This side of Los Angeles is clearly Trojan territory.

And to a certain extent, that's why the fans were out tailgating at 6 a.m. There are no two other football teams located within such close proximity to one another that play each other so frequently and with such ferocity. Every year, bragging rights and the chance to ring the Victory Bell--the 300 pound trophy exchanged between the two--are on the line, and sometimes there's a little bit more. Today USC was fighting to claim its second consecutive Rose Bowl berth and the Pac 10 conference title.

Geoff and his party were the latecomers of their tailgating row. They rolled into the parking lot at 8:30 a.m. and although their bratwursts, Italian sausages, hot dogs, chips, dip and cookies were nothing to sneeze at, their spread paled in comparison to their neighbors. The parking lot was filled with everything associated with tailgates--grills, crimson-colored tents, flags, vegetable platters, plates stacked with meat--but then there were also the DirecTV dishes, the power generators, the chairs arranged in stadium-styled seating.

"People like to get out and party before this game," Geoff says. "The game is all about USC destroying UCLA. We don't need any more motivation than that."

A T.V. on a cart with bright orange cones on the end wheeled by.

"We are expecting a beat down."

Now, before I continue, I should point out that despite the fighting words of many riled up USC fans, UCLA and its fans in baby blue were out in full force--or as full force as a fan base can be when ticket allotments were cut. Pockets of blue stood out in the sea of red and Bruin backers quietly tailgated.

"There's great energy here," Barry, a UCLA fan, tells me.

"So there's a sort of respect between the fan base," I ask. I'm quickly corrected.

"Oh, there's no respect between USC and UCLA," he says. "I wouldn't say things are hostile, but let me just tell you this--each team wants to dominate. No one wants to see the game go down to the wire. Each fan wants to see his team win 54 to nothing. It's a matter of pure pride. You want to be the champ of L.A."

"Anyone who tells you that they want to see a game that goes back and forth is lying," a USC fan back at Geoff's tailgate says matter-of-factly. "They want to see USC destroy UCLA by 100 points. The best game we ever saw was when USC won 66-19."

I nodded my head as if I understood and bit into a bratwurst. It was time to scoot off and see how the tension was going to play out on the field instead of in the parking lot. And if a beat down of the highest order was scheduled to start in one hour, I wanted to be there for every minute.

USC fans strut their trivial stuff at an AT&T Technology Tailgate.


WATCH CLIP  

All of a sudden, faint chants of "beat the bruins" started working their way toward the students and alumni gathered, and soon, in the dark, between two buildings, the Trojan marching band started filtering onto the field. They marched in to clears and applause and soon the whole crowd was chanting along with them.

It was time for the Conquest.

An insult thrown at that other campus, sitting high up in the hills of Westwood and only a mere 14 miles away from campus, was a sure bet to get the crowd cheering. One by one, seniors from the women's basketball team, the men's volleyball team and the women's volleyball team took the stage. They went through the highlights of their seasons, the improvements fans could expect and thanked their supporters--but the crowd only broke out into the raucous applause normally saved for a football team when someone spoke of the season highlight--beating the UCLA Bruins.

Seems everyone at USC has a one-track mind.

By the time Pete Carroll--who looked very Hollywood in a leather jacket and baby blue shirt--and his Trojan football seniors took the stage, the noise and the cheers were deafening. They promised victory. They promised a Rose Bowl. They promised all the sorts of on-the-field annihilation that go with the rivalry territory. And I'm pretty sure that across town, at UCLA's own parade and pep rally, that the Bruin football team was promising the exact same thing.

"Burn the Bruin! Burn the Bruin!" someone decked out in the USC blood red and mustard yellow shouted. "Burn it!"

The crowd quickly turned and headed toward the bonfire piled about 10 feet high at the opposite end of the quad. Sitting atop it was a delightfully cartoonish Bruin bear cub--big eyes, a big black nose and a sly little smile. The time for ceremony was over. In came the flare, up went the flames and into the night air sparks shot high into the night.

And across town, the Bruins were setting up to light their own bonfire.

