Seventeen years ago, my team went to and won the Granddaddy of them All. Among the hundreds of thousands of spectators were my parents, who attended the festivities with my dad's side of the family. Upon their return to the heart of the Midwest, my sister and I were regaled with stories of the famous parade and the amazing game in which our boys prevailed against the hometown Bruins of UCLA. We were gifted with teal and yellow UCLA pompoms and enjoyed immensely the entertainment that they provided for the next several days. The game and the ensuing victory were a big deal - it had been decades since their last Rose Bowl appearance, and it was the very first win by our alma mater.
Looking back on the week following my parents' return from Southern California, I am certain that I felt a bit left out of all the hoopla surrounding the bowl game. My sister and I were very young and understandably, too young to attend the festivities and instead stayed home with my aunt and uncle. I'm fairly certain that this "left out" feeling contributed to the conversation my father and I had not long after they arrived back in Wisconsin.
"Do you think they'll [the team] ever go back to the Rose Bowl? And do you think that we'll get to see them there?" I said.
"I tell you what," my father began. "If they ever go back to the Rose Bowl, I'll take you there with me."
Little did my father know that our team would go back just six years later. Little did he also know that our team would go back the following year as well! And as I recall those incredible back-to-back Rose Bowl runs, I know that I was much too young to have appreciated the experience at that time. Our boys played in Pasadena on New Year's Day 1999 and 2000, and, understandably, we were not there to root for them. It was, quite simply, not the right time.
Fast-forward to fall of 2010, when perhaps the best football team our alma mater has ever had enjoys a thrilling run to the conference title. Over the course of a few short weeks, we witnessed our boys upset the #1 team in the country, score 70+ points on more than one occasion, and be gifted with bright red roses following their final victory of the season. A week later, it was decided: they would return to Pasadena, to the Granddaddy of them All.
And now, more than ever, I wanted desperately to be there. Sometimes there come these unique opportunities in life, where one wonders, "will this ever happen again?" I know that those types of thoughts were running through my head as tickets went on sale, travel packages sold out, and it appeared as though every person in my fair state was headed to California without me and B. I remember the night after our boys formally accepted the invitation to play in the Rose Bowl that I fell asleep with tears in my eyes, afraid that once again my team would go to Pasadena and I would be in Wisconsin instead, rooting them on from afar. (I realize all of this probably sounds insanely self-centered, and I'm not quite sure I can word this in a way that won't sound remarkably selfish. Bear with me.....)
The next day, my dad called me. He inadvertently secured four tickets to the Rose Bowl, two more (obviously) than he and my mom needed. He phoned that night to call in his chips on the promise he had made 17 years earlier. It was time to go to Pasadena. B and I had to promise a whole host of things: a victory and our firstborn son, for starters. After we scoured the internet for reasonable airfare out of Chicago and a cheap hotel in the greater LA area, it was decided: we were going to Pasadena!
And 24 days later, a lifelong dream came true, and we went to Pasadena to cheer on our boys, who fought valiantly against the Horned Frogs but were unable to return victorious. It was a gift, borne out of the incredible generosity of my parents, for which I was and remain exceedingly grateful. Regardless of the outcome and despite the score not being in our favor, it was an amazing 36 hours, and an experience I won't soon forget.
When we received these during our family Christmas, it all became amazingly real: we were actually going to Pasadena!
We're HERE!
On New Year's Eve, after a four-hour bus trip to Chicago, a four-hour wait in the airport, and a four-hour flight, we arrived in the City of Angels, around 11:30 local time. After we rented a car, drove 40 minutes northwest to our hotel, needless to say, we passed out. Fast-forward to Saturday, when we rose bright and early, grabbed breakfast, and sped off due east to Pasadena, cruising the Ventura Highway and giving the thumbs-up to fellow Badger fans on the road around us. In the picture above, we're at the Rose Bowl official tailgate - about four hours before kickoff, soaking it all in.
The view from my parents' seats, about 45 minutes before kickoff. Exceedingly surreal.
The best band in the land!
Traditionally one of my favorite parts of the Rose Bowl - the sun setting late in the game, paired with the view of the San Gabriel Mountains to the north of the stadium.
Sad, sad, sad Badger. We were bummed about the outcome (they came so close!), but dancing around to the Fifth Quarter songs with the band was a welcome consolation and a great way to leave the stadium! One of my favorite memories was of the student section chanting "Go Pack Go!" as the Fifth Quarter ended - Green Bay was to play Chicago the next day for the right to be in the playoffs. Looking back on it, it was a great rallying cry to an amazing playoff run by the Green and Gold! :-)
The iconic south facade, all aglow as we departed the stadium. Miraculously, after a 20-minute walk around the bowl and a quick intercessory prayer to St. Anthony to help us locate our car, we found it, with little searching involved!
Fast-forward to about 26 hours later: following the game, we located our car, crawled with the rest of traffic on Linda Vista Drive toward the Ventura Highway, and then battled that crazy Los Angeles traffic back 40 minutes due west to "our" suburb for the night. After a glorious stop at Red Robin (we were RAVENOUS), and a quick stop at a grocery store for a few breakfasty items for the airport the next morning, we arrived back at the hotel and passed out, only to wake around 3:00 local time, fill up with gas, and drive the 40 miles back to LAX. After a 6:00AM flight back to Chicago, a four-hour return bus ride home, Holy Mass for the Feast of the Epiphany, and dinner, B all but passed out on our couch as we waited for my parents' plane to land at the local airport.
And, as quickly as it began, our whirlwind 36-hour trip to "Wisconsin West" - the Granddaddy of them All - had come and gone.
On Wisconsin :)
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