"The Rose Bowl Wins Again"
By Judy O'Sullivan
The Rose Bowl Game and Rose Parade entwine like a garland of roses. But
sports fans around the globe who yawn their way through Jan. first's floral
extravaganza, stay wide awake come game time.
The is the "Granddaddy of All Bowl Games--80-plus-years-old and still kicking.
Every major bowl game traces its lineage back to Pasadena. For more than half
a century the Rose Bowl Game has been a simple do-or-die play-off between the
PAC-10 and the Big Ten.
It's very straightforward. College teams representing the West and the
Midwest vie for the championship and only grumpy fans truly care who wins
by the time the post-party ends--be it celebration or wake. (The conferences
are tied 25 games each.) What counts, whether you're in the stadium or an
armchair, is enjoying the day, the game, the Goodyear blimp, the Royal Court,
the bands, the sunshine and if you're lucky the attar of roses.
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For going-on 83 years this gridiron classic remains constant in the
otherwise confusing world of post-season match ups where even games and
corporate sponsors get confused. But Pasadena's annual pigskin contest
hasn't always been this easily defined.
The first time the Tournament of Roses tried football in 1902, the event
fell short like a badly thrown touchdown pass. Touted as an East vs.
West play off, Coach Fielding "Hurry Up Yost" and his boys in blue from
the University of Michigan pulverized Stanford 49-0 at Tournament Park
on property now belonging to Caltech. Surrendering to the Wolverine
captain, the gentlemanly Stanford captain said, "If you are willing,
we are ready to quit." (With a bone fracture in his leg, Teddy Roosevelt's
second cousin played guard for Stanford.) Fourteen years passed before
western teams felt like taking on another cross-country foe.
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Then a rash of football fervor broke out in the east and midwest and the
Tournament Association hated sitting around twiddling their thumbs
waiting for an invitation to join the fun. They just knew they could
organize a better competition than anybody east of the Rocky Mountains.
Couldn't argue with the Southern California climate. The association
organized a well-planned day, again at Tournament Park, with ample
"bleacher seating." Ironically it rained.
Only 8,000 turned up to watch William "Lone Star" Dietz lead Washington
State to a 14-0 win over Brown. Undaunted, Dietz paced on the sideline
clad in top hat, striped pants, swallowtail coat, spats and cane. Brown
guard Wallace Wade said, "We were overconfident and took the game as a
lark, even attending the parade first." The association lost $11,00 due
to the nasty weather.
They shrugged and carried on. The following year, Jan. 1, 1917, dawned
sunny and mild. Balmy. Perfect football weather. Over 25,000 eager
fans angrily protested a lack of comfortable seating. Oregon defeated
Pennsylvania 14-0. The west could hold its own. And more importantly,
draw crowds. It was time to build a stadium.
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The wealthy civic fathers hired famed architect Myron Hunt suggesting
he design a copy of the Yale Bowl. The site? The wild and rocky Arroyo
Seco--a dump site full of bootleggers booty and rusted-out cars, a stone's
throw from Suicide Bridge. The local business and professional leaders
actually traded Tournament Park for this worthless land and were
called "foolish."
The association put together a financial package by pre-selling
subscriptions, 210 box seats for $100 each guaranteed the first
ten years. An additional 5,000 seats provided another five. When
finished, the bowl was deeded to the city, which then leased it back
to the association for the annual game.
Hunt, a popular member of The Valley Hunt Club which he also designed,
was busy changing Pasadena's cityscape. The former La Canada Biltmore--now
Flintridge Sacred Heart Academy, Polytechnic School, Five Acres Boys'
and Girls' Aid Society residences, the Huntington Art Gallery and
Library and Occidental College are his. He worked with Elmer Grey
of Pasadena Playhouse fame on the latter two. But it was the stadium
seen round the world that brought Hunt international acclaim.
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Hunt gave Pasadena an eternal bouquet with the Rose Bowl. The graceful
structure, silvery in the sunlight, the name scripted in green scrawl
beneath a giant rose, is one of the most recognizable signature-stadiums
around. Built in 1922, based on Greek models, construction followed an
elliptical design that permitted undisturbed sight lines from each of the
original 57,000 seats (almost double now). The final cost ran slightly
over budget at $272,198.26.
Most everyone tells a Rose Bowl story. In 1925, Notre Dame, coached by
Knute Rockne, with the legendary "Four Horsemen" defeated Glenn "Pop"
Warner's Stanford team 27-10. The fighting Irish attended early mass
before the game at St. Andrew's and "prayed for victory"--an unfair
advantage according to some Stanford fans, presently senior citizens.
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"Wrong Way Reigels," Roy Reigels of Cal Berkeley recovered a fumble and
ran the wrong way in 1929. Dubious immortality
Now home to the UCLA Bruins for almost 16 years, the Rose Bowl hosted the
1932 Olympics and provided a soccer site for the 1984 Olympics.
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A state-of-the art addition, a three-level Press Box with 38 luxury-seats
attracted the 1993 Super Bowl, and 1994 World Cup Soccer. (Not to mention
numerous rock concerts.) The Press Box spans the length of the football
field and features 22 executive-suites, 14 club-suites and a fully equipped
press area, accommodating 1,100 on the three levels.
The Rose Bowl, despite face-lifts, continues to mean down-home college football at
its purest to loyal fans and millions of international TV viewers each New Year's
Day. Truly, a rose by any other name is the memorable stadium in Pasadena's
now park-like Arroyo Seco.
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