"You! There in the white shirt!" he yelled into a microphone--his voice was already quite horse. "Face me! Face me! Don't turn the other way!"

He started the number again, but only a few seconds passed before he was puffing into his whistle, stopping the band again and yelling at more sections to get their moves right. The only ones who seemed to nail it every time that night were the trombones--well, the entire left side of the band, in fact. The right side couldn't catch a break. They turned right when there was a left turn. They faced the stands when they were supposed to face the opposite way. Their music was off.

"You guys have got to memorize the music," Bartner implored. "You can't fake this! Again!"

There was a very real reason that this practice was so intense. Coming up Saturday was the last game of the season--last home game, in fact--and a game with definite post-season implications. If USC wins, it's a Rose Bowl berth. If they don't--well, no one is quite thinking about that yet. Oh, and there's more on the line. The Trojans are looking to avenge last year's loss to cross-town rival UCLA and successfully recapture the bragging rights that have eluded them for an entire year.

"You lose this game, you hear about it everywhere you go," many of the band members told us after practice, referring to last year as only "the unfortunate incident." So this year they are determined to win not only the game, but also prove themselves the superior marching band. And that means marching harder, with more physically demanding steps, great music, high energy and intensity and a good dance routine.

Wait--a dance routine? In a marching band?

Apparently the crowd loves it--and it's something UCLA doesn't have. And it's currently causing some less than fleet-footed trombones and trumpets a few problems. But no panic yet. Game day is still three whole days away, and after practice ended and many members had left, a small group met in the corner of the field to go over the steps.

You can't let the intensity drop--not when so much is on the line.

The odd thing is, as much as we hate hearing cliches, especially in the sports world, we love being a part of them. We love living them. Show me one person who wouldn't want to live out the underdog fantasy and I'll be absolutely shocked. Show me one person who doesn't want to be Stanford, a 40-point dog, when they beat USC or Appalachian St. when they beat Michigan. But those are just the long-odd stories. I can't say I'd complain with being Arkansas over LSU or even Illinois over Ohio State.

Maybe it's that pulling off the underdog cliche is rewarding. You sit in your corner and get told, "You never can. You never will. Give up and go home." Maybe being able to say, "I told you so," is so much a part of human nature.

Maybe it's just as easy as not being believed. Maybe it's not being recognized. You put in the work, you get your ass kicked around and no one sees that you're busting it just as much as anyone else. Finally, when you're on the field you spot that girl on the sidelines and say, "Don't I know you?"

It's the validation of effort that makes Rudy so special. When he wasn't given a chance, wasn't believed, wasn't recognized by anyone, he kept going and kept believing in himself. I think that's it. After all that work you prove to yourself that you're not a failure, that you could do it all along. And maybe that's the most important thing of all.

So, yes, I will hit that 13. And I'll have an eight.

USC and UCLA should be a great note to end the season on--but we've already compiled our list of season bests. Feel free to share your thoughts with us.

Best Between Quarter Entertainment: Three people rolling tires down the field at Nevada. At some stadium there were racing animated lawnmowers, boats at another and what I swear were racing fax machines (possibly printer/copier/fax machines), but nothing beats the real thing.

Best Game: The season started off with an overtime thriller at Mile High Stadium in Denver. Colorado topped Colorado State and absolutely nothing disappointed. Buffalo fans outside the stadium were ready to tell you exactly how to get a Colorado State fan off a porch ("Pay him for the pizza"), Colorado State fans were ready to leap to their team's defense and decry the lack of showering on the part of Colorado fans. But this weekend's matchup between BYU and Utah topped all that.

It's called the Holy War for goodness sakes. LaVell Edwards Stadium was filled to the brim with deep blue, making it all the more apparent where the bright red Utah fans sat (and all the easier to mock them). Teams were booed, there were little spats on the field, a punk BYU fan (he was 10) in a blue wig almost got in a fight with a 35-year-old Utah fan. Oh. And the game wasn't settled until the last 38 seconds of the fourth quarter. Now, that's a game that's tough to beat.

Object of Connor's Affection: Still Colt Brennan. It'll always be Colt Brennan.

Object of Caitlin's Affection: Brett Favre.

