise began to rise again.
This time it was different. There were no boos.
There was an explosion.
The UCLA bus appeared at the end of the street and the crowd immediately pressed toward the barricades.
Howard, Ross, and Chandler tried to move forward.
Haley did too.
Rachel stretched to try to see over several people.
Paige, on the other hand, stayed a few steps farther back with Leonard.
The area was too crowded.
Paige had absolutely no intention of shoving her way through hundreds of people just to see the players for three seconds as they stepped off a bus.
Especially when everyone surely wanted to see Andrew.
Besides...
Paige crossed her arms. She could see Andrew at his apartment any day. Sit inches away from him and talk to him without having to shout over five thousand people.
She could even kiss him if she wanted to.
The thought came so naturally that it took her a second to process it. A small, satisfied smile appeared on Paige's lips.
Then the sound changed.
At first it was only a few voices. Then many more.
"PRITCHETT!"
"HEISMAN!"
Paige and Leonard glanced at each other for a moment as the last name began spreading through the crowd like a wave.
"PRITCHETT! PRITCHETT! PRITCHETT!"
She couldn't see him from where she was standing. She couldn't even clearly make out the bus door. But it was obvious that he had gotten off.
Almost an hour later, around three forty-five, the group decided to enter the stadium. It was better to go in early and find their seats without rushing.
When they finally reached their section, Paige recognized Andrew's family almost immediately.
The tickets he got for family members and guests were usually grouped together in the same area, so it was normal for everyone to be seated near one another.
Mitch was talking with Cam a few rows below.
Jay was sitting next to Gloria with Manny nearby.
Claire and Phil were close to them with Luke and Alex.
Haley was the first to move ahead, "Mom!"
Claire barely had time to turn around before Haley reached her.
Then she greeted her father and the rest of the family almost without stopping.
Mónica and Rachel did the same. They were no longer new faces to any of them.
Sam greeted everyone naturally as well. It wasn't the first time she had seen them, and a few seats farther away she also recognized Steve's parents, whom she greeted too.
Paige did the same.
By this point, she didn't need any introductions either.
The only new part came a few seconds later when Mónica introduced Ross and Chandler.
Jay, who until then had barely been paying attention, turned his head. He stared at Chandler for a couple of seconds.
Chandler immediately noticed that he was being recognized.
Jay narrowed his eyes, "You're the guy with the cross from College GameDay."
Chandler smiled, "That's me."
Jay had watched practically the entire show that morning.
There was no way Jay was going to miss College GameDay.
So he had also seen those more than ten minutes in which, for some reason he still didn't fully understand, a guy who posted funny football tweets on the internet had ended up sitting there talking with Lee Corso, Kirk Herbstreit, and the rest of the panel.
Jay still wasn't sure whether he found it funny or offensive. Probably a little of both.
"Let me tell you right now..." Jay began, staring directly at him.
"Yes, sir," Chandler said, standing up straight.
"If we don't win by at least ten points, you're a fraud, and you should stop quoting the Bible about my grandson's games," Jay continued.
Ross lowered his head to hide a smile.
Leonard did the same.
Chandler, to everyone's surprise, nodded quite seriously, "That seems fair."
"Good," Jay murmured.
"Then," Chandler said, "if we win by ten points, can I keep tweeting things about your grandson, God, and the Bible?"
"You can," Jay said, crossing his arms and looking toward the field, considering the matter settled.
Gloria, who had been listening to the conversation, slowly turned toward Chandler, "So you're the one who's been talking about God on the internet and television?"
Chandler looked at her, "Uh..." he said, unsure how to answer, since her tone was different. More hostile.
Gloria was genuinely religious. She went to church regularly, had a fairly intense relationship with religion, and on top of that, she was superstitious enough to take certain things much more seriously than the rest of the family.
In fact, it wasn't unusual for her to argue with Jay because he would rather play golf on a Sunday than go to Mass with her.
Chandler knew how to read people.
It took him only a few seconds to realize that he was standing in front of someone who didn't see religion as material for just any joke.
"I do it respectfully," he added quickly.
Gloria watched him without changing her expression, "Because you don't play around with God, and you don't use Jesus Christ to make football jokes either."
"Everything I said came from a place of deep spiritual admiration for Andrew," Chandler justified himself, swallowing.
Gloria kept staring at him.
One second. Then two, and then she smiled.
"I'm joking. Why are you so tense, muchachito?" Gloria said, giving him several strong pats on the back.
