Pinch Me, I’m a Cougar Fan

Imagine waiting 67 years for something.

I suspect some Washington State University graduates are still wondering if it’s all just a dream. No, Cougars don’t even dream this good. For the first time since 1931, the Crimson and Gray is going to the Rose Bowl.

Sixty-seven years.

OK, so I’ve only been waiting 18 years. But when you become a Cougar, you inherit the legacy--a legacy of football frustration, patience and finally, resignation. If anyone knows the motto “winning isn’t everything,” a Cougar does.

By the early ‘80s, when I arrived at the campus in the rolling wheat fields of eastern Washington, the Cougars had long since accepted their status as the state’s crimson-headed stepchild. The rival University of Washington Huskies had the prestigious address--Seattle--and the powerhouse football team.

WSU has its famous alums: cartoonist Gary Larson and journalist Edward R. Murrow. But, the school can’t escape the Moo U reputation.

And in Pullman, a tiny town on the Idaho border, students learned to live with a feeling of isolation. Not surprisingly, Cougar football became a big part of our lives. My friends and I trudged up the hilly campus and carefully stashed zip-locked bags of vodka inside oversized bras to ensure some high spirits before the usual loss on the field. The team gave its all, but in the end, we would, as the local paper liked to put it, “Coug it.”

1931. The United States didn’t even have a national anthem.

To “Coug it” has always meant to blow the big lead or botch the clutch play. And, reluctantly, I’d have to agree that WSU deserved the label. Oh, we’ve had some good seasons. We’ve had some spectacular quarterbacks. But not even future Super Bowlers Drew Bledsoe and Mark Rypien could grow roses in Pullman.

Sixty-seven years. Even Bob Dole probably can’t remember that game.

So early this season, when the Cougars had won a couple of games and sportswriters took notice, I paid no attention. Cougars don’t get their hopes up. They watch. They wait. We’ve been down that road before. Our record looks good; our quarterback is solid. But by the end of the season, the road to the Rose Bowl turns into a cul-de-sac with a nasty Husky or Bruin waiting in the yard. We “Coug it” and look to next year.

1931. No television. No Heisman trophies. No Elvis.

I haven’t been much of a booster in the 12 years since graduating. It’s not that I’m a fair-weather fan. It’s more than that. When I moved to Southern California in the mid-’80s, Southern California was moving to the Northwest, trying to escape the smog and gridlock. The smog didn’t scare me. By that time, I had already inhaled four years of Mt. St. Helen’s ash. As for gridlock, the concept sounded intriguing for someone used to passing combines on two-lane country roads.

But, unfortunately, attitudes didn’t change with the latitudes. Washington State University remained the Rodney Dangerfield of college football. And my white-and-red WSU sweatshirt, the one with the mascot molded into the school logo, remained in the closet.

1931. Alka-Seltzer arrives on the market--a fortuitous development for future WSU football coaches.

In Los Angeles, especially, where a cross-city rivalry permeates every aspect of life, it’s rough being an outsider. It’s a Trojan and Bruin world. Whether it’s a friendly bet between co-workers or chatter among aerobics partners, it’s tough to talk the talk when your team hasn’t walked the walk since Herbert Hoover was president.

1931. Chicago mobster Al Capone is sentenced to 11 years for tax evasion. The Cougars start serving 67.

When you’ve gone without something for a long time, you don’t really miss it anymore. You don’t really notice that it’s not there. During my years in Pullman, I never thought about a trip to Pasadena. It was that Christmas present you knew you were never going to get, so you just turned the page of the catalog. No expectations. No heartache.

But something happened this year and WSU will never be the same. In the record books, it goes down as a 10-1 season and a trip to the Rose Bowl. But beyond the statistics, for WSU fans, who for nearly seven decades have told themselves that winning isn’t everything, there’s a new anthem: “Good things come to those who wait.”

I’ll be there on Jan. 1. No hidden vodka though. This calls for champagne.