Best On-The-Road Discovery: In 'N Out Burger. You can get a chocolate shake, hamburger and fries for under $4. It's all made fresh. It's all delicious and wonderful and open until the wee morning hours. There's just no excuse to eat anywhere else.

Best Drive: Connor's currently exploring Vegas, so no one will contradict me with stating that the driving the long, winding, curvy road up California's coast to Santa Cruz was the best drive of the trip. Cliffs dropped off to the ocean and waves crashed against gigantic boulders to one side, and on the other were sheer, gigantic rock faces. Eventually the craggy cliffs gave way to slightly more gentle slopes covered in trees and flowers and the drive ended in the sleepy seaside town of Santa Cruz. It was great.

Best Food: The Hawaii tailgate at Hawaii/UNLV was tops as far as food brought to a parking lot is concerned. The best ribs imaginable, homemade sushi, sea urchin, dried tuna--it might only face a formidable challenge in the green and red chiles of New Mexico. Nothing has quite topped it--not the feast on board the Big Dawg, not the breakfast burrito I was handed outside Mile High Stadium--nothing.

Scariest On-The-Field Tradition: The hakka. Just watch it and tell us you aren't frightened.

Best Friday Ritual: It's either going to be a bonfire or a pep rally, but the sheer destruction of a bonfire trumps the crowd cheering and band playing at a pep rally. Sure, it's all great. But in the end, you aren't burning a 19-foot effigy of something--and that's how you get pumped up for games.

We are fast approaching 12,000 miles on the odometer, there may or there may not be a slight crack in the windshield and our car may or may not have never been washed in the past three months, and neither one of us has successfully memorized the opening to "Convoy." I've been yelled at three times in the press box for taking too many cookies (and four times have gotten a "honey, it's ok--more food'll be out soon"), Connor's only gotten hypothermia on the sidelines at one game and security has only ran after us once on a field. There's been 26 college campuses, 10 states, 14 football games and hundreds of interviews with players, coaches and fans.

Not a bad trip. Not at a bad trip at all.

2:45 minutes before kick-off: The BYU seniors are being announced and while there's a healthy amount of cheering from the fans in blue, it's nice to point out that the Utah fans are clapping along.

1:30 minutes before kick-off: No reciprocity from the BYU fans. As Utah runs out, the BYU fans let 'em have it.

15 seconds before kick-off: Tough to rate the coolest thing that just happened in the last minute. BYU performed the haka, just like Hawai'i ends their games. I'll have to ask Caitlin if she saw it on the sidelines. Meanwhile, three Apache helicopters just did a fly by of the stadium. Incredible pre-game stuff so far.

FIRST QUARTER

Kick-off: Louie Sakoda kicks off for Utah for a touch back. The kid has a rocket for a leg. Game on.

13:43: BYU quarterback Max Hall gets a pass knocked down at the line. The zebras blow the play dead but no one on the line of scrimmage seems to notice... or care. The shoving match broke up on its own, but it's a sign that this will be a heated game.

11:30: Just checked CSTV.com to see if any other college football coach had quit, resigned or gotten fired in the past hour. So far, no one new. I'll bet that changes by the half.

9:24: Big time interception by Utah's Joe Jiannoni. Utah takes over at BYU's 16-yard line. Gotta love those juggling interceptions. Could be the big play that starts the scoring here.

8:22: Elijah Wesson just got shellacked by BYU's Corby Hodgkiss. I mean de-cleated. This kind of hit sends you to the dentist for replacement teeth.

6:36: This game could end 6-3 if it keeps going like this. Utah's Brian Johnson hung a lame duck in the air and Hodgkiss made a great move to pick it off. He should have been off to the races but sometimes that grass will jump up and grab you.

4:15: The hits just keep on coming. There's been a brutal sack by the Utes' Keppa Gaison. Nasty shots to running backs and even the side judge has been taken out. It's clear that no one likes anyone here.

2:41: If turnovers were scores BYU would lead this game 2-1. A fumble on Utah's 35 gives the ball back to the Utes--they needed it. I need more pasta salad. I'm sneaking up there during the TV timeout. If this blog ends here, I've been thrown out of the press box for stealing food.