Chandler's shoulders finally relaxed and a smile appeared on his face, "You made me think you were one of those crazy believers with no sense of humor."
Gloria pointed at him, "I have a sense of humor, and if you believe something, say it loudly."
Chandler's expression changed immediately. Almost as if he had just received an official blessing, "I will, ma'am."
Gloria frowned, "Don't call me ma'am. I'm not that old."
Chandler froze.
Gloria raised her thumb and pointed at Jay over her shoulder, "You can call him sir," she said.
Jay looked at her, "Thank you very much."
A few seats away, Cam was still discreetly looking toward the group of young people.
Or, more specifically, at one person in particular.
Cam slowly leaned toward Mitch, "That's her, Mitch," he whispered near his ear.
Mitch didn't even need to ask who he meant.
He followed the direction of his gaze. Paige was talking with Mónica and Sam a few yards away, completely unaware that she had just become the subject of analysis.
"Yes, Cam. I know," Mitch said, wanting to let out a small sigh.
Cam had been especially interested in Paige ever since Andrew confirmed that they had gone on a date the previous Saturday.
His son had specifically used that word.
Naturally, that had been enough to activate every one of Cam's gossip instincts.
The problem was that since then, Andrew had given them practically zero additional information.
According to Andrew, it had gone well. That was it.
He had answered a few questions with short sentences before changing the subject and, with USC approaching, they hadn't exactly had many opportunities to interrogate him.
Cam kept looking, "She's very pretty. I'd already noticed before, but looking more closely…"
"Cam," Mitch cut in.
Cam looked at him, "What?"
"Stop staring at her. If she notices, you're going to make her uncomfortable," Mitch replied.
"Fine, fine, whatever you say," Cam said, looking away.
He didn't want to get caught staring at her and whispering. Paige might suspect they already knew something and wonder about the sudden change in behavior.
"We are not turning into my sister," Mitch said with complete seriousness.
He had no intention of interrogating every potential partner his son had the way Claire did with Haley's boyfriends and possibly Alex's too.
Twenty-five minutes before kickoff, ABC's national broadcast was already underway.
The cameras slowly swept across the inside of the Rose Bowl. People everywhere. The most dominant colors were blue and gold.
But the red stood out too. It wasn't just a few hundred people. There were thousands.
Inside one of the broadcast booths, Brent Musburger looked out at the stadium through the glass before turning toward the camera.
[We're getting closer and closer,] Brent said in his deep, excited voice, [Twenty-five minutes separate us from the battle for Los Angeles.]
Beside him, Kirk looked toward the stands.
Brent extended a hand toward the stadium, [Kirk, look at this place.]
The camera switched to a wide shot from high above. The Rose Bowl looked ready to burst.
[It's absolutely packed, Brent,] Kirk replied, [And we've just been given the official number.]
He briefly checked his notes and added, [Ninety-three thousand three hundred fifty-nine.]
[That's more than usual...] Brent said, raising his eyebrows.
[Yes, another sellout for the Bruins, but this is different,] Kirk said, [Demand for this game exceeded even the stadium's normal capacity.]
The images showed the upper sections. There were practically no empty spaces left.
[The Rose Bowl has an official capacity of just over ninety-one thousand spectators,] Kirk explained, [To reach this number, they opened additional standing-room tickets. Fans have been placed in authorized sections of the wide upper concourse and in a few access areas.]
The camera found one of those groups, packed tightly behind the final row of seats.
[And they pushed it to the limit,] Kirk continued, [They even removed several of the advertising tarps that normally cover sections of the lower rows to recover every available seat.]
Brent couldn't help but smile, [In other words, if there was a place where you could see a football field from, they sold a ticket for it today,] he commented.
[Pretty much,] Kirk said, almost laughing.
[Let's take a look at USC's most dominant players so far this season,] Brent said as the broadcast shifted toward the Trojans.
Matt Barkley was the first to appear.
The image showed the blond quarterback in the red-and-gold uniform, smiling slightly to one side as his season statistics appeared beside him.
MATT BARKLEY — 2012 SEASON
226/349 passing — 64.8%
2,972 yards
33 TD
13 INT
8.5 yards per attempt
297.2 yards per game
[Good numbers, although those interceptions stand out, and he's only twenty-eight yards away from three thousand,] Kirk commented.
Barkley was also coming into the game in one of his best stretches of the season.
Over his last three games, all USC victories, he had thrown for more than 1,200 yards and eleven touchdowns.
Statistically, those were spectacular numbers.
The problem was the turnovers.
