"Hey, Andrew. You finally made it. Heavy traffic?" Derrick asked, extending his hand.
Andrew returned the handshake with a firm grip. "Yeah, quite a bit," he replied, glancing sideways at Madison, who was happily licking an ice pop without a care in the world.
The truth was, that was exactly why they'd been late, Madison had insisted on stopping for ice cream at a nearby stand, and between parking and walking, they'd lost nearly ten minutes.
"Were you able to find parking all right? What did you think of the stadium from outside?" Derrick asked.
Andrew nodded with a faint smile. "Yes, no problem. And it's impressive," he said, tilting his head slightly toward the field visible beyond the tent.
And it was. The Rose Bowl was imposing even before you stepped inside.
Built in 1922 and designated a National Historic Landmark, the stadium had hosted college championships, Super Bowls, and even Olympic events. Its capacity exceeded 88,000 spectators, though on big days like the traditional Rose Bowl Game, it could surpass 90,000.
Although UCLA used it as its home stadium, the venue didn't belong to the university, it was owned by the city of Pasadena, which made it even more iconic: a shared gem, larger than any single institution.
For Andrew, it was his first time visiting the Rose Bowl.
He had never had the chance to come before, not even to watch the classic Rose Bowl Game, a matchup between two colleges that didn't always include UCLA.
He loved football, yes, watching games, analyzing plays, studying formations, but when it came to college football, he'd never been a fan of one specific school enough to attend a live game. His stadium experiences leaned more toward the NFL, especially the 49ers, his favorite team in this life, whom he had seen play many times at Levi's Stadium in Santa Clara.
Derrick smiled with satisfaction. "Yeah, seeing it for the first time has that effect," he said. Then he noticed Andrew hadn't come with his family.
"You didn't come with your family?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Andrew shook his head. "They couldn't make it," he replied naturally. Then he motioned slightly to his side. "This is Madison, a friend from school."
'Friend,' Madison repeated in her head. She kept her smile, though her eyes narrowed just a bit, hiding her mild annoyance at the label Andrew had chosen.
"Nice to meet you, Madison," said Derrick, offering his hand.
"The pleasure's mine," she replied politely, though not very enthusiastically.
"Let me introduce you to my family," Derrick said, turning toward the two women beside him. "My wife, Angela, and my daughter, Jade."
Angela stepped forward with a warm smile. "Delighted to meet you, Andrew. I've heard so much about you, practically every dinner at home since your big game against Bosco revolves around your matches," she said playfully.
Andrew chuckled and shook her hand respectfully. "Then I guess I need to keep playing well, so Derrick doesn't run out of conversation topics," he said lightly.
Angela smiled and nodded approvingly.
Then Andrew turned toward Derrick's daughter, Jade.
He'd heard Derrick mention that she was goth, and indeed, she was. The complete opposite of Angela's kind and warm presence.
Jade's makeup made her even paler than she already was, with black hair, an utterly serious gaze, and black-painted lips and nails. She wore a black leather jacket and matching tight jeans. Her expression hovered somewhere between bored, disdainful, and defiant.
She didn't smile or say a word, just gave a slight nod in greeting, eyes locked on Andrew's.
'Is she…?' thought Andrew, returning the gesture, holding her gaze a few seconds longer than he intended.
Jade didn't look away.
Madison, standing beside him, noticed the prolonged eye contact and couldn't help but purse her lips slightly before giving Andrew a discreet nudge with her elbow. He quickly regained his composure and turned his attention back to Derrick.
Meanwhile, Jade remained silent, watching out of the corner of her eye. She didn't look impressed, but she did look intrigued.
Andrew had found in Derrick the perfect conversation partner.
They talked about the upcoming game, UCLA's current situation, Arizona's great form, the recruits in attendance, and the overall landscape of the Pac-10, with Oregon steamrolling every opponent.
It was a smooth, technical, passionate conversation, the kind Andrew loved. Finally, someone spoke his language. Very different from the ride over, when he'd tried to explain to Madison how the conference system worked and she'd barely listened, nodding without really understanding much.
In the middle of their discussion, Randall, Derrick's boss, approached and was introduced to Andrew.
He was a man with a perpetually stern expression and weary eyes. Still, when he shook Andrew's hand, he gave him a genuine smile. "Enjoy the game, son," he said before walking away.
Derrick looked at his boss as if he barely recognized him. Randall never smiled. But given that Andrew was the most sought-after recruit in the country, it wasn't too surprising.
Moments later, the staff began gathering the guests, the signal that the transfer to the stands was about to begin. Only ten minutes remained before kickoff.
Andrew said goodbye to Derrick and his family.
Angela wished him luck in his upcoming games with a warm, motherly tone. Jade, on the other hand, only gave a faint nod, holding his gaze a second longer than necessary before looking away.
'That women is really kind,' thought Andrew, thinking Angela seemed like the perfect mom.