SECOND QUARTER

14:00: Dear Diary; Jackpot. There's tons of food left up there. I just made a kiling on pasta salad and pork wrapped in bacon. Oh yeah, still no score here. This game feels like a see-saw. No one's going anywhere, but there's still ups and downs.

10:00: There's a little bit of dialog between a Utah fan and a BYU fan right below me. Man, I wish I could read lips. I'll give it a shot.

Utah fan: My potato salad is so much better than yours.

BYU fan: Not a chance, my car a has a Hemi!

That can't be right.

7:42: Utah ties the game... the turnover game. Johnson throws another pick. The ball got deflected in the air and eventually wound up in BYU's hands. At this point, I want the game to end 3-0. It'd be historic.

4:47: Alright, points have been scored. Mitch Payne notches a 22-yard chip shot for a 3-0 BYU lead. Only two more field goals left in this game if my earlier 6-3 prediction was right. Note: It probably isn't.

3:50: Break out the razzle-dazzle. Utah tries a double reverse... which promptly gets blown up for a loss of five. Don't get the double reverse. Never have, never will.

3:11: First extra-curricular brewha to merit a yellow flag. Didn't look too physical so I'm guess any number of magic words were uttered. Again, I'm no lip reader but it looked like "farfignugan."

2:00: Guy next to me asks if there's any more food left. Thinking I can score more pasta salad I told him, "No." I hope he couldn't smell the garlic on my breath. After a big first down catch BYU tight end Dennis Pitta hands the ball to a Utah defender. Very "Cool Hand Luke" I thought, but in this league it's unsportsmanlike conduct and that costs you 15 yards.

End of the Half. BYU took a couple shots down field but couldn't quite get it working. 3-0 is your score. It's an exciting 3-0. The intensity of the game is palpable and the hits are huge. I'm lovin' it.

HALF TIME: They put the food away. I'm crushed. I really thought I could get to four plates of food today. In other news, I love when they bring someone out of the stands to kick a field goal for a lifetime supply of God-knows-what. This guy never had a chance. It took two false starts and he finally flubbed it just into the end zone. It was so short it reminded me of my chipping game.

THIRD QUARTER

13:45: The Utah offense that came out of the locker room is not the same. They're putting a great drive together here and have made it down to BYU's 24-yard line. They're mixing formations and play calls and moving the ball very well. If they score, they need to miss the extra-point to keep my prediction in play.

9:45: A big sack by BYU's defense keeps the prediction intact. Utah evens the ballgame in the stat that means the most. 3-3, tie ballgame. Jan Jorgensen got the sack, his second of the day. It makes 10.5 for him on the season which leads the conference. When this guy makes a sack, you hear it. The crowd goes nuts.

7:00: The BYU band has played everything from the "Imperial March" to "Keep 'Em Seperated." Gotta love the variety. I think I might have also heard the theme from TLOTR. That's "The Lord of the Rings" in case you're not a huge nerd-case like me.

5:23: Every school with a feline mascot has the same cat-like growl play over the loudspeaker for first downs. Maybe PETA issues the same tape to every school. I'll get back to you on that.

2:52: BYU got on the horse and mounts a solid 67-yard drive but is turned away without a touchdown. The running game worked well but Utah's corners made some great plays to keep the Cougars to a field-goal. 6-3 Cougars. According to my prediction, I should be able to pack up and start the drive to Vegas. Of course, if I was that good at predictions, I'd be in Vegas already with a million dollars already bet on this game.

1:17: Utah's having a real tough time here. They're backed up on their own 3-yard line courtesy of two straight offside penalties. The crowd is really getting into it and it's obviously hard to hear on the field.

FOURTH QUARTER

64,000 people just watched 3 minutes of TV together. I had no clue what was going on. Apparently, BYU had made a mini-series, which seemed to parody 24 or some show like that. It featured the Cosmo the Cougar, Rowdy Boscoe and Steve Young. There were helicopters, race cars and explosions. I'm going to need some time to figure out just what went on here. Fans were riveted. The stadium was silent. Even the press box stopped to watch. I guess I'll have to wait for the series to come out on DVD.

