Chapter 335: Another record

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Paige was in her UCLA dorm room.

There were about three hours left until noon.

At twelve, the game between UCLA and Washington State would begin.

She was sitting at her desk, on the side of the room that belonged to her. Her bed was only a few steps away.

There were books, a few sheets of paper, and her laptop on the desk, although at that moment all of her attention was focused on a book she was holding in her hands.

She turned the pages at a speed that would have made anyone wonder whether she was actually reading.

She was.

That was simply her pace.

On the other side of the dorm room, Sam was sitting at her own desk.

The contrast between the two of them was fairly obvious.

Paige barely needed to stop.

Sam had several highlighters open, notes scattered around her, and moved much more slowly, underlining sentences and writing small comments in the margins.

At some point, she checked the time.

Then she turned her chair to look at Paige, "Are we going?" she asked.

"We still have time," Paige replied without looking up from the book.

"I don’t know... traffic is going to be insane," Sam said, making a small grimace at the thought, "I love the stadium, but why is our stadium so far away?"

UCLA was fairly unusual in that regard.

The campus was in Westwood.

The Rose Bowl was in Pasadena.

More than twenty miles separated the two places.

There was none of that fairly typical college experience of leaving the dorm, crossing part of campus, and walking to the stadium ten or fifteen minutes later.

For UCLA students, going to a game required some planning: transportation and time.

USC, for example, had the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum practically attached to campus.

Sam, at least, had a car.

She had already driven to Pasadena several times to watch the games. She also knew perfectly well what doing it on a Saturday meant. With traffic, the drive could easily turn into fifty minutes or more.

Then came finding parking. That was an entirely different battle.

If they left now, they would probably get there around ten. Maybe a little later, depending on how long it took them to park.

On paper, arriving almost two hours early seemed excessive.

In reality, it really wasn’t.

Howard had been sending pictures to the group since six-thirty in the morning.

He, Leonard, Monica, who didn’t even go to UCLA, and several others were already at the tailgate.

From what he had shown them, they weren’t exactly the only crazy people there that early either.

The tailgating areas had started opening around seven.

By eight or nine in the morning, a good part of the parking lots was already beginning to fill with activity.

Tents with grills were being set up, along with folding tables, music, students tossing a football between cars, and blue and gold shirts everywhere.

Normally, that was already part of any Saturday at the Rose Bowl. Even more so since this season had begun with so much hype.

But that day was different.

UCLA had played two consecutive games on the road.

First Arizona.

Then Oregon.

Both had ended up becoming something much bigger than simple victories.

Against Arizona came the blowout, along with that more provocative version of Andrew.

A ranked opponent completely destroyed in front of the entire country and in front of their own fans.

Then what happened against Oregon was even more like something out of a movie, with the comeback, the number two team in the country, and the game still being shown on television.

Now UCLA was returning home after making it through those two games with victories.

They were coming back ranked among the top four teams in the country.

That was why, from early that morning, the atmosphere around the Rose Bowl felt different.

There were more people and much more noise than on any other Saturday, even though the opponent was much weaker than Oregon or Arizona.

Paige finally nodded and closed the book, "You’re right. It’s better if we leave now," she said.

She wasn’t enough of a fan to want to spend five full hours at the tailgate before kickoff.

But she did want to arrive with enough time to spend thirty or forty minutes there, take in some of the atmosphere, and then enter the stadium without rushing.

By then, the gates would already be open.

Paige stood up from the chair and began putting a few things into her bag.

Sam did the same, although in a much more orderly way.

She closed her highlighters, straightened the papers, left the books perfectly stacked, and by the time Paige was still looking for something she swore she had left on the desk, Sam was already ready.

Sam looked at her and smiled, "Look at us. Two players’ girlfriends and we’re getting to the tailgate when half the world is probably already there. What a shame," she said.

Paige finished putting away the last thing, turned around, and looked at her.

"Girlfriends? Why are you speaking in the plural?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Sam was Steve’s girlfriend.

Paige, on the other hand, wasn’t dating any football player. Although she knew perfectly well why Sam had said that.

"Well, you’re a potential girlfriend," Sam corrected herself.

"Of who?" Paige asked, crossing her arms.

Sam rolled her eyes, "Come on... Andrew. Who else?"

"I think it’s a little premature to say I’m going to be his girlfriend," Paige replied, shaking her head slightly.

"Stop pretending to be cautious. It doesn’t suit you," Sam said with a snort.