Guided by a member of the staff, Andrew and Madison joined the group of recruits, family members, and guests heading toward the stadium.
The scouts couldn't accompany them during the game.
Under NCAA rules, their interaction was limited to brief greetings and pre-game chats. Afterward, they had to watch from other sections, in boxes or upper rows, alongside the coaching staff, taking notes on the recruits' reactions and behavior during the match.
Andrew walked with the group through the tunnel that opened into the stands, and as he stepped into the open air, he saw it all.
The Rose Bowl engulfed him with its magnitude, a sea of blue and gold, the stands vibrating, the murmur swelling before kickoff.
'About 60–65% full?' Andrew estimated, sweeping his gaze across the stadium.
Not bad, that's more than 50,000 people who came to watch the game.
Still, for a regular-season matchup, that was higher than usual. This game had special appeal: UCLA was facing a nationally ranked opponent with a strong record.
Arizona was competitive, with an explosive offense, enough to draw extra attention. Many fans wanted to see if UCLA could pull off an upset at home.
Even so, large empty sections were visible in the upper levels of the bowl.
Despite that, 50,000 spectators was still insane. Andrew came from Mater Dei, whose stadium held around 9–10 thousand people, and ever since he'd been there, it sold out 100% for every game, even preseason and league matches.
But in away games, like against JSerra or Santa Margarita, the crowds rarely exceeded 4,000–5,000, no matter how elite the matchup.
Now he stood before something five times larger than Mater Dei's stadium. The noise, the energy, the marching band's drums, the cameras, the lights, it was another level entirely.
The leap from high school to college felt like jumping five floors in a single bound.
'How would it feel if this stadium were at 100%?' he wondered.
Lost in thought, Andrew followed the group as they were led to their seats, until a voice snapped him out of it.
"Do you like goth girls?" asked Madison, absentmindedly licking her ice pop.
Andrew blinked, confused. "What?"
"I asked if you like goth girls. I saw you looking a little too much at the scout's daughter," Madison said, her tone casual, but her eyes weren't.
Andrew raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he thought he'd misheard. Was she seriously jealous?
They were barely getting to know each other, and Madison herself had been the one to say it, no commitments, nothing serious, just spending time together and seeing how things went.
A week of getting closer, and she was already showing jealousy?
One week in, and Andrew's internal alarm bell went off.
'Perfect,' he thought dryly. First red flag in record time.
All it took was one extra glance at a girl they barely knew, and she was already upset. What was next?
"Yes, I do like goth girls," Andrew replied calmly, watching her reaction.
Madison froze mid-lick, the ice pop stopping halfway to her mouth. She hadn't expected that answer.
They had just reached their seats, a good section, not luxurious, but much better than general admission. Andrew sat first and, with a relaxed smile, offered his hand for her to sit beside him.
"What's wrong? Am I not allowed to like goth girls?" he asked lightly. "Are you jealous?"
"You're doing it on purpose," Madison huffed, pretending to be annoyed, though she didn't pull her hand away from his.
"Maybe," said Andrew, holding her gaze. "But you'd look good dressed like one. It'd be… stimulating."
Before she could respond, Andrew casually took the ice pop from her hand and took a small bite. Madison stared at him, unsure whether to take it as flirting or teasing.
"If you like it, I'll do it," Madison said at last, brushing her hair back casually as if it were no big deal.
"I'll look forward to it," Andrew replied, not sure whether to be amused or concerned that she agreed so easily, or that she hadn't denied being jealous.
'I'll need to buy some dark clothes…' Madison thought, since that style wasn't hers at all.
"By the way, give me back my ice pop, you said you didn't want one," Madison teased, smirking. "You said you don't eat sugar, Mr. Discipline."
"Yeah, but one cheat treat a week won't kill me. Besides, I'm the one who paid for it," Andrew said with a crooked smile. "So, we can share."
Madison laughed and playfully smacked his arm, just as the roar of the stadium swelled, the teams were taking the field.
The game began. From his seat, Andrew immediately sensed the atmosphere: thick air, heavy with tension. UCLA fans were cheering, yes, but the energy felt restrained, almost forced. There was support, but also a lingering frustration.
And it was understandable. UCLA was coming off two brutal losses: 35–7 against Cal and 60–13 against Oregon.
Their offense ranked among the worst in the Pac-10, barely edging out Arizona State, the absolute bottom of the conference. The passing game was ineffective, offensive drives short, and play-calling painfully predictable.
Head coach Rick Neuheisel and the offensive coordinator were under intense media fire because of it.
To make matters worse, that afternoon the starting quarterback was out injured, meaning the job fell to the backup, Richard Brehaut.
Andrew watched him during warm-ups, throwing quick, slightly tense passes. He couldn't tell if that was good or bad. The injured starter had been having a mediocre season anyway, so in a way, trying out the backup didn't seem all that crazy.