13:48: These Utah corners might be playing the best I've ever seen corners play in the red zone. Insanely tight coverage, no breathing room for receivers. They just turned away another BYU drive. The Cougars were forced to go for the field goal and they hit it; 9-3 BYU.

11:19: Jereme Brooks never wants Utah to run a flea-flicker again. The Ute's tried a reverse flea flicker--incredible, I know. Brooks was the intended receiver but when Johnson's pass sailed high, Brooks was leveled. Might have been the biggest hit of the game so far.

8:45: If BYU loses this game, they have no one to blame but themselves. Driving just inside Utah's 30-yard line BYU blew two consecutive chances to score. Both times, receivers ran block-release routes and both times they were WIDE open. An overthrow the first time and butterfingers on fourth and five cost the Cougars big time.

6:39: With four minutes left in the game, I have to head down to the field to finish up the game there. I'll fill in the rest after the game.

5:30: Utah is driving and I don't want to leave. I'm sure I'll be in the elevator for something big just like Art Rooney when he missed the Immaculate Reception. Such is life.

4:00: I'm heading down to the field because I have a feeling this game is about to get crazy. Stay tuned.

-------------------------------------END OF GAME-------------------------------------------

What a finish. What a finish! BYU pulled themselves out of the fire and chalked up another devastating blow to the Ute's. On BYU's last drive, they were helped out by the men in stripes. One call, an unnecessary roughness call was just that, unnecessary. There's no way that in a game this physical you call that penalty. The only gray area, and keep in mind we were on the field and unable to hear the call, is whether the defender led with the helmet. If he did, fine, but I think it was a bogus call. The second call was a pass interference call. They got that half right. If you look at the film, I think you'll see the receiver dragging the defender with him by the chest pads. Still, a great finish.

Any game that ends in the fans storming the field and the quarterback, in this case Max Hall, being carried off by the fans is a good one. We've got all the bedlam on the video, so make sure you check it out.

A little more is at stake in Saturday's game than just bragging rights. Both teams are sporting seven-game winning streaks, and BYU has won 14 straight conference games and is in a position to clinch the Mountain West conference title. But if Utah pulls off a victory in Provo--and the odds are stacked against them--they can claim a share of the title if BYU loses its last game to San Diego State. There will also be bowl representatives in the audience from the Poinsettia Bowl and the Las Vegas Bowl weighing the merits of inviting each team.

But first, some background before we head south toward Provo. The game has been played between the two schools since 1922, and Utah won the first six matchups by a margin of 186-13. In fact, BYU did not get its first win of the rivalry until 1942 and didn't win another game until 1958. But with the rise of BYU football in the 1970s and 1980s, the rivalry has become less lopsided, and Utah leads the series all-time with a 49-29-4 record.

A thirst for revenge is in the air, as well. Last year's meeting was full of theatrics, and BYU won on a last-minute touchdown pass after Utah had scored with 50 seconds left. That play has been played over and over again on ads for the Mtn cable channel, and seeing it incessantly has fired up the Utah players.

This is bound to be the most exciting weekend Provo has ever seen.

Well--according to the hotel desk clerk in Missoula, there might have been closer to nine or ten inches.

"I've never seen it quite like this," he said to me this morning as we both stood outside, staring at the tree branches weighed down by the snow. "At least not this early."

And considering where we've spent the last two and a half months, traveling through desert after desert, from ones covered in thorny bushes and cacti to ones filled only with rolling sand dunes, only to end up in southern California where it never rains and then to drive up to Seattle, where it rains a good majority of the year, snow came as quite a shock. Seasons began to take on a new definition (meaning that winter brings 70 degree weather and rain), a "cool day" suddenly was a day where the temperature was below 90 degrees (that's the way they define it in Tempe) and when I asked if anyone ever misses snow, I was looked at incredulously.

"Snow? I can just drive an hour or two and get snow in the mountains. I don't need snow in my front yard."