Paige narrowed her eyes.

Sam continued as if nothing had happened, "Last week, at the party, Andrew showed up and he was a lot more interested in talking to you than anything else."

She paused briefly as if remembering something and added, "That cheerleader captain... the redhead was practically throwing herself at him and he barely even noticed her."

Paige smiled almost involuntarily, "True, right?"

There was a small satisfaction in her voice that was impossible to hide.

Because yes. She liked remembering that. Not because of the cheerleader in particular. But because it made it fairly clear that this wasn’t going in only one direction.

Andrew sought her out too.

Sam completely ignored that satisfied expression and continued with her argument, "Then you disappeared together to play chess for I don’t know how many hours. During Halloween week, you ended up alone watching movies at his apartment. And now, after this game, you’re going to get together again to watch movies."

"So don’t tell me there’s no dating potential," Sam concluded.

"I’m not saying that," Paige replied.

She wasn’t an idiot. She could see perfectly well what was happening, and Sam didn’t even know about one of the parts Paige considered most important.

What she had told Andrew the previous Saturday.

About her childhood, her parents, being a child prodigy, and the rest.

All of those things Paige still hadn’t even told Sam.

To her, that meant considerably more than having shared an impulsive kiss at a party.

"I just don’t want to assume anything too soon," she added.

Sam nodded. That, she could understand. Then she smiled again, "Besides, you have that advantage."

Paige immediately narrowed her eyes, "What advantage?"

She could already tell an annoying comment was coming.

"You’re exactly the kind of girl Andrew likes," Sam replied, amused.

Paige sighed.

That.

The stupid thing Howard and Steve repeated like parrots every chance they got.

That Andrew had some kind of particular weakness for smart girls. To be fair, they had some pretty annoying evidence to back it up.

His two longest relationships had been with girls who were academically exceptional.

One had ended up studying at Stanford.

The other, at Harvard.

Model students with excellent grades and clear goals.

Paige still thought reducing all of that to Andrew likes smart girls was a pretty stupid simplification.

But she couldn’t exactly deny that the pattern existed either.

Thinking about it, there was something rather amusing about all of it. Now Andrew knew that she had been a child prodigy who had finished high school before turning twelve.

At the time, she hadn’t thought about it that way. But following Steve, Howard, and now apparently Sam’s logic, that could almost count as accidental flirting when it came to Andrew.

The thought brought a small smile to her face.

Maybe at some point it would be fun to tease Andrew about it.

"Oh, right," Paige said suddenly, "Since you’re so nosy about my love life, I need you to get Steve out of the apartment around four."

Sam understood immediately.

The game would end around three in the afternoon.

Andrew and Paige had agreed to meet at his apartment at four.

The problem was fairly obvious.

Andrew lived with Steve.

Paige seriously doubted Andrew was going to kick him out of his own apartment.

Knowing Steve, it would probably be enough for him to see the two of them arrive together to understand the situation on his own, grin annoyingly, and disappear after saying something stupid.

But if Sam made plans with him after the game, everything would feel much more natural.

"Yes, sir!" Sam replied with a smile, "There’s a museum I want to visit."

Not long after that, they finished getting ready, left the dorm, and headed down to the parking lot.

A few minutes later, they were already on their way to Pasadena.

It took them almost an hour to get there.

Traffic had been exactly as bad as Sam had imagined, and parking ended up being even worse.

For the last ten minutes, Paige listened to her mutter an increasingly creative collection of unfinished insults while trying to find a spot.

Sitting beside her, Paige could barely contain a smile.

They finally managed to find one. By the time they got out of the car, it was around ten-fifteen.

The place was completely packed with people.

The difference compared to other games was noticeable almost immediately.

It wasn’t just the crowd, which was always large. It was the mood.

Everyone seemed to be in a good mood.

There was a much stronger sense of celebration than in previous weeks. A mix of pride, happiness, and euphoria.

There wasn’t much tension about Washington State. Almost none.

It took Paige and Sam quite a while to find Howard, Leonard, and the others among so many people.

Eventually, a familiar voice managed to rise above the noise.

"There they are!" Howard exclaimed, spreading his arms, "Look at this. Blue sky, gold everywhere... the universe knows UCLA is playing today."

Paige arched an eyebrow. Not because of the line. Because of his face.

Howard had practically his entire face painted light blue.

"What happened to your face? It wasn’t like that when you sent the picture at six in the morning," Paige asked.