In one of those games, he had thrown three interceptions and, with thirteen total on the season, that category had become the biggest blemish on a campaign that, by almost any other measure, would have been excellent and capable of putting him in the conversation for the Heisman.
But those interceptions had taken him out of the conversation for individual awards.
There was also another recurring criticism surrounding his numbers.
Barkley possibly had the best group of receivers in the country.
A considerable number of his passes were short or intermediate throws that his star receivers then turned into huge gains thanks to their speed and ability after the catch.
One of them was Marqise Lee.
[Now Marqise Lee. One of the best receivers in the entire NCAA right now,] Brent commented.
The image changed immediately.
Lee appeared on screen, followed by another statistical graphic.
MARQISE LEE — 2012 SEASON
98 receptions
1,447 yards
13 receiving TD
110 rushing yards
677 kickoff return yards + 1 TD
2,234 all-purpose yards
Kirk looked at the numbers for a moment, [I think saying he's one of the best almost undersells it. Right now, he's either number one or number two in the country at the position. He leads the entire NCAA in receptions and receiving yards, ranks third in receiving touchdowns, and second in all-purpose yards. On top of that, he's a Biletnikoff semifinalist.]
The Fred Biletnikoff Award was given annually to the most outstanding receiver in college football.
Lee wasn't just a candidate to win it. He had also entered the Heisman conversation.
He was only a twenty-year-old sophomore.
He appeared around fifth or sixth on several national Heisman watch lists.
If Andrew was the player USC was most worried about heading into the game, Marqise Lee occupied exactly that role for UCLA.
[Now, USC's defense. These are probably the two names facing the hardest assignment this afternoon: trying to slow down one of the most explosive offenses in the country, with Andrew Pritchett-Tucker playing football in a state of grace,] Brent commented.
Two names appeared on screen alongside images of the players.
T.J. McDONALD — S — SENIOR
MORGAN BRESLIN — DE/LB — JUNIOR
T.J. McDonald was the leader of the defense. A veteran, a leader, and one of USC's most recognizable faces on that side of the ball.
[McDonald has already shown what he can do. In 2011, he was a First-Team All-American and First-Team All-Pac-12 selection. He's the man who gets his guys organized, communicates adjustments, and probably the defensive player USC trusts the most when things get difficult,] Kirk explained.
Beside him appeared Morgan Breslin. His story was different.
A junior college transfer, he was playing his first season with the Trojans and had needed very little time to become one of the most important players on that defense.
[And Breslin is the man UCLA is going to have to watch constantly. Ten sacks this season. One per game. If USC wants to make Andrew uncomfortable, this is probably the player who's going to have to do it.]
He was their pressure specialist.
The man responsible for winning off the edge, collapsing the pocket, and preventing Andrew from having enough time to extend plays and look for a pass.
Something especially important against a quarterback who had turned escaping extremely difficult pressure into a regular part of his highlight reel.
Brent then added another detail, [There's an interesting family story with T.J. McDonald. His younger brother, Tevin McDonald, is UCLA's starting safety.]
The screen split to show both brothers.
T.J. McDONALD — USC
TEVIN McDONALD — UCLA
Their father, Tim McDonald, had been a star as well.
An All-American at USC before going on to a long NFL career in which he made multiple Pro Bowls.
Now, years later, both of his sons would be starters in the same game. But on opposite sides of the rivalry.
After going over USC, the broadcast shifted to UCLA. Brent and Kirk moved from one player to another as the clock continued to tick down.
Then Brent looked toward another section of the stadium. A smile appeared on his face, [Kirk, by the way... I don't know if you've looked at the list of famous guests we have here today.]
Kirk raised his eyebrows slightly, [Is it long?]
[Very,] Brent replied, as the cameras began searching for different faces in the stands, [This game didn't just bring together two of Los Angeles's biggest programs. It looks like it brought together half the city too.]
The first image immediately appeared on the Rose Bowl's massive screen.
Justin Bieber.
He was in one of the luxury boxes with several friends and acquaintances, dressed casually. When he realized the camera was on him, he smiled and raised a hand.
The crowd's reaction was immediate.
A deafening mixture of applause, shouts, and screams poured down from different sections of the stands.
[Justin Bieber, and this certainly isn't his first appearance at a UCLA game this season,] Brent commented. [He was here for Pritchett's debut, and we know the two of them know each other.]
The broadcast switched to another section. This time, two faces appeared together.
Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez.
The volume surged again.
Selena smiled when she saw herself on the screen, while Taylor raised a hand and briefly waved toward the camera.