'It can't get worse… right?' Andrew thought, though not entirely convinced.
The first quarter began with Arizona taking control. Quarterback Nick Foles led long drives and scored the first touchdown of the game. After the successful extra point: 0–7 for the visitors.
UCLA's response was discouraging. The offense didn't cross midfield and ended up punting. On the next possession, Arizona struck again. Another touchdown. 0–14.
Barely twelve minutes in, and already a fourteen-point gap.
'This is bad… could it be another blowout?' Andrew wondered, frowning slightly.
Throughout the first quarter, he observed more like an analyst than a fan. His eyes tracked the quarterback's movements, the coverage, the defensive reads.
Beside him, Madison didn't look particularly impressed or entertained.
Andrew knew UCLA's offense was a mess, the worst in the Pac-10, just barely ahead of Arizona State, but he expected more from the defense. With several promising prospects, they should at least have been able to contain Foles and company. Yet there was no coordination, no intensity.
And then, in the final minute of the quarter, the backup surprised everyone.
A deep pass, 66 yards, caught by the receiver, who ran the last eight into the end zone. Touchdown. 7–14.
The Rose Bowl roared to life.
The noise was deafening, thousands standing, waving flags, shouting as if they'd just won a championship.
'Good throw,' thought Andrew, focused, not carried away by the excitement. He'd seen what happened: Arizona's defense got overconfident, eased up, and gave the quarterback an extra second in the pocket. None of the defenders expected UCLA to connect on such a long pass.
In the second quarter, UCLA's defense finally began to wake up. They forced three incompletions and held Arizona to just a field goal (7–17).
Then, with a more balanced offense, the home team answered with a sustained 80-yard drive, nearly tying the game before halftime: 14–17.
"Yeah! That's it, keep it up!" shouted Derrick, jumping from his seat among the other scouts, clapping hard.
He couldn't help but glance every so often toward the section where Andrew was sitting. He didn't even want to imagine the top recruit in the country witnessing another humiliating loss, it would be a terrible blow to the program's image.
He kept checking on him every few seconds, almost unconsciously. Andrew maintained a calm, analytical expression, completely focused on the game, so different from the other recruits, who were laughing, chatting, or filming clips on their phones.
His companion, Madison, on the other hand, was in her own world: taking selfies with the stadium behind her, one with Andrew, practically forcing him to smile, then checking filters, chatting about things entirely unrelated to football.
Andrew still responded politely, managing to watch the game intently while listening to her, even drawing a few smiles with short comments, but his eyes never left the field for more than an instant.
Only when posing for the photo did he turn away from the game, just for a few seconds, before returning his full attention.
In the third quarter, the game remained tense, but Arizona found openings, managing two field goals and a touchdown.
UCLA couldn't put any more points on the board: 14–26.
It looked like the game was slipping away, though it was clearly a better performance than in previous weeks.
In the final quarter, UCLA didn't give up. Brehaut led his best drive of the season, finishing with a touchdown pass. They closed the gap again: 21–26.
Andrew noticed that almost no quarterback ever went for a two-point conversion, that was the unanimous decision across most top programs, always go for the extra kick, play it safe.
With possession in hand, Arizona stretched the drive as much as possible and ended it with another field goal: 21–29.
Even so, about four minutes remained. To tie, UCLA needed a touchdown and a two-point conversion. But a pass from Brehaut was intercepted at the opposing 40-yard line, sealing the game.
Final score: UCLA 21 – Arizona 29.
'Well… at least better than the last few games', thought Andrew, standing up and clapping along with the rest of the crowd as both teams left the field.
Still, it was another loss, their third straight. 1–4 in the Pac-10. A disaster.
How the hell did they even beat Texas back in early September? It really was a miracle.
When the final whistle blew, the atmosphere in the stadium grew heavier. Andrew said goodbye to Derrick, receiving a firm handshake from the scout and a few formal words of thanks from the UCLA staff.
Had it been a win, they might have invited him onto the field or into the stadium lobby to meet players or the head coach, but after another defeat, no one was in the mood to smile.
Madison, on the other hand, remained cheerful, excited by the experience more than the result. For her, the game had just been the first part of the date.
Outside the stadium, they walked back to the Camaro while Madison listed several restaurants they could go to, and of course, Andrew would be paying.
The evening took on a more relaxed tone for Andrew, less analytical and more casual. They ate at a well-reviewed restaurant near Pasadena and later drove up to a scenic overlook with a view of the city.
They spent much of the afternoon there, talking, but mostly kissing, making it clear that their connection seemed more physical than emotional.
As the sun began to set, Andrew drove her home, started the engine again, and began the drive back to his own house.
...
Author's Note:
Fun fact, all of this actually happened. The Pac-10 standings, UCLA's rough season, and yes, even that long touchdown throw from the backup were real.
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