"A girl painted it!" Howard replied, "There are booths everywhere. They’ll paint your face, a player’s number, your nails, whatever you want. Look."

He proudly pointed to one side of his face. There, he also had a huge 19 painted on it.

Andrew’s number.

Not too far away, there were people wearing Steve’s 80.

Leonard shook his head, "He’s been like this since he woke up," he commented.

"You don’t understand this, Caltech boy," Howard replied, "You’re not from UCLA. Oregon was easily one of the five best moments of my life."

"Unfortunately, I know that top five," Leonard said with a grimace.

Howard, unlike Leonard, Monica, Haley, or Rachel, actually attended UCLA.

That changed things quite a bit. He wasn’t just friends with Andrew and Steve. He lived there.

He slept in the campus dorms.

He went to classes surrounded by students talking about the team. He saw UCLA shirts from the moment he woke up until he went to bed.

The victories weren’t just something he celebrated because one of his friends played on the team.

They belonged to his university too.

To the people he lived around every day, and then there was the side effect of being known as one of Andrew’s close friends.

At parties, in the dorms, or even just walking around campus.

Howard enjoyed that a lot, and he had no shame admitting it.

As for the famous ranking Leonard regretted knowing...

First place still belonged to the day Howard had lost his virginity.

Second, incredibly, was the night his then-girlfriend’s father had caught them in a very compromising situation.

Howard had ended up escaping through a window in his underwear, falling onto the lawn, and running to Andrew’s car, which had arrived just in time to rescue him.

The fact that Oregon was competing with memories like those said quite a lot about his level of excitement.

Sam looked around, "There are a ton of people," she murmured.

"Sold out, baby! Again!" shouted a guy neither Paige nor Sam recognized.

They both looked at him.

Howard immediately noticed their confused expressions and pointed at him with his thumb, "That’s Peter. A friend."

Monica appeared beside them, smiling, "And there are a lot fewer people here now than there were an hour ago. The gates are already open, so a lot of people have started going inside."

Paige looked around again. If this was "fewer people," she didn’t want to imagine what it had looked like at nine or eight.

Then she looked back at Howard, "Where are those girls who paint you?" she asked.

Howard looked at her as if she had just said the last thing he expected to hear, "What for?"

Paige rolled her eyes, "To cure cancer, Howard. What do you think? I want to paint my nails. And maybe a number nineteen on my cheek would look good," she replied.

She pointed at him with one finger and added, "But not as big as yours. That’s excessive."

Howard smiled slowly.

Too slowly.

Paige recognized that expression instantly, "Don’t say anything," she warned, "Just tell me where one of those booths is."

Howard laughed, raised his hands, and said, "Follow me."

It didn’t take them long to find one.

There were several girls working behind a table covered with small jars of paint, brushes, nail polish, and number stencils.

Paige chose something much more subtle than Howard. Her nails were painted light blue, with small gold details on some of them.

Then she asked for a 19 on one cheek, small and elegant. Visible enough to notice, but without taking up half her face.

When they finished, Paige looked at herself for a moment in the small mirror on the table and nodded, satisfied.

After that, the group continued wandering around the tailgate for quite a while.

Until, eventually, they decided to start heading toward the stadium.

They entered around eleven. By then, the Rose Bowl was already starting to look truly full.

The stands were filling almost completely, while the noise grew louder by the minute.

Inside one of the main broadcast booths was the FOX crew, the network responsible for televising the game.

On paper, Washington State wasn’t an opponent on Oregon’s level.

It wasn’t a matchup that automatically justified Game of the Week treatment from ABC or ESPN.

But UCLA had become too big of a story to treat this like a secondary game.

FOX understood that perfectly.

That was why they had sent one of their strongest crews.

Gus Johnson would handle play-by-play.

Charles Davis would be the analyst, and down on the field, Erin Andrews would work as the sideline reporter.

By 2012, Erin was already one of the most recognizable figures in sports television in the country.

She had built much of her fame covering college football for ESPN, becoming a familiar presence at some of the biggest games in the country.

That same year, she had made the move to FOX, and the fact that the network had sent her to the Rose Bowl made it fairly clear how much interest UCLA had generated.

Gus looked toward the field, with that energy that seemed to accompany him even before the game began.

[The stadium is already practically full! We still have about ten minutes before the Bruins come out of the tunnel, and it looks like there isn’t room for one more person. How does it look from down there, Erin?]

