This post was contributed by a community member. The views expressed here are the author's own.

Health & Fitness

Country Gal/City Woman: 'Up Close and Personal With Pete Carroll and Friends'

As the USC Football Season comes upon us, please remember to contact this Blogger only before or after The Game!

This confounds me at times, in three parts: 1) Why do I start typing away on a Blog when I don't exactly know what the "ending" will be?   2) Usually Bloggers have a point to make, an opinion to render, or a need to change the world.  3)  I'm hard-pressed to find anything remotely resembling any of those three in my "stuff." 

Mine are more like "fluff," a few hundred words of recounting and reminiscing, maybe a confession if the need arises.  Confession?

Those who know me well are, I know, leaning back in the comfort of their own computer chairs muttering to themselves, "Oh, goodie, she's finally coming clean after all these years!"  

Find out what's happening in Arcadiawith free, real-time updates from Patch.

To that last point, as much as it pains me to think it, let alone share with the arcadia.patch.com readers, I feel there is something I must "fess up to!"  I might have the makings of a "Stalker" with a capital "S".  It is a long story, but I will explain so I can begin tomorrow with a clean slate.

Flashback with me to November, 2007, when I awoke one particular morning resolved to call my youngest child, Dana, to tell her to go on to the Campus of USC without me after peering out the bedroom window and seeing "drizzle" in sunny Southern California which sometimes happens (not often) if the weather gods smile down upon us and Fritz, the KNBC Channel Four Weather Man, reads his teleprompter correctly.  (For those of you in Iowa who are reading this, Fritz Coleman is also a stand-up comedian, an all-around nice guy, hair the color of a silver fox and really, really tall!  You want a better peek, he's on my Facebook page.) 

Anyway...where I live, this kind of weather brings out the Looney Tooners who did not have the advantage of learning to drive on Iowa's rutted country roads and have forgotten all they were taught in Kindergarten about oil and water not mixing, and, then, there is the matter of "hydroplaning" that makes people sit up and take notice when that happens.  On top of that, my hair frizzles when it is dampish outside, and a "bad hair day" is punishment for all my past sins as far as I am concerned.  Who needs all that, right?

But, Dana is a convincing persuader. Casey and Cole, the grandkids, and their paternal grandmother, Laurie, were all up for this journey into proper Los Angeles so digging deep down into my hardy Duke's mixture heritage to get the wherewithall to "brave the storm," I acquiesced.  (That means "capitulated.") 

Find out what's happening in Arcadiawith free, real-time updates from Patch.

The Pack of Four arrived promptly at 9 a.m. and into Dana's white "tour bus," I hoisted myself onto the reserved-for-grandma seat and off we went, sightseeing the urbane world on both sides of Freeway No. 10. Now Dana is an excellent freeway driver so I left my immediate worries behind in South Arcadia, silently contemplating with appropriately-spaced sighing, just how many USC buildings we would scan and enter, where are the bathrooms located, what would I order for lunch and how long would we have to stay before heading home. (On most occasions I am a worry-free passenger, please know, and grant me another 40 years, I will come to ignore those drivers who tailgate on the freeway, and maybe even respond in kind to those who lift their free hand in that cute and friendly one-finger salute of goodwill! That is the way it was explained to me.)

Soon enough we were headed into the parking lot on Campus where Dana found space on top of the roof of the parking structure.  We were a jaunt away from the middle of the Campus where the Book Store, eating establishments, bathrooms, and learning centers were situated, and under a slight drizzle, we took off to begin a day that turned out to be like no other. 

Dodging students on bicycles, garbage containers, campus cops, faculty members, swains entwined as if vines, we arrived breathlessly at our point of destination and purchases were made. I bought a USC coffee cup which has its place of honor on my coffee table when the football team plays, at home or away.  (It has yet to hold a beverage of any kind, "enshrined" as it is.)

