Just a Game?

So when I was somewhere between three and five years old, I was already geared up for USC
Trojan Football. And the investment into my college football fan future didn’t come from my
parents. Dad was a Cal fan, and Mom hadn’t yet understood something clearly that would
later guide her to join her youngest son’s sports fanatic direction.
Nope, the midget t-shirts and sweatshirts and even the smallest letterman sweater ever worn
came straight from my big brother, Jay. And who knew the simple acts of brotherly love and
generosity would create gratitude that would span generations?
When I arrived at the LA scene, the Von Bulow fam lived close to the University of Southern
California campus and the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. Jay was ten years my senior, and
like my dad, loved sports.
56 th and Western had its mean streets moments. After Jay was forced to display some serious
high school sprinter speed (TWICE in one week) while avoiding classmates bearing
switchblades, we moved eastward into the country and Monterey Park. Back then, roosters
were alarm clocks. A little more rural and east of us, some cousins owned a chicken farm. We
were east LA County flyovers.
By the time I hit Junior High and threatened adolescence, I’d totally drunk the Cardinal & Gold
Kool-Aid. But by the time I was a high school senior, I was on the brink of throwing in the USC
towel. Back in The Day, we were guaranteed, at best, TWO televised games per year. And in
1965, even the UCLA game was blacked-out. The Trojans, up by two scores and on the brink of
going up by another and earning a trip to the Rose Bowl, lost to the Bruins in the final 4-minutes.
I was done. Seriously? I’m freakin 17-years old and having a meltdown. I ran straight to the local
market where Jay was a checker, and officially announced my resignation from all freakin things
USC.
Even without any counseling I managed to return to the Trojan fold just in time for OJ, national
championships, and maybe the best college squad ever during my undergrad years at Cal
State, LA, and dental school at…USC.
The Trojans became dominant, but one important fan who never wavered was missing. My
sports consigliere, mentor, personal marketing director, and best friend, Jay, died as I was
applying to various dental schools.
Our loving little family was devastated. Jay was only 31 years old. In a private moment with my
dad, I saw him weep for the first and only time in my life.
During my four years in dental school, I loved USC despite the dental school experience. I never
stopped being a Trojan honk, but didn’t attend a single game. I just didn’t have it in me to hang
out with classmates who, in my mind, were poor substitutes for an almost sacred experience
previously shared with my brother.
After a few years into private practice, the Trojans went into a prolonged slump. I saw all
the televised games and lucked into Coliseum tickets by way of a patient. For the first time in my
life, I never missed a home game. I found out there were women who enjoyed football as if it
were played at the Ahmanson. I also started having more football conversations with my cousin
Tony, an up-and-coming USC fanatic.

Then Coach Pete Carroll arrived. And everything changed. I joined Cardinal & Gold, and even
became a founding member of the spankin’ new and overdue Galen Center and USC Basketball. And there was a role reversal going on. I was old enough to have known Tony from birth; he was a damn smart toddler too (don’t spread the word but he could crawl directly to his mom and assume the diaper position as if reporting for duty.)
Tony’s dad worked at USC; two siblings attended the school tuition-free. But Tony, who could fix
practically anything on sight (much like his great uncle namesake) knew what he wanted: a job
and a family. He married Denise and became dad to five children. Cousin Tony became my
USC Football best friend; he was also without peers as a husband and dad.
In 2002, Tony and I made our first trip out to South Bend for the Notre Dame game. We stayed
in Chicago, dined in Little Italy, found Michael Jordan’s gym, and shopped Michigan Avenue (I
remember Tony making a purchase at Burberry for love of his life Denise.)
The bus ride from Chicago to Notre dame was an adventure, mostly because three high school
football coaches/Notre Dame fans controlled the bar at the back of the bus; and they were totally
committed to converting a busload of USC passengers. We left the bus armed with 6-packs and
an obnoxious attitude. USC lost.
As we had emerged from the tunnel for a first-time view of the legendary field, we were greeted
with the usher’s direct eye contact and, “Welcome to Notre Dame Stadium.”
I could sense Jay was watching. I could almost feel him lightly patting the top of my head, just
as he and dad would do when I was a little kid.
And the next year, Notre Dame visited the Coliseum. Tony had never seen USC beat Notre
Dame. When USC won 45-14, he couldn’t believe his eyes. When I mentioned my having seen
the Trojans dominate the Fighting Irish often when I was in college and dental school, he looked at me like I was a fossil.
USC went on to win 34 straight. Tony and I saw the “Bush push” and the loss that ended the streak
at the 2006 Rose Bowl game (the stadium, now a semi-effortless walk from my home) But I
think there were three of us who saw it all happen together.
Last Saturday night, USC defeated LSU 27-20 in a nationally telecast game coming from Las
Vegas and Allegiant Stadium. The Pac-12 Conference (and all the numerical variations of it) and
part of my DNA are gone. But it’s amazing how the behavior and actions of 20-year-olds on a
Sunday night can add some serious light to one’s life. 24 hours later, I was still smiling.
My first call went to Cousin Tony, who’s now on his own, with children leaving home and his
recent loss of beautiful Denise.
For some of us, sports can be more than a game, or a purchase from the Toy store. It can be
the guiding light to relationships and memories, that despite all the hard breaks life can deal,
give us some small gift to help make tomorrow something worth looking forward to.
For some of us, sports is more than just a game.