Only a couple of seconds passed before Erin’s voice came in from the field, [It’s incredible, Gus. It’s extremely loud and the game hasn’t even started yet. This feels more like a celebration than a pregame atmosphere. After what this team did in Arizona and, especially, last week in Oregon, it feels like these people came mainly to welcome them home.]

[Listen to this energy for yourselves!] Gus said before falling silent.

The cameras began sweeping across the stands.

Entire sections of the Rose Bowl appeared on screen. Tens of thousands of people standing.

Then one of UCLA’s most recognizable sounds began to rise above the rest of the noise.

The 8-Clap.

Thousands of fans followed the rhythm with eight consecutive claps before beginning to spell out the university’s name, each letter punctuated by more claps.

"U!"

"C!"

"L!"

"A!"

And when they finished, a large part of the stadium roared at the same time.

"U-C-L-A! UCLA! Fight, fight, fight!"

Even inside the booth, it could be heard clearly.

Gus turned slightly toward his partner, [What do you think, Charles?] he asked.

[An incredible atmosphere. I’ve been to the Rose Bowl several times and, obviously, the 8-Clap is always part of UCLA. But it’s been quite a while since I’ve heard it with this kind of energy,] Charles replied.

Gus nodded, [Now the stadium seems to be full every Saturday they play here.]

That was the reason.

Over the last few years, UCLA had not regularly filled the Rose Bowl.

The stadium was enormous.

Too big to easily hide empty sections when the program was going through mediocre seasons.

That had changed radically this season.

Charles looked at some of the statistics prepared in front of him, [Exactly. Average attendance here last year was around fifty-four thousand fans. This season, counting today, UCLA has already played five games at the Rose Bowl. Do you know what the average is?]

[How much?] Gus asked with interest.

[88,882 fans per game. Three complete sellouts: the opener, Oregon State, and today. And the other two, even though they didn’t officially reach sold-out status, were around eighty-five thousand.]

Gus let out a whistle. He didn’t need to add much.

The jump was enormous.

Going from roughly 54,000 fans per game to almost 89,000 meant an increase of more than sixty percent in just one season.

Unprecedented for a college football team.

For the university, it represented enormous financial and institutional success. It meant millions of extra dollars in ticket sales, concessions, parking, and merchandise.

On top of that, it would become a powerful marketing and recruiting tool.

[I think the reason has a first and last name,] Gus commented with a smile, as a new graphic appeared on screen.

ANDREW PRITCHETT-TUCKER — SEASON STATS

Completions / Attempts: 212/287 — 73.87%

Passing yards: 3,055

Rushing yards: 463

Total yards: 3,518

Total touchdowns: 42 (38 passing, 4 rushing)

Interceptions: 3

Charles nodded slowly as he looked at the numbers, [Without a doubt. UCLA is having a fantastic season overall. The new coaching staff has done an extraordinary job, the defense has improved, and this team is playing with a completely different level of confidence.]

He paused briefly and added, [But we also can’t ignore the obvious. A large part of this entire phenomenon starts with Pritchett. He arrived with a level of expectations that would have been high for any freshman and, somehow, he didn’t just meet them. He exceeded them. At this point, we’re no longer talking only about the best freshman in the country. We’re talking about the Heisman favorite.]

Not long after that came Washington State’s introduction.

Finally, it was UCLA’s turn.

For Andrew, it ended up being probably the loudest reception he had received at the Rose Bowl up to that point.

And that was saying quite a lot.

He had always received excellent welcomes. But today was different.

The band was playing with deafening force.

The stands seemed to vibrate.

Blue and gold covered practically everything Andrew could see from the field.

All of that for a game against a struggling Washington State team.

’Well... let’s play,’ Andrew thought, putting it out of his mind.

The game began.

Washington State received first.

The Cougars managed to move the chains on their opening possession, although UCLA’s defense eventually stopped them before they could reach the end zone.

Field goal.

UCLA BRUINS 0 — Washington State Cougars 3

The early lead belonged to the visitors.

After the kickoff, Andrew and the rest of the offense finally began to come onto the field, and a large part of the stadium rose to its feet again.

There was another reason for all the excitement.

Everyone knew exactly what was at stake.

Andrew entered the game with 38 passing touchdowns.

Only one away from tying the Pac-12 single-season record.

The record belonged to Barkley, who had thrown 39 touchdowns, set just the previous year, in 2011.

The stadium screens had even shown it during pregame.

1 TD PASS TO TIE PAC-12 RECORD

The first drive began.

