When you think Rose Bowl, you think football and lots of beautiful things … like roses … but remember to appreciate what’s under the players’ feet.
En route to the Granddaddy of them all – When the edifice that is the Rose Bowl fills my view on New Year’s Day, the sightseer in me won’t be satisfied just yet.
Checking another iconic sports venue off the bucket list won’t be my first thought.
The San Gabriel Mountains might take my breath, but that’s not the beauty I most want to see.
Veteran columnist Jeff Gilbert writes Ohio State football and basketball for Press Pros Magazine.com.
Before entering, I will walk around the stadium, admire it and reminisce. I will keep a promise to my mom and take a selfie next to the newly erected Archie Griffin statue.
I will enjoy the warm air and blue skies. I will stand on California soil for the first time.
I will be fully aware that I am here to watch Ohio State and Oregon play an important football game. When the rematch of Big Ten foes is finished and the winner is bound for the Cotton Bowl, I will write something that attempts to capture the pageantry and the promise or pain the outcome provides.
But throughout my frontal lobe, I will be thinking and planning for the moment I first see the end zones.
Yes, the end zones.
Those gloriously lush Rose Bowl end zones flush with school colors and big bold letters with the names of this year’s combatants. Nothing on a field of play anywhere in the wild world of sports comes close to those end zones.
Roll your eyes at me if you will. I will have my nerd moment.
Up until 45 minutes before kickoff, media types can be on the field. I will walk on the real grass, and unless a security guard stops me, I will walk into the end zone, take a deep breath and pretend I am barefoot.
I wonder. Who designs and paints those marvelous 10-yard canvases every year?
The stadium website lists Miguel Yepez as Field Superintendent 1. He must be in charge of the end zone painter. But I want to know who the actual Rose Bowl Rembrandt is. In the field maintenance industry, this must be a job to aspire to and a resume enhancer.
If I see anyone who looks the part of a field maintenance employee while I stroll the sidelines and gaze at the end zones, I will ask: “Who paints the end zones?” If I meet the artist, I will ask many questions and report my findings.
I know I’m getting carried away, so I do promise to enjoy the picturesque beauty of the entire scene. I will snap photos on my phone and send them to a slew of group texts. Those are the modern-day postcards.
They will thumbs-up and heart the photos. Some will comment in jealous tones. Some will acknowledge the awesomeness of the scenes with “WOW” or something equally exclamatory.
If you are fortunate to be at the game, soak it all in. Notice everything.
If you must watch on TV, like I have since the early 1970s, until now, appreciate the HD view.
Watch the parade. Enjoy the game. Celebrate Ohio State touchdowns. Boo Oregon touchdowns.
Victory for the Buckeyes isn’t promised, but as the song goes…..
Seems it never rains in southern CaliforniaSeems I’ve often heard that kind of talk beforeIt never rains in CaliforniaBut girl, don’t they warn ya?It pours, man, it pours………..(song by Albert Hammond, Mums Reords, 1972)
Ryan Day’s student-athletes will create every opportunity to reign as Rose Bowl champions once again.
And remember, amid the hoopla and mountain vistas, to gaze at those gorgeous end zones.
The Dave Arbogast family of dealerships is the official transportation source for Press Pros Magazine.com.