Trojans Win! (in His Dreams)

Carson Palmer is hot.

He leads the USC offense quickly down the Rose Bowl field on its first possession against an overreacting UCLA defense. Three complete passes over the middle. Two screens. On third and five from the 12-yard line, he finds Billy Miller in the corner of the end zone, throws a perfect strike, sticks one finger into the sky.

Cade McNown is hit.

On UCLA’s sixth offensive play, Chris Claiborne breaks through the right side of the line around gimpy Brian Polak and hits McNown flush on the back of the head. McNown crumples. All of USC leaps.

Chad Morton is streaking.

Late in the first quarter, USC’s Morton runs past two confused linebackers, breaks for the sideline past two overreacting defensive backs, sprints 47 yards into the end zone as fallen Bruin defenders beat the ground.

Brian Poli-Dixon is stripped.

Running down the right sideline after catching a pass in the final seconds of the first half, UCLA’s Poli-Dixon is held up by Grant Pearsall at the USC five-yard line, just long enough for Rashard Cook to take the ball and wave it wildly at the dancing fans above the end zone

Paul Hackett is smart.

It’s halftime, USC leads, 14-0, and everything he has plotted for two weeks has worked. USC’s defense has intimidated McNown and his weapons, USC’s offense has picked apart an overmatched defense. No more mental baggage from that seven-game losing streak. No more aura of UCLA invincibility.

Bob Toledo is smarting.

Three trick plays for minus-10 yards and an intercepted halfback pass. No offensive adjustments to help wobbly McNown. No defensive calls that can rattle Palmer. No timeouts saved for that last drive.

Antuan Simmons is huge.

Early in the third quarter, the 5-foot-11 cornerback leaps through the line to block a 38-yard field-goal attempt by UCLA’s Chris Sailer. The ball is recovered at midfield, and five plays later Palmer coolly hits Mike Bastianelli across the middle from 15 yards for another score.

Jermaine Lewis is small.

The 5-foot-7 UCLA running back, after gaining 15 yards in 10 carries in the first half, is stuffed repeatedly in the third quarter by a swarming Trojan defense. On the final play of the quarter, he throws a ball at Sultan Abdul-Malik in frustration, and the penalty takes UCLA out of field-goal range.

R. Jay Soward is sneaky.

In the fourth quarter, after two McNown jump-ball heaves to Danny Farmer over Daylon McCutcheon close the gap to 21-14, sore-ankled Soward is in the game for only his fifth offensive play. UCLA doesn’t notice until he takes a handoff on an end-around and scores on a 21-yard sprint that ends in a chicken dance.

The Bruins are stunned.

As the final score of 28-14 flashes on the scoreboard, dozens of blue and gold uniforms drop to the ground in real and imagined pain. The biggest game in school history has been a bust. They have lost their national championship and city bragging rights in the same incredible afternoon.

I am nudged.

“Wake up. Wake up.”

“What? What?”

“You missed it. You missed everything.”

“I . . . what?”

“I’m the Rose Bowl doctor. You passed out. You were overcome with heat while sitting in those cramped new seats. Happened to a bunch of people.”

“I passed out? When?”

“Right after the opening kickoff.”

“What time is it now?”

“Like I said, you missed everything. You fell asleep in the first-aid room. Slept through the whole game.”

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I was . . . “

“I’ll tell you what happened. Cade McNown happened. He took over the game like a senior leader unwilling to let his team lose.”

“But wasn’t he hit?”

“All the time. The USC defense tried to take him out of the game. It didn’t matter. He kept getting back up and scrambling and throwing.”

“But I bet he didn’t get much help from his small running backs against that defense, did he?”

“Since when is DeShaun Foster small? He took over for Jermaine Lewis, ran wild behind the great UCLA offensive line.”

“What about when USC was on offense. Didn’t the Trojan quarterback pick apart the weak UCLA defense?”

“Mike Van Raaphorst? He never had a chance.”

“I meant the kid, Carson Palmer.”

“Oh, him? He was taken out midway through the second period. He scrambled out of the pocket, and Larry Atkins knocked him back to Orange County.”

“But didn’t UCLA’s defense eventually crumble? Didn’t Chad Morton run wild?”

“Sure it did, and sure he did. But it didn’t matter. Any time USC and Morton got close, Brendon Ayanbadejo or Pete Holland or Kenyon Coleman made a big stop. Just like they’ve done all year.”

“But how did UCLA handle itself under the overwhelming pressure?”

“What pressure? This is a team that has played, and won, 19 consecutive must-win games. After surviving Oregon and Stanford, they took the field smiling.”

“Wasn’t USC inspired by its role as the heavy underdog with nothing to lose?”

“Paul Hackett tried that trick, publicly downgrading his team and claiming it had only a ‘slim’ chance to win. Would have worked, except the Trojans took the field and realized he was right. The Bruins are in a different league.”

“So . . . “

“So the final score was UCLA 42, USC 20.”

“Oh, really.”

“It turns out, all those bandwagon jumpers who thought USC had even a snowball’s chance of winning were just dreaming.”