Curiously, Andrew seemed to be one of the few people inside the Rose Bowl who wasn’t thinking too much about it.

He didn’t look anxious, or especially excited about chasing the record.

He simply started playing. First a short pass. Then a run. Another completion over the middle.

A conversion on third down.

Three minutes later, Washington State still hadn’t found any real way to get UCLA off the field.

Andrew kept moving the offense forward. Until they reached the red zone.

Andrew took the snap, dropped back, and held the ball for barely a moment.

He saw Amari cut inside and threw. A quick pass of about ten yards.

Amari caught it in stride, absorbed contact from a defender, and crossed the goal line.

Touchdown.

The Rose Bowl exploded.

[TOUCHDOWN, BRUINS!] Gus Johnson shouted, rising from his seat. [AND THIS IS PAC-12 HISTORY! PRITCHETT-TUCKER TIES BARKLEY!]

39 TD PASSES

The number immediately appeared on the giant screens. For a few seconds, the noise seemed to double. Offensive players surrounded Andrew.

Amari raised the ball as he went over to hug Andrew.

From the sideline, Jim Mora was clapping hard. The other coaches and assistants celebrated with even more enthusiasm.

It wasn’t simply another personal record.

It was a conference-wide record.

One UCLA had never held before.

Now it belonged to one of their players. With several games still ahead to keep extending it.

Not long after, UCLA converted the extra point.

UCLA BRUINS 7 — Washington State Cougars 3

The first quarter came to an end with the Bruins’ offense operating like an absolute steamroller.

Andrew still hadn’t managed to break the record. Although it wasn’t because UCLA had stopped scoring.

On one of the following possessions, he ended up reaching the end zone himself on a run of about fifteen yards.

Rushing touchdown.

Important for the scoreboard.

Completely useless for the record the entire stadium was waiting for.

Later came another touchdown. But that one didn’t count for Andrew either.

The play had been a lateral pass to Jonathan, technically backward, so statistically it was recorded as a run.

Jonathan barely had to advance about five yards to cross the goal line.

It hadn’t been some explosive forty-yard play where he did all the work.

Andrew had built practically the entire drive by moving the chains with passes, reads, and short gains.

But the final touchdown still didn’t show up in his statistics.

By the end of the first quarter, the scoreboard clearly reflected the difference between the two teams.

UCLA BRUINS 22 — Washington State Cougars 6

What everyone had been waiting for finally came in the second quarter.

Andrew took the snap. The protection broke down almost immediately.

A defender managed to get through from the edge, and Andrew had to leave the pocket, moving laterally while keeping his eyes downfield.

He bought one second. Then another, and then he saw him. Shaq. His deep-route receiver. Creating separation downfield.

Andrew planted his foot while still on the move and let it fly.

[Pritchett-Tucker escaping the pressure... looking deep... THROWS!] Gus exclaimed.

The ball traveled more than forty yards through the air.

Shaq caught it in stride.

A defender tried to close the angle.

Shaq slipped past him. Ran a few more yards and entered the end zone.

[TOUCHDOWN, UCLA! SHAQ EVANS! AND THERE IT IS! FORTY TOUCHDOWN PASSES! A NEW PAC-12 RECORD!] Gus shouted excitedly, rising to his feet.

The Rose Bowl had even more energy than Gus himself.

A new graphic immediately appeared on the giant screens.

PAC-12 SINGLE-SEASON RECORD

40 TD PASSES

ANDREW PRITCHETT-TUCKER

Then the chant began.

It wasn’t his first name. It was his last name. Easier to shout in unison and distinctive enough that nobody could confuse it with some other Andrew.

"PRIT-CHETT! PRIT-CHETT! PRIT-CHETT!"

Tens of thousands of people followed the rhythm.

From the sideline, a large number of players, assistants, and coaches even joined in on the chant.

"PRITCHETT! PRITCHETT!"

Jay, who had been celebrating the touchdown and the record like everyone else, went momentarily still when he heard the chant spreading throughout the stadium.

He knew perfectly well it wasn’t for him. But it was still his last name.

The name he had grown up with and the one his children carried.

Gloria looked at him from the side with a smile, "Emotional?" she asked.

"Of course not... just proud," Jay grumbled.

Jay tried to keep a firm expression. He didn’t quite manage it.

His eyes were slightly watery and, barely a second later, he brought one hand to his face as if he were simply shielding himself from the sun.

Gloria noticed. For once, she didn’t tease him.