It's been quite the seasonal adapting for a girl who is used to wearing long underwear to football games and on the daily trek between classes. And at first I liked it--plants were still green when everything back home would be dried up and brown and dead. Rose bushes were still flowering. Leaves hadn't changed to brilliant reds and oranges and yellows before falling off and littering the ground. Everything was the same, except a little chillier at night.

But there's something about the first snowfall you see that makes it wonderful and poignant at the same time. The first time you realize that it isn't raining--that there are white flakes falling and floating on air to ground--is followed by the first time that you realize that sadly one season is ending and another really, actually beginning. Football season is nearing a close, and for many teams it has already ended. We've started dropping by more and more campuses where the focus isn't on the next game but on next season. We've seen lockers cleared out, seniors sneaking their jerseys as a memento, players thinking about what comes next in a life without football, playbooks put on file for next season.

Faster and faster the flakes fall as more teams and players join the ones already packing it in. And then, you wake up one morning, and everything is completely transformed. Covered in white. It's a new season.

And going into Saturday's game against Oregon State--a wild, wet contest played throughout spurts of downpours--it seemed like he would set some more. But sometimes Alex Brink has to settle for a tie.

He only threw six touchdowns Saturday--tying the school's record for interceptions in a single game.

"What's the school record for interceptions thrown by a quarterback in a game?" an older sports reporter asked of the press box. Everyone quickly flipped through their media guides as the rained poured down outside and Oregon State scored yet another touchdown off a turnover.

"Six!" someone shouted. "Six! And Brink's just tied it."

"Well, he is a record setter," the man sitting next to me mumbled.

I'm sure never in Brink's wildest imagination did his last home game resemble anything quite like this on the field. Going into the game, he was featured in a full-page spread in the school's newspaper leading up to the weekend and the fans in student section assured us that there will always be a "place in our hearts for Alex Brink." By the end, he was sitting on the wet, steel bench, having thrown an not-too-shabby 214 yards and going 21 for 45. But there were the six interceptions and no touchdowns, and an important matchup against the University of Washington Huskies looming on the horizon.

On the field, it wasn't supposed to end like this.

But as he walked off, there were the fans, leaning over the railings and calling out his name. They had braved the game, braved the weather and now were waiting for their quarterback. And he worked his way off the field, taking time to shake everyone's hands and wave.

On the field, the game couldn't have been worse.

But when it ended, there couldn't have been a better quarterback to walk off the field at Martin Stadium.

But probably not.

We made most of the trip along the expansive Snake River in silence, looking out the windows. "Rhapsody in Blue" came on in the car, and the music swells seemed to fit perfectly with the majestic scenery. I think we might have mentioned this before nearly every week in some way shape or form, but the landscapes are what make the roadtrip. Everything seems all right when you are driving 350 miles through wonderful wilderness--except for that long stretch of northern Nevada.

The Interstate eventually turned off into a two-lane highway, and for a few minutes, we could make out the smallish hills and canyons on our way to Pullman. But it quickly grew dark outside--pitch black by 6 p.m.--so all we had to look at were the oncoming brights of the cars in front of us.

And, of course, as soon as we crossed the state line into Washington, the rain started.

The oddest? Oregon State Beaver chapstick.

"Mmmm," Meridith Pyle says as she tries it for the time. "Tastes like Banana Boat."

Chapstick--now that was something we had never seen before. And we've frequented a fair amount of campus bookstores. I wouldn't go so far as to say we've seen it all when it comes to plastering a mascot and a team name on an object and selling it--but seeing a wooden carving of an Air Force falcon, school-fight-song-singing bottle openers, mascot-themed salsas, mascot golf club cover-ers and too many other items to name--kind of makes you want to say that you've seen it all.

There's something about the type of merchandise that carries a mascot or school colors. Each trip to a new college town tests the limits of taste and corniness (an Idaho potato with the Boise State emblem was a little over the top) and just how loyal one is to a team--I love the Wisconsin Badgers, but I'm not sure I want "On Wisconsin" tinkling away as I grab toilet paper.

