Putting on a happy face for the folks from Happy Valley

Good morning, Nittany Nation.

On behalf of the humble metropolis of Los Angeles (“The City That Never Sweeps”), we’d like to welcome you to the 2009 Rose Bowl, a day you will remember, even if last night is still a total blur.

Our goal? To make you feel at home here. If it helps, just think of L.A. as Scranton by the Sea. Or the Valley Forge of Chin-Tucks.

By now, you’ve probably discovered our region’s crown jewel, Pasadena. It is a great town, particularly for people who have trouble chewing. Pasadena’s icon is a little old lady in a garden hat screaming at an ATM. “WHERE’S MY STAMPS? WHERE’S MY STAMPS?” Seriously. If these women ever get their mittens on Coach Joe, alert a priest.

Listen, you’re in for a very special day. To start it off, the locals usually put on a little parade down the boulevard. They build the floats out of the cheapest materials they could possibly find: roses. Later, in the afternoon, we’re hoping you can join us down in the glen for a friendly game of tackle football.

Your opponent today will be USC, a scrappy school from the tough side of town. They have Song Girls who never sing and a giant white horse that never poos. It’s a fairy tale, really. The University of Camelot.

By the way, before you go, perhaps someone can explain exactly what a Nittany is? To us, it sounds like some sort of champagne cocktail they drink at the Jonathan Club. Or, more likely, a pet name for Grandma.

Don’t worry, we won’t be judgmental; that’s not our way. For instance, those black and white uniforms of yours? You look like soccer balls. You look like a newspaper from 1952. We don’t care. To us, it’s what’s inside the ugly/boring uniform that counts.

Besides, did you know the Trojans were once known as the “Fighting Methodists”? No kidding.

These days, the USC team is better known as the Trojans. They are led by a 26-year-old by the name of Pete Carroll, a gregarious lad with Merv Griffin hair. He employs a swarming, Busby Berkeley-style defense. You’ll like it, especially if you’re into over-the-top musicals.

One more favor while you’re here. Please don’t confuse our ironic detachment for smug indifference -- everybody does. In fact, Angelenos are an extremely warm people. When his meds are right, that Jack Nicholson is one of the nicest dudes ever. And De Niro? A big cupcake. He’s planning on taking you to the airport in the morning, if that’s OK.

Indeed, as a sign of our limitless hospitality, we have put together this USC scouting report, which I will share with you now:

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USC defense

On any given play, here’s what happens: First, the opponent snaps the ball. Then all hell breaks loose and Trojans defenders scramble to recover. Just when you think you might finally make a first down, the Trojans swoop in using their supreme athleticism to make an amazing play.

I’ve seen it a million times, and I’m still not sure how they pull it off. Every play is like a prank. Honestly, one of the great defenses in the country blows more assignments than your lazy nephew Irving.

Be especially aware of this young fella Rey Maualuga. He’s Tarzan with more hair. He’s the swamp creature you feared when you were a little kid. “There’s no such thing as monsters,” your mom used to assure you.

Till now.

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USC offense

On offense, the Trojans haven’t been the same since Reggie Bush entered the witness protection program near New Orleans. Despite some 45 running backs on the roster, none of them seems to bust anything loose on a regular basis. Tailback Joe McKnight has more wiggle than Beyonce. Yet, he drops more balls than Dick Clark.

For big plays, the Trojans mostly rely on quarterback Mark Sanchez. Good kid, Sanchez . . . plays with the gusto of a guy going for the intramural championship. His favorite play is rolling right, in a big looping circle that takes him halfway to Utah. Really, the kid needs a GPS. He has the turning radius of the QE2.

And a gun that can reach Afghanistan.

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Special teams

Oh, you want to know more about those Song Girls? No, they don’t sing. They hardly even cheer. Personally, I’m not exactly sure what the world-famous USC Song Girls do.

“Sing something! Sing something!” I’m always yelling, and they just stand there smiling for the sideline cameras, which they seem to wear around their necks like charms.

Other players to watch? Well, there’s that horse. The Trojan horse. For breakfast, they feed him freshmen.

Then there’s that humongous marching band, which performs one song over and over till your forehead folds in on itself. Back in your parents’ day, the USC band played on a platinum album (“Tusk”). Hence, the shades and the groupies.

Hope this helps a little. Yes, Nittany Nation, you’ve come to a very special place. Camelot . . . but with more burger joints and better freeways.

So, go ahead, sing.

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chris.erskine@latimes.com