Cam was the complete opposite of Jay. He was shouting, clapping, and grabbing Mitchell’s arm as he listened to the chant.

Although, if he wanted to get technical, it was a little offensive that the entire stadium had decided to completely ignore the Tucker part.

But at that moment, he didn’t care.

Mitch was trying to maintain a little more composure, but he was emotional too.

His son had just broken a historic conference record and there were ninety thousand people shouting the last name Andrew carried because of him.

Claire was completely proud and much louder than usual.

She had grown up as Claire Pritchett. Hearing that name turned into a massive stadium chant felt incredibly strange, but exciting at the same time.

Phil, meanwhile, had joined the chant, "Pritchett! Pritchett!"

He was shouting his father-in-law’s last name with an intensity that probably would have concerned Jay under any other circumstances.

Haley was smiling from ear to ear while recording everything. The stadium, the scoreboard, and she also turned her phone toward her grandfather and Mitch, because it would be fun to have their reactions for later.

Manny watched everything with a much more solemn expression, "The Pritchett name just became part of the city’s sports folklore," he commented.

Judging by the way he kept staring toward the field, he was probably already thinking about some sports poem nobody had asked for.

Paige wasn’t too far away.

She had no emotional connection to the last name.

But seeing that enormous 40 TD PASSES appear on the screens and knowing Andrew had just broken a Pac-12-wide record had made her smile and clap hard.

Then she started looking around, and that was when something changed.

Everyone shouting the same last name.

Paige stood still for a few seconds.

Because moments like that had a way of reminding her just how strange it really was to know Andrew personally.

In a few hours, they would be alone again, sitting in his apartment, watching and criticizing Twilight.

But right now, there was an entire stadium chanting for him. To all of them, Andrew was down there. Someone distant. Almost turned into a figure.

Paige was different. She knew him. That gave her an almost intimate feeling.

On the field, Mora was openly smiling while several members of the staff slapped Andrew on the helmet as he returned to the sideline.

Charles waited for the noise to die down slightly, [Another record in the bag for Pritchett this season. No quarterback in the history of this conference had ever reached forty touchdown passes in a single season,] he commented.

He took a brief second and began listing names, [Not Luck, not Leinart, not Barkley, not Palmer, not Aikman... None of them. Only Pritchett-Tucker.]

The game continued.

But for Andrew, it was practically over just after the third quarter began.

UCLA already had the game completely under control, and Mora saw no reason to keep risking him.

When Andrew came off the field and it became clear that the backup would take the rest of the possessions, the Rose Bowl erupted again.

This time, not because of a touchdown.

Because of him.

Andrew raised both hands as he walked toward the sideline, acknowledging the applause from the stands before taking off his helmet and sitting down with the rest of the offense.

Gus looked at the statistics that had just appeared on screen, [Look at these numbers! It seems like he never disappoints.]

The broadcast showed what Andrew had produced in barely two quarters and a few minutes of the third.

ANDREW PRITCHETT-TUCKER

Passing:

16/22 — 267 yards — 2 TD — 0 INT

Rushing:

7 carries — 61 yards — 1 TD

Total:

328 yards — 3 TD

Charles nodded and commented, [And I’ll tell you something, Gus. What I liked most today wasn’t even the numbers.]

[Oh, what’s more important than a conference record?] Gus asked.

[His mentality. The entire stadium knew he was chasing that record. He knew it too. But I never saw him rush. He never tried to force a pass just to get touchdown number forty. He didn’t throw a single interception. He had only one turnover in the entire game and, on top of that, there were two drives near the end zone where Jonathan Franklin ended up scoring,] Charles replied.

The broadcast showed a replay of one of those plays.

[On both occasions, the correct decision was to give the ball to the running back, and that’s exactly what he did,] Charles concluded.

He hadn’t tried to manufacture a play.

He hadn’t changed the read in a desperate attempt to throw another touchdown pass and extend the record.

He had simply run the offense.

UCLA slowed the pace considerably during the final two quarters.

By then, however, the game had already been decided.

With Andrew out, the offense stopped attacking with the same aggressiveness, the coaching staff began rotating players, and several starters spent much of the fourth quarter watching from the sideline.

Washington State managed to add a few more points, but never truly threatened the result.

When the clock finally reached zero, the Rose Bowl once again filled with applause.

Another victory.

The eighth straight.

Another game in which Andrew had ended up adding a new record to a season that seemed determined to refuse to become normal.

FINAL: UCLA BRUINS 45 — Washington State Cougars 13

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