[Selena Gomez was also here for that first game,] Brent continued. [Taylor Swift is known to have followed several UCLA games through Twitter. The two of them were photographed having dinner together in Los Angeles earlier this week.]
Kirk let out a small laugh, [You really are informed.]
[I did my homework,] Brent commented.
Justin's absence from Selena's side didn't go unnoticed either.
Over the past few weeks, their relationship had gone through one of its most difficult periods, and their recent breakup had already generated headlines in practically every entertainment outlet.
The fact that they were in the same stadium but sitting separately wasn't exactly going to make those stories disappear.
The camera kept moving.
Then Brent's tone changed slightly.
[There we have one of the men who helped turn UCLA into what it is in college athletics. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.]
The reaction was different.
Just as loud, but filled with a different kind of respect.
The entire Rose Bowl seemed to rise in applause.
Kareem responded with a calm smile and raised a hand.
Considered by many to be part of the NBA GOAT conversation.
He had won 6 regular-season MVP awards, the most in league history, more than Jordan.
6 NBA championships, 19 All-Star selections, and the NBA's all-time leading scorer with 38,387 points.
But before becoming one of the greatest legends in NBA history, he had gone through UCLA.
Where he won three national championships, was a three-time Final Four Most Outstanding Player, and was a fundamental part of John Wooden's dynasty.
He wasn't simply a celebrity attending the game.
He was one of the greatest athletes UCLA had ever produced in its entire history.
The camera changed again. This time, the roar came before Brent even said the names.
Kobe Bryant and, beside him, Jack Nicholson.
[Well... I don't think they need much of an introduction either,] Brent commented.
Kobe smiled broadly when he saw himself on the screen and waved with one hand, while Nicholson remained seated beside him, barely reacting to the camera.
Kobe had played with the Lakers the night before. But he had that Saturday off before the team's next game and, being in Los Angeles, had taken the opportunity to attend the biggest college game in the city.
The fact that he was sitting next to Nicholson wasn't particularly unusual either.
Jack was possibly the Lakers' most famous fan. For years, he had occupied his courtside seats and had developed a close relationship with several of the franchise's stars, including Kobe.
The camera continued.
Jennifer Lawrence appeared laughing at something while talking with Bradley Cooper.
Chris Tucker was sitting near them.
[Jennifer Lawrence, Bradley Cooper, and Chris Tucker. All three were here in Los Angeles last night for the premiere of their next movie: Silver Linings Playbook,] Brent explained.
It took Jennifer a second to realize she was on the giant screen.
When she finally looked up, Jennifer's eyes widened. She pointed at herself with an exaggerated expression of surprise before laughing and waving.
That drew an amused reaction from the crowd.
At only twenty-two years old, Jennifer was already one of the most recognizable young actresses in Hollywood after the enormous success of The Hunger Games, released a few months earlier and approaching seven hundred million dollars at the worldwide box office.
Bradley simply smiled and raised a hand.
Chris did the same.
Finally, the broadcast crossed over to a section filled with red and gold.
[And, of course, USC brought some of their own as well.]
Snoop Dogg appeared first. He didn't need to do much.
The moment his face appeared on the screen, a large portion of the USC fans started shouting.
Snoop responded by flashing a hand sign toward the camera.
Then Will Ferrell appeared, dressed entirely in Trojans colors, since he had graduated from USC.
He immediately raised both arms, drawing a loud ovation from the visiting section and a wave of playful boos from much of the rest of the Rose Bowl.
Ferrell seemed to enjoy the latter even more.
The camera moved on to another suite in that section and found Rob Kardashian, also a USC graduate.
He wasn't alone. Around him were Kim Kardashian, Kris, Kendall, and Kylie.
Rob, of course, was wearing Trojans colors.
Kris had also fully embraced the atmosphere of the game, while Kim smiled toward the camera when she realized they were on the screen.
Kendall, seventeen years old, gave a quick wave, looking a little nervous.
Kylie beside her did the same.
The USC sections responded loudly.
A few boos came from the rest of the stadium.
Brent let out a small laugh, [I think we can already determine which side that family is on this afternoon.]
The camera changed once again. This time, it found Chandler.
For a second, he didn't even realize it.
He was talking with Ross when he noticed several people around him starting to point upward.
He looked up and saw his own face taking up a huge portion of the Rose Bowl screen.
Chandler smiled, first holding up six fingers between both hands before quickly changing to seven.
Six and seven. His prediction.
The reaction was immediate.
A huge part of UCLA's student section erupted.