While munching away at lunch time the daily fare of what is offered to these future leaders of tomorrow but now of the Classes of 2007-08-09-10, I remember thinking I would have greatly enjoyed the "college experience" after high school, but that was not an option for me.  Yes, I would have relished learning more about creative writing at the University of Iowa School of Journalism; but, as life will have it, it was what I absorbed during the two years enrolled in the Journalism Class at Atlantic High School, and working on 1943's "The Needle" that I rely, of necessity, upon my own personal experiences, feminine wiles and intuition, plus an occasional check with the Dictionary to write Blogs of assorted, but not mind-boggling, subjects. 

Oh, goodie, the hands on my watch were pointing downward, the sun was leaning into the west, and we were drifting somewhat lazily towards the parking lot, waaaaay over there.  All seemed to me to be encouraging signs that our visit to the USC Campus was coming to a pleasant and most welcome end.  But, first, one final rest for the needed fresh spurt of energy to get us to journey's end.  We found the perfect bench to gaze upon the so-serious-in-suits professors and the chattering collegians scurry back and forth, books in hand...this I could handle.

Ooops!  Someone must have checked their "To Do List."  We were forgetting to visit Heritage Hall, just "down the way" from where we were resting with Dana taking, always, just one more picture.  Knowing the Campus well, having matriculated there, Laurie, in the spirit of a true Trojan, gathered up the remnants of the Pack and began the march to Heritage Hall.  I hesitated only briefly.

Looking up, I saw Tommy Trojan looking down, somewhat sternly, and seeming to say to me..."Where is that USC Spirit?"  Had he dared to transmit the worst of all descriptive words: "Wimp"?  That was a "gauntlet" if I ever esp'd one.  Whither they goest, I would goest, too.

Gathering up my shoes and all the inner strength I could muster, I joined that Pack of Four and off we went...straight into a half hour or more of time, the memory of which will surely warm the cockles of my heart for the rest of my years. (For your information...Tommy Trojan is a mere statue, not a mortal, but his ability to stir the spirit is legendary!)

Walking up the steps of Heritage Hall is akin to entering the sanctuary of a church. One can be almost in awe of the beauty of the building, the pictures of the football teams of yesteryears and other sports figures that have plaques displayed in their honor. Heisman Trophies are encased in glass cabinets and are truly memorable to see. The Hall reeks of glory and history!

Another confession: when I reached 80 years of age, I surrendered being any kind of "leader of a pack" so I scouted out a chair upon which to settle my five-foot frame once in Heritage Hall.  Casey, Cole, Dana and Laurie have all become acquainted with the Hall over the years (the boys' father, Brad, is also a graduate and football fanatic) and, as a Pack, being naturally curious and not about to miss anything that may have been recently added, slipped upstairs in search of more good stuff to eyeball.

Now in charge of all purchases, as Chief Guardian I could, without admitting to any suggestion that I was "pooped" even by USC's standards, choose a nicely upholstered chair upon which to sit and watch the parade of people pass by.  It was busier than usual as the Hall had, just that lunch time, been the location where the football squad had partaken of a team meal, part of a Pep Rally just for them led by Coach Pete Carroll backed up by a full roster of coaches.

Some of the football players were still milling about as was a slightly older (than the players) fellow who strolled by on his way to the Men's Bathroom.  I know that because I watched him. Anyway, as he passed by, I smiled...he smiled...and just to make small talk, I asked him if he was a coach.  He smiled...I smiled...and he said, "Yes." Now for someone who has interviewed people for "The Needle" and even smaller newspapers, this could have been a headline-making occasion, but what did I do....nervously started counting the packages that surrounded me.  Yet cringing as I write this almost four years later. Turns out the coach was Lane Kiffin. and you will soon be reading about him once the 2011 football season begins, hopefully in  "victorious" headlines!

Lane continued on his way and time, again, began to drag.  Evidently the Pack of Four had completely lost all track of time and, seemingly, had forgotten all about me... it was at that exact moment that Laurie exited the stairs, came bustling toward me, fairly bubbling.  THEY HAD TALKED TO MATT LEINERT, AND DID I WANT TO MEET HIM?   (Now, let me think about that one!)

Grabbing all the packages, up the stairs we scrambled, hastily smoothing out any wrinkles in our clothes before we "casually" strolled into the outer office belonging to Pete Carroll, I, hoping that my frizzled hair had calmed down and wishing the same for my erratically-beating heart.