Certain mascots lend themselves to being slapped on everything from pants to shorts to underwear to shot glasses to calendars (we saw the 'Ladies of UW' calendar at the University of Washington. I think some of the models were wearing T-shirts with the husky on it. Connor was just looking at it for the articles). And certain ones are more marketable than others. I couldn't get enough of Sparky at Arizona State, Connor loved Arizona's red, white and blue colors and the block 'A,' and we both agreed that nothing in the University of Oregon store could satisfy our hunt for the duck.

But we've had to limit ourselves. Me, I'm sticking to shot glasses--despite getting asked every where I go whether I need it wrapped or I plan to use it right away--and Connor to T-shirts (he got too many baseball hats).

Where are the limits for the avid collector?

"Oh, there are some things we won't buy," Meridith Pyle assures us. She never goes into details as to what exactly her and her husband's boundaries are. But there are some, somewhere.

It's been around forever. Since the early 1920's. It was the place for musicians and a number of performers of note have played. The front cover of the menu touts bands like Blues Traveler and legends like Stevie Ray Vaughn.

While Animal house was filming here in '77-'78, Taylors was the hang out for the cast and crew. I'm not sure whether John Belushi made a test run at downing and entire bottle of Jack Daniels at the bar, but I'm sure the prospect of such a feat was discussed, if not repeated. One thing is for certain, during a blues show at Taylor's, the idea for the Blues Brothers was born. The cast and crew of Saturday Night Live came up to check out how one of their favorites was doing and, according to Taylor's, Aykroyd and Belushi came up with the idea for the best Rhythm and Blues review band I've ever heard.

Taylor's has continued to be the place to be on campus. If you can't be in Autzen on a game day, or if the Ducks have flown south for an away game, you need to be in Taylor's. The players hang out there after the game and the good times, especially this season, roll all night.

If you need any more reason to visit, or even move to Eugene, try this. Taylor's is one of only six places in Oregon, and one of the only places in the Pacific Northwest, where you can buy Old Style Lager. The official beverage of the Chicago Cubs. I know this because I talked to the man who got it there. A resident of Eugene for just under a decade and a manager at the fine establishment, Justin, a Chicago native, moved to Eugene after randomly picking it out on a map. He doesn't plan on leaving.

For me, it was nice to see a little slice of home. Being Chicago-born and a die hard Cubs fan, being so far away and enduring the sweep has been tough. Taylor's isn't just home for an estranged Cubs fan, though, after only a few days, I could see it being home to anyone around campus. So, whether it's game day or just an idle Tuesday afternoon check out Taylor's. It's a true campus hot spot.

The first time we made the drive north through Oregon it was spectacular. The landscape was new, the fruit orchards, the vineyards, the fields growing unidentifiable clumps of green were intriguing (and sparked endless guessing games as to crop identification). The second time--driving south now--was slightly less wonderful but still picturesque (I believe we had a setting sun falling behind the mountains. However, I might have added that detail). The third time, well, it was just dark. And long. And endlessly monotonous.

Yet here we are again--Eugene, Oregon. The atmosphere is a little different than the first time we rolled into town. As soon as we crossed the border, nearly every gas station we saw had some sort of 'Go Ducks!' sign, and it is impossible to walk into a public place without seeing someone sporting the green and yellow. There's the kind of nervous excitement in the air that comes with being ranked at spot two in the BCS standings and knowing that it could very easily all be taken away--again.

In 2005, Notre Dame, ranked eight in the BCS standings and with a questionable 9-2 record (the records of their opponents were far below .500), was picked over Oregon, ranked seven and sporting a 10-1 record, to appear in the Fiesta Bowl. The Ohio State Buckeyes pummeled the Fighting Irish 34-20.

And way back in 2001, the Ducks were ranked at number two in both the AP Coaches Poll and the ESPN/USA Today polls, but were surpassed in the BCS standings by Oklahoma, shutting them out of the national championship game.

Now, we could go into a detailed, well-worded and well-researched article about the failings and flaws of the BCS system. But that'd be a lot to explain and would probably add little to the plethora of BCS critiques already floating around. And there's something about the energy in Eugene that you don't want to dampen--the kind of energy that surrounds a great program from a small town in a very un-football state that's just been thrust again onto the national stage.

