This Saturday will be the first time in my four years as a student here in Westwood that I won’t be going to the UCLA-USC football game.
And for some reason, I don’t really feel too bad about it.
I was at the Coliseum for the 66-19 rout two years ago, and I don’t know if I could sit through another game like that. I just can’t do it.
This year also marks the first year that I didn’t go to a single football game.
Why? I’m not really quite sure, but I have some ideas.
Maybe it’s because I don’t want to have to witness firsthand what happened two years ago. Maybe it’s because I’ve just become accustomed to the unbelievable success of other sports programs that I’ve had the opportunity to cover and watch in action.
But most of all, I think I have avoided stepping inside a stadium where the Bruins were playing because I just want to cling on to the last memory I have of watching UCLA football: 13-9.
I came unbelievably close to going to a game, but as I was walking toward the Rose Bowl, I turned around and drove back to my apartment to watch in the comfort of my own couch.
The same couch where I then watched Notre Dame handle McLeod Bethel-Thompson. And then Washington State get the best of the Bruins. And then there came the loss to Arizona.
I just grew accustomed to the losses piling up, and with each one, I realized that by going to games, I would be missing out on opportunities to watch much more competitive games on TV.
While students and fans were watching UCLA football losing to the Fighting Irish, I was yelling with joy.
Not because we were losing, but because I tuned in to watch one of the most exciting games I have seen this season, and it involved the Trojans getting picked apart by Stanford in the final minutes.
Now that I think about it, I don’t know which emotion was stronger: the feeling of utter glee when Mark Bradford made a spectacular catch with 49 seconds left to lift the 41-point underdog over the Trojans, or the feeling of complete embarrassment as I switched the channel back.
From that point on, I knew that any doubt I had about this team was justified.
Why wouldn’t it be?
Sure, there have been a list of injuries that extends longer than all the charges that ex-Trojan O.J. Simpson has faced in his life, but something in me tells me that even if there weren’t as many redshirt players and walk-ons on the field, UCLA’s football team would still be in the same predicament.
Let’s just say I now regret taking the last two years for granted. 2005 was the year of ridiculous comebacks. A lot of them. And it never got old for a second. And 2006 was, like I said, the year of 13-9. Westwood went up in flames, literally.
But now I’m forced to face the truth. It’s 2007 and as much as I don’t want it to be the case, I have yet to go through emotions similar to those.
Maybe, just maybe, that will change on Saturday as I take my spot on the couch, perhaps regretting my decision not to go.
E-mail Behniwal at abehniwal@media.ucla.edu if you remember 27 points in about seven minutes against Stanford, or Maurice Jones-Drew’s five touchdowns against Cal in 2005.