The receptionist said that Pete was not available (he was in a meeting with staffers talking football jargon) but that Matt Leinert was still in the next room with some of the football team members.  Since he had been so sweet and gentlemanly about Dana taking some pictures of her boys with Matt, she dared to ask him if he would consent to having his picture taken with their Grandma.

Those pictures taken show Matt in a sweaty shirt with Casey and Cole's Grams literally tucked under his left wing, her frizzled hair barely reaching his armpit, but I have to ask you, how many of you can say you were smeared with Matt Leinert's sweat? Well, not many of the older generation...probably his Grandmothers and me, a select group.

One of the neat things about going into Pete Carroll's  office is that we were able to spot two pictures of the football team of which Pasadena's Tom Mallory, Laurie's father, was a member. He was a part of the 1929-1930's Thundering Herd football team, quite a hero one year when they won the Rose Bowl game. "Poppa Tom" has since passed away, but what an all-around athlete he was while attending USC. Later on "Poppa Tom" taught at Pasadena Junior College and was Jackie Robinson's baseball coach.  His bronze bust is situated between those of Jackie and Mack Robinson on the now PCC campus.

As we were about to stroll out of the receptionist's office, I looked up and spotted Pete coming out of his office.  I really do not know where I get this urge, this compulsion sometimes, but I called out, at the risk of embarrassing the Pack of Four, to The Man,  "Oh, Pete, would you do me a favor?"  (Don't even think it! So pedestrian, right?) He smiled and said, "Depends on what the favor is?" (Now that is flirting and I know flirting!) 

Mustering up again, in a voice even I did not recognize, I asked if he would be so kind as to have his picture taken with me. With no hesitation whatsoever, he came over, shook hands and made some small talk like we were good friends meeting once again.

You know the drill by now...I gushed inane words some more, and looked faint evidently, as Casey said to me while he was snapping away with the camera, "Grams, you are shaking!"  I truly was.  I think it was then that I won Pete Carroll's heart because he asked if I would like to have my picture taken with the football team! I can't be sure but I think I said, "Only if you know how to give CPR!"  (And why was the floor not opening up, hastening my leaving-taking before I unwittingly contributed anything more to that piece of brilliant conversation?)  The extra hug helped immensely.

Even though thoroughly flustered by then, I kept some semblance of sense about me, enough to remember what to record in a Blog some day, and I didn't faint.   That is the way the football (life) bounces some days, and with a bit of wonderment in each of us due to that extra bounce, we did a group leave-taking toward the door.. "Float" would be a more apt description.

As we reached the door, we heard Pete call out to us an invitation to watch the team practice that followed immediately. Now, how many die-hard USC fans in their right minds would turn down this kind of an invitation? We were among the few. We, graciously, replied that we did have to be on our way but would like to accept another time, of course.  Once back in our vehicle, we all commiserated that that was a most stupid thing to do...turn down an invitation of that magnitude, from Pete Carroll, himself.  Four years later, commiserating even more because Pete Carroll has "left the building."   I wonder if Lane reads arcadia.patch.com?

There is a moral to this story, of course, as you well know there would be. The moral is this: No matter what kind of a day it looks like it is going to be, rain or shine, take a deep breath and hoist yourself up mentally, physically and emotionally 'cause you could have a day like the one we had when we met Pete Carroll, Matt Leinert, Lane Kiffin and a part of the USC football team, year 2007!

Entirely unexpected, the events that transpired live on as vividly as they were experienced on that fateful day a couple of years ago.  In the years that followed, we did not return to accept Pete's invitation but I do confess that I "Stalked" his television interviews and specials, his Blogs, his Twittering, a couple of Monday Quarterback Lunches held on Campus after each game, and, upon occasion, I was the one with the high-powered binoculars in the top section of the Coliseum farthest from the scoreboards, the one with "her heart on her sleeve!"

GO TROJANS!                  

We’ve removed the ability to reply as we work to make improvements. Learn more here

The views expressed in this post are the author's own. Want to post on Patch?

More from Arcadia