But Oregon fans should be nervous, to say the least.

Best Game: USC v. Cal. It was a good one. Two of this year's knocked down teams locked in a battle to save face. It seemed like both teams were highly motivated to not screw up. Sometimes that's the best motivator. Forget about a No. 1 ranking, or even a Pac-10 championship, these guys were fighting for their honor. It didn't hurt that Chauncey Washington put on a show by rushing for 220 yards. There were fumbles, interceptions, long passes (see Nate Longshore to DeSean Jackson for 41-yards)... just fun to watch.

Best Hotel: Boise, ID has a hidden gem in The Grove hotel. Bottom line: There was a bathrobe in the closet and I wore it... a lot.

Best Boat: OK, fine. We admit that this category is only in here so that we can give another shout out to The Big Dawg. If you haven't seen our video on sailgaiting while we were in Washington, check it out.

Worst Drive: Can't do a list of "Best's" without comparing the "Worst's." On our way to the game in Fresno we ran headlong into the worst traffic ever. Two accidents on the road--one semi-trailer had jackknifed into an acute angle I never thought possible--and a handful of stadium attendants who had no clue where the media lot was, along with the roads next to the stadium being blocked off in the most ridiculous way did not help. Then again, maybe it was us. Maybe we were just cranky.

Best City: Winnemucca, NV. You've gotta see it to believe it. The charming highway nature and "just-off-Vegas" locale make Winnemucca a perfect spot for a getaway of any kind. Clearly, we jest. Look up Winnemucca on a map. If you can find it, you'll get the joke.

That's it for the Best's and Worst's. We're on our way to Washington State. We'll keep you posted.

On our way back to the media lot, I discovered I had two major needs. First, I needed to raise my core temperature above 45 degrees. Apparently I shouldn't have driven home as the involuntary shivers coursing through my body were causing the car to dance in the lane. Secondly, I needed to eat. The spread in the press box was good, but since it's mostly outside and since six hours of rain has a way of penetrating anything, I wasn't seeing a soggy steak sandwich as a viable option.

Once we got back to the hotel, I fired up the shower. I thought about calling for pizza but since my hands were shaking to badly, I was unable to hold my cell phone and read the numbers at the same time. So, after turning the bathroom into a veritable Russian steam bath, my body temp returned to normal. Now, it was food time.

I was about to call Caitlin to see if she wanted to go eat when I remembered that she had told me she was heading back into campus to hang out with friends. This meant the car was gone. No big deal. In our hotel room was a menu for a 24 hour delivery service. I called the number and was placed on hold for 10 minutes. I hung up the phone noticing that it was almost 10 o'clock.

My next bet was to call for pizza. There is no time limit on pizza. Where I went to school, you can order a pizza at four in the morning and they don't bat an eye-- they ask if you want the early-bird special. Apparently, this is not the case in Berkeley. I called six local pizza joints and each reacted as if I had asked for their life savings when I requested a large pepperoni and sausage.

I finally stumbled across a chain place at about 10:25. I figured this would work fine. It's a chain, these places have nothing to do but sell pies. I'm all set. Not so fast.

Pizza Delivery Chain Employee: Thanks for calling my name is , how can I help you?

Me: Hi, I'd like a pizza for delivery?

PDCE: Sure, can you please hold?

Me: Sure.

<90 seconds later>

PDCE: Thanks for holding. Is this for delivery or pick-up?

Me: For delivery.

PDCE: Sorry man, we actually can't deliver anymore since we close in like, two minutes.

Me: Alright, well, how about for pick-up?

PDCE: Uh... We're actually all out of dough and stuff. So, there's nothing I can do for ya.

Me: Lemme get this straight. You put me on hold just to tell me that you can't give me any pizza then gave me two options, neither of which were actually available?

PDCE: Uh, basically yeah...

Me: So is it just me that see the problem here or do you get what's going on, too?

PDCE: Listen man, I got other customers...

Me: Oh, you mean other customers you can't give "dough and stuff?"

I was angry... and hungry.

I ended up walking over to the 76 station and eating a gas-station dinner. I should have just gone to bed.