"PRO-PHET CHAND-LER!"
The chant began in one section.
Then another picked it up.
"PRO-PHET CHAND-LER!"
Within seconds, thousands of voices were repeating it.
Chandler flashed the six again and then the seven. As if he needed to make absolutely clear that he wasn't taking back a single point of that prediction.
[Looks like he has no regrets,] Kirk said.
He had thought Chandler might end up toning down that prediction a little as kickoff approached.
Sixty-seven to seventeen sounded different at nine in the morning.
It sounded much bigger when you had ninety thousand people in front of you and the opposing team warming up just a few yards away.
[I'd say he's doubling down,] Brent commented, amused.
Cam was watching Chandler with absolute fascination, "I like this guy."
Mitch glanced at him without saying anything. He was nervous about the game. He wasn't about to start talking about predictions when an entire nation and celebrities were watching the game largely because of his son.
In the USC section, the response was far less friendly.
Boos immediately poured down from the sections dressed in red and gold. But it was difficult to drown out the mass of UCLA students.
The broadcast finally moved away from Chandler and returned to the field.
The chant took a few more seconds to die down.
Mónica slowly let out a breath. As kickoff drew closer, nerves were beginning to overtake the fun.
Mónica looked at Chandler and said, "You know that if this doesn't happen, you're going to look pretty bad, right?"
Before Chandler could answer, Ross stepped in.
"And if UCLA loses..." he said, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, "...I think we'll have to run back to New York before the fourth quarter ends."
Chandler let out a small laugh. But this time, he didn't answer immediately.
Because he knew.
If UCLA won by three, five, or even more than ten, nothing serious would probably happen. People would still see him as the strange, funny guy who had spent the entire season supporting Andrew and the Bruins.
Maybe for a while they would remind him that he sucked at predicting exact scores and that was why he wasn't someone who actually knew football like Kirk and the people who worked on College GameDay.
Nothing more.
But if UCLA lost, that was different. Then another phrase would appear:
Announcer Jinx.
Love could turn into mockery and hate pretty quickly.
Chandler was perfectly aware of that, "I know..." he finally replied.
His voice came out more serious. For the first time all day, there was a slight hesitation.
He looked toward the field. Then toward the stands, and finally smiled again, "But I can't back down now. If this ship sinks, I'm going down with it."
"That doesn't sound very reassuring," Leonard muttered.
…
POV T.J. McDonald
The locker room was too quiet. That never happened before a game like this.
There was low music playing in the background, tape being ripped off rolls, coaches going over final instructions, and players talking among themselves.
But underneath all of that, there was something else. Tension. I could feel it, and this was my fourth year playing in this game.
I had been there for the last matchups against UCLA. We had won the last three. Last year, as a starter, I had been there for the 50-0. I still remembered that night. The feeling of absolute control.
For years, it had been us on top and them below.
Yeah, it was still a rivalry. Rivalries had cycles, and we were in one where we were always the favorites.
This week hadn't felt that way.
I looked around the locker room. There was more than enough talent. That wasn't in question.
We were good, and we had experience.
I was a senior. Barkley was too.
A lot of us had played big games in hostile stadiums and been through national spotlight nights.
But even that felt different today. UCLA was number three in the country.
We were five spots below them.
For the first time since I could remember playing in this rivalry, they weren't coming to challenge us.
We were the ones coming to challenge them.
The arrival at the Rose Bowl had made that clear.
The boos when we got off the bus had been brutal. I couldn't remember another trip here with that level of hostility.
Now, even inside the locker room, I could hear the noise filtering in from outside. Once we stepped into the tunnel, it was going to be worse.
I looked down at my helmet between my legs. The offense we were facing didn't help either.
Pritchett-Tucker, Shaq, Andrus Peat, Amari, Rice, Fauria…
Pritchett, the starting quarterback, a true freshman. At this point, it didn't matter anymore.
I didn't even think about that. Not after seeing what he had done against Oregon State, Arizona, and the Oregon Ducks.
More than forty touchdowns. The only quarterback in the country who had cleared that number, with only three interceptions.
I had watched enough film during the week to know it wasn't just inflated statistics.
So I wasn't underestimating him. In fact, I felt a certain amount of respect.
The kind of respect that comes when you know one mistake can change an entire game.
If we relaxed for one play, it could be over.
I remembered something Steve Rice had said that week.
A comparison that had sounded a little exaggerated. But the more I thought about it, the less ridiculous it sounded.
He had said that playing with Andrew was like having Bruce Lee on your side in a street fight. You could look around, see trouble everywhere, and still think: We're fine.
Because he was there.
I smiled without much humor at the memory as I looked at Barkley talking with the offensive coordinator.
I couldn't say the same thing about my quarterback.
It bothered me to think that. Matt was my friend. We had been teammates for four years. This was our last season before both of us entered the NFL Draft.
Him on offense. Me on defense. We had won and lost together.
I knew exactly how good he was and what he was capable of. His numbers were still excellent. But there were also thirteen interceptions.
More than four times as many as Pritchett and Klein.
Against Arizona, he had thrown three in a single game. Last year, he had finished the entire regular season with seven. That was what made it strange and worrying.
So even though I trusted him, it wasn't the same kind of trust.
Not that blind trust Rice seemed to have.
Besides Rice wasn't the only one who felt that kind of confidence in Pritchett. My brother, who started on the Bruins' defense, thought practically the same thing based on what we'd talked about during the week.
Tevin and I had gone at each other, of course. It was inevitable. USC against UCLA, older brother against younger brother, safety against safety.
We had spent a good part of the conversation throwing comments back and forth about who was going to end up humiliated by the end of Saturday, until at one point I told him I hoped he was ready to watch Marqise drive you guys crazy.
Tevin had laughed and, almost with pity, told me, "Good luck trying to stop Andrew."
He had said it with a calmness that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
Not like a taunt. Like he was simply pointing out something obvious.
And when he saw my face, he told me that I only saw Saturdays.
My brother was a junior. A starting safety. He wasn't some impressionable kid who got carried away.
And it wasn't just him. The offense had more than enough proven talent. He wouldn't have been able to come back against Oregon if he were surrounded by ordinary teammates.
"All right, everyone, it's time!" the head coach, Lane, said.
The conversations began to die down. It was time. I stood up. Around me, everyone else did the same.
We started walking toward the locker room exit.
The noise grew louder with every step until we entered the tunnel.
The light from outside filtered in from the end.
Finally, we stopped just before coming out. I was at the very front with Matt. We looked at each other for a second. There wasn't much that needed to be said.
Four years as teammates and our final UCLA-USC game. Behind us, the rest of the team was jumping, shouting, and banging helmets together.
We waited for the signal.
"Let's welcome this afternoon's visitors... the USC TROJANS!"
Then we took off, the first ones to hit the banner. The fabric gave way and we burst onto the field.
The response came immediately.
From our section, the USC fans exploded into cheers and applause.
The Trojan Marching Band began playing loudly, trying to overpower the rest of the stadium while the cheerleaders held up the enormous red banner in front of the entrance.
The visiting section was considerable. Far bigger than at a normal road game.
But the Rose Bowl was completely full. More than ninety thousand people. The overwhelming majority wore blue and gold. It was still Bruins territory.
The boos came down on us the moment we appeared.
Seventy thousand people, maybe more, trying to drown out any sound coming from our section.
I kept running behind Barkley while several teammates raised their arms toward the USC fans.
The cheerleaders shouted and went through their routines.
The band played.
Our people answered with Fight On. But above everything else, the boos, whistles, and shouts continued.
We finished crossing the field and headed toward our sideline. I stood there for a few seconds, still wearing my helmet, breathing slowly.
Then the noise began to change. Not disappear. Tighten. As if the entire stadium knew the moment they had been waiting for was coming.
On the other side of the field, the UCLA band began getting ready. There were far more of them than our band, and they had an enormous presence behind the home sideline. The instruments began rising one after another.
The cheerleaders also moved into position in front of the tunnel.
Blue and gold flags.
Pom-poms raised.
Everything ready.
Then the speakers came alive again. The announcer's voice thundered across the Rose Bowl.
[AND NOW...!]
The stadium answered before he could finish. A short, expectant roar.
[LET'S WELCOME TO THE FIELD...!]
The UCLA band raised their instruments. The cheerleaders started jumping.
I turned and stared straight at the home tunnel.
[YOUR...!]
The noise began to build.
[UCLA...!]
You could barely hear the announcer anymore.
[BRUINS!]
The stadium exploded. The band came in all at once, the stands rose to their feet. More than seventy thousand people screaming at the same time.
I kept my eyes locked on the tunnel. There was no banner, nothing in front of it. Just darkness. For a second, I couldn't see anyone.
Then there was movement. A silhouette, just one, walking out from the center. The sunlight reached the helmet first. Then the shoulders. Then the chest.
And that's when